CHAPTER SEVEN
Mia stood proudly at the back of the library. Her students were showing their parents and friends the art they’d created in their workshops. It was easy to see their sense of accomplishment, the joy that came with knowing they’d worked hard and created stunning art.
“Congratulations. The exhibition is a huge success.”
Mia turned and smiled at Stan. He’d arrived half an hour ago with Annabelle. After a quick hello, Annabelle had led him straight to her paintings and Mia hadn’t seen them since.
She looked behind him and frowned. “Where’s Annabelle?”
“With her friends. They’re taking photos of each other’s work to add to the school’s Facebook page.”
“They were so funny today. Each piece of art was moved at least a dozen times before they were happy.” Her gaze wandered over Stan’s jacket and tie. After their meeting with Annie, he must have gone home and changed, too. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look handsome in your suit.”
A soft blush stained his cheeks. “Annabelle said it was a black-tie event.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “None of the other fathers are wearing a dinner suit. I’m overdressed.”
“Don’t worry about what everyone else is wearing. Granddad says you can tell the caliber of a man by how he wears his clothes. And you wear your clothes beautifully.”
Stan’s blush deepened and Mia smiled.
“I’m not the only person who wears their clothes beautifully,” he said. “You look lovely.”
When Mia’s smile widened, Stan groaned. “That didn’t come out how it was meant to. What I should have said is that it’s not me who wears my clothes beautifully…it’s you. Not that you don’t always look beautiful…but tonight is—”
Mia decided to put him out of his misery. “Thank you. It’s nice to go to an event where I can dust off my high heels and wear a dress.”
“Annabelle said the same thing. Not about the high heels, but about wearing a dress. She’s grown so much that we had to go shopping for something for her to wear.”
“She’s almost as tall as I am—not that that’s hard. I always envied my tall friends.”
“Being tall has its downfalls.”
“Not as many as being short. I can never see over the top of anyone’s head, new clothes always need to be shortened, and if I eat a muffin, I swear you can see it on my hips the next day.” Mia took two glasses off a tray and handed one to Stan. “Juice?”
She didn’t know what she’d said, but Stan had a wide grin on his face.
“Why are you still single?” he asked.
His question made her frown. “I prefer muffins to men,” she muttered.
“What if someone you were interested in had a smidgen of Greek ancestry in his family tree? Would that make him better than a muffin?”
“It depends on the muffin.” She laughed at the warmth in Stan’s eyes. “If we’re talking triple chocolate muffins with gooey caramel centers, then he’d need to have at least one parent who’s Greek. Otherwise, the muffin would win.”
“You have high standards.”
“In muffins or men?”
Stan’s smile disappeared. “Maybe both.” He looked around the library, breaking the tension that had grown between them.
Mia told herself that was a good thing. Stan had a young daughter, a career that left next to no time for anything else. But it would be so easy to fall in love with him, to discover whether dating him was better than eating chocolate muffins.
“Hi, Mia.” Annabelle rushed up to her. “This is so awesome. All of my friends’ paintings have sold. Doesn’t dad look great? He hasn’t worn that suit in ages and it’s perfect.”
“He looks very handsome. Your dress is beautiful, too.”
Annabelle twirled in a circle. “We spent two hours looking for the perfect dress. Dad never got bored once.”
Mia made the mistake of glancing at Stan. His smile made her heart clench tight. He loved his daughter more than life itself. If it had taken all day to find Annabelle a dress, he wouldn’t have minded.
“You’re very lucky,” she said to Annabelle. “My granddad hates shopping.”
“Unless it is for art supplies,” a gruff voice said from behind her.
“Granddad? What are you doing here?” Nick was wearing one of his favorite Italian suits. He looked like the sophisticated gallery owner he’d always been.
“I was invited to the exhibition by my good friend Kathy. Her grandson, William, was one of your students.”
The quiet twelve-year-old with serious brown eyes had been a wonderful student. He had bucket loads of raw talent and the confidence to create canvases that were always eye-catching.
“Have you seen the paintings he chose to exhibit?” she asked.
Nick nodded. “He has the same spark that you had at his age.” He held out his hand to Stan. “Excuse my manners. It is good to see you again, Stan. Annabelle, you look lovely.”
“Thanks, Mr. Costas.” Annabelle pointed to the other side of the room. “Would you like to see my paintings?”
“Nothing would please me more.”
Annabelle linked her arm around Nick’s and chatted nonstop as they crossed the room.
“I almost feel sorry for