It’s Wednesday afternoon, and Josh hasn’t called.

Or emailed.

Or texted.

I know, this isn’t high school, but I was expecting him to at least touch base or drop in for lunch. Not radio silence. Especially after such a great date. I’ve kept a close eye on the remodeling work going on across the street and haven’t seen him or his car. I even asked the construction guys if they’d seen him, and they hadn’t.

By two-thirty I’ve pretty much given up on him coming by today and with the lunch rush long gone I’m getting ready for the new neighborhood fundraiser tonight. It’s called “Taste of the Island” and was Madison’s idea to raise money for the local animal shelters. Since she’s a famous network TV reporter she had no trouble getting sponsorships and local establishments to participate. No chains, all mom-and-pops. About two dozen restaurants will be bringing their signature dishes. People buy tickets for forty bucks and they can eat as much as they want. Great way to sample all the local eateries and support a good cause at the same time. Since all the restaurants donate the food, one hundred percent of the proceeds goes to the shelters.

The little bell above the door rings and I see yet another new customer, this one a big guy with a pale blue denim shirt and jeans. Obviously not part of the construction crew, since he’s clean. Maybe forty with salt-and-pepper hair, he carries a clipboard as he approaches the counter.

“Hi, may I help you?”

“I’m here to see A.J.”

“You’re lookin’ at her.”

He extends his hand. “Mike Devlin. Josh sent me. I’m going to be his contractor working on the apartment across the street.”

“Ah, he told you the food is good, huh?”

“Yeah, he did rave about the food. But he sent me over to see if I could possibly get into your apartment and measure your bathroom. He was going to work up some plans for you. I had a few minutes so I figured I’d take a shot you weren’t too busy this time of day.”

Oh, how nice. “No, perfect timing. C’mon, I’ll take you upstairs.” I yell to the back room to tell Connie I’ll be gone for a few minutes, then lead the guy out the door and around to my apartment. The old stairs creak as we head up. “You do a lot of work for Josh?”

“Yeah, probably for the last five years or so. The guy’s got great vision. Very creative, especially with small spaces and old buildings.”

I open the door. “I must warn you, I have a kamikaze cat that likes to leap out at people.”

He laughs a bit. “Yeah, I had one like that.” He takes a look around. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” I lead him down the hall to the bathroom. “Well, here’s my problem. I need a shoehorn to get in here. And I’m not exactly what you’d call an amazon.”

He nods as he pulls out a tape measure. “Yeah, none of these old buildings had large bathrooms. Most of them had just one. We’re a lot more pampered now. Multiple bathrooms, double sinks, steam showers, you name it.” He crouches down and starts measuring the space.

“Josh said something about possibly knocking out this linen closet and maybe putting in a whirlpool tub if it would fit. The one I have now is not exactly comfortable.”

Mike writes the numbers on his clipboard, then takes a look at the closet and measures it. “I think we’ve got enough room to work with and Josh should be able to get that tub in here for you. Three day job, max. One for the demo, one for install, and another for the cosmetic stuff... painting, wallpaper, whatever you want. Let me get these numbers to him so he can come up with something and then we can talk it over.”

“God, I’d love to have some actual space.”

“You’ve got it, there’s just a wall dividing it.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to me. “You can check out my work on my website. Of course if you have a contractor you already like, you’re certainly not obligated to use me.”

“Actually, my cousin Angelo is a contractor but he’s on some major job in Manhattan for a few months and I’d hate to bother him with something so small. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Very nice of you to do this, Mike. Is Josh across the street today?”

“No, he’s been in Boston all week on another project. Probably be back tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Well, please thank him for sending you. How about some coffee and a pastry for your trouble?”

“Considering he loved the food, I’ll take you up on that. And really, A.J., this wasn’t a problem.” He nods, puts the clipboard under his arm and smiles at me. “Josh wasn’t kidding.”

“Yeah, it really is cramped in the bathroom.”

“Not about that, about you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, hell, I’ve said too much already. Let’s just say he thinks you’re a unique woman. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Okay, here we go again trying to decipher the terminology. So in what way does he think I’m unique? Is it me? My personality? What he thinks is under the dress in the librarian scenario? My independence and the fact I run a business?

Inquiring minds wanna know. Again.

***

IT’S A BEAUTIFUL CLEAR night, the crisp fall air filled with dozens of wonderful aromas from the various restaurants spread out around the perimeter of the park while tables fill the middle. Madison, Rory and Tish are busy selling tickets at a booth which also features several pets available for adoption. There appears to be a long line, so we’re gonna be busy. Sure hope I brought enough food.

My sister Connie and I peel back the aluminum foil from the trays of stuffed shells, lasagna, and chicken parmigiana we’ve set up on a long table covered with a traditional Italian red-and-white checkered tablecloth. We’re both wearing aprons to match. While Connie’s covers a short skirt, I’m in my new uniform of khakis and an oxford shirt.

Sure wish Josh wasn’t out of town.

But hey, this is about raising money for animals that need forever homes. That’s the most important thing.

A line starts forming at the end of our table and we start dishing out samples. I see a lot of regular customers, who I basically forced to come under penalty of getting a lousy sandwich in the future. But no one’s complaining and people are definitely getting their forty bucks’ worth.

Connie takes a look at the crowd. “I’m not sure we brought enough. Damn, there are a lot of people here.”

“Don’t worry, one of us can always run back to the deli and get a load of pastries. I didn’t see a lot of restaurants that brought desserts.”

An hour later, the fundraiser is such a huge success I have to send Connie back to the deli since we’re almost wiped out.

I’m down to one stuffed shell, a few pieces of chicken parm and two servings of lasagna. Thankfully most of the crowd is seated at the tables, so there’s a lull in the action. But they’ll be ready for dessert soon and we’ll have plenty of pastries.

A man I don’t recognize walks by, takes a look at the sign hanging off our table and heads in our direction.

Whoa, cute guy alert.

He looks up at me and his eyes go wide as he stops for a moment and studies my face. It’s as if he recognizes me but I’m sure I’d remember a guy like this.

Seriously, I’m stopping traffic in this outfit? Not that I’m complaining.

He starts walking again and shoots me a smile as he arrives at the table. Maybe five-nine, slender but fit, tousled black hair and stunning olive green eyes. Starched white shirt, gray wool slacks and suspenders, so he obviously came straight from work at some white collar job. I’m guessing he’s a stock broker.

I stand up straight and return the smile while making eye contact. “Hi, welcome to Scaramucci’s. What would you like to try?”

He points at the stuffed shell as he furrows his brow.

“That? It’s a stuffed pasta shell. Ricotta cheese, egg, parsley, garlic, covered with sauce. It’s the last one, so you’d better grab it.” He smiles and nods as I grab a serving spoon and put it on a plate, then ladle a bit of sauce on top. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

He pulls a pad and pen from his pocket and writes something down, then turns the pad so I can read it.

I’m not being rude, I have a terrible case of laryngitis. Doctor told me not to speak a single word for two days.

“Ah, well, stuffed shells are good for what ails you. The garlic will clear up your problem.” I hand him the plate and a napkin.  “Careful you don’t get any sauce on that nice shirt.” He takes a bite and I can tell he’s savoring it. He gives me a thumbs up. “Glad you like it. How about a little chicken parm or lasagna?”

He points at the chicken, so I put the last pieces on his plate. He tastes it and again, from his facial expression I can tell he likes it. Another thumbs up.

“Well, I hope you’ll come by our deli when you can talk again.” I hand him one of our business cards. “We’re open every day but Sunday.”

He looks at it, puts it in his pocket, then writes something on the pad.

Definitely. Your food is wonderful. I’ll drop by for lunch.

“Look forward to it. Come back later, we’ll have desserts!”

He smiles and gives me a wave just as my sister returns. Connie locks on him like a heat-seeking missile as he walks away. “Damn. Who was that?”

“No clue.”

“A seriously cute guy comes by and you don’t get a name?”

“He had laryngitis and couldn’t talk. But he wrote down a note and said he would come by the deli.”

“Fine, I could get by just looking at him. I call dibs.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re already taken, A.J. I call dibs. He’s mine when he comes by.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute little sister.”

She moves close to me and looks down, accentuating her height advantage. “Who you callin’ little?”

“You may be taller than me but I’m still your older sister. And as for calling dibs, one date does not make me taken.”

“Oh, so now you’re gonna hog all the hot guys for yourself? You already got an architect and now you want that white collar cutie? You told me Josh was the best date you ever had. Ergo, you are taken.”

“Hold on a minute, I thought you liked the construction worker. So after one date, ergo, you would also be taken.”

“Hey, you were the one who told me at my age I could have fun. Ergo, dating more than one guy constitutes fun.”

“Whatever. The point is moot unless he actually comes by the deli. But damn, that guy had great eyes. Did you catch that?”

“Nah, I was watching him walk away. And since when are you an eye person?”

“Since guys started looking at mine.”

***

BY NINE OUR CLEANUP is complete, so I head over to the ticket table where my friends are watching the people who run the local animal shelters count up the money. All are looking very happy. “So, how’d we do?”

Madison flashes a big smile. “As you probably guessed, better than we expected. And all the animals were adopted, even that three-legged cat. A couple with a little girl in a wheelchair thought it would inspire her since it has no problem getting around.”

“Terrific.”

Rory turns to me. “How’d you do?”

“Got wiped out. Had to send Connie back to the deli for pastries, and those completely disappeared as well. Next year we need to bring a lot more food.”

Tish nods. “Yeah, it was a huge crowd. I’m sure you found some new customers.”

“Speaking of which... there was a guy who came by my table who I never saw before. About five-nine, slender, black tousled hair, and these incredible olive green eyes. Cute as hell. He had a white shirt and suspenders. Youse guys know who he is?”

“Oh yeah, I remember the guy with the suspenders,” says Madison. “Don’t see those much anymore. I sold him a ticket. But I have no idea who he is. Why?”

“I was just wondering. Did he by any chance pay by check?”

“Cash. Sorry.”

Rory studies my face. “Ah, you’ve got a touch of smitten in your eyes. Did you two make a connection?”

I shrug. “Kind of an unusual one.”

“He ask for your number?” asks Tish.

“Nope.”

“You ask for his?”

“No.”

Rory furrows her brow. “What, the new wardrobe suddenly make you shy or something?”

“No, he took out a pad and wrote down that he had a bad case of laryngitis and the doctor told him not to talk.”

“Sounds like your perfect man. Great to look at and never speaks. You could just put him in a corner and stare at him.”

“Very funny. No, seriously... since he couldn’t talk he sort of communicated using his eyes.”

Tish turns to the others. “Her sheer class was so off the charts she left him speechless.”

“Cute.”

Madison points at her own face. “Ah, so his eyes were up here. Shoe’s on the other foot. But aren’t you happy with the new guy on your dance card? I thought the architect just took you on the best first date ever.”

Tish shakes her head. “Yes, but they’ve only had one date and we haven’t met him yet to give our approval. He has several hoops through which he must jump.”

My face tightens. “Since when do I need your approval on a boyfriend?”

“Hey, are you happy with the results of the changes we’ve made?”

“Yeah.”

“Then shut up and take your medicine. If things get serious with any guy, we have veto power. End of story.”

Rory starts to laugh. “So, back to the man you sorta met tonight... suppose Speechless Guy shows up at your deli when his voice comes back and asks you out?”

“I think I need to look at things the same way as this fundraiser. Sample the goods.”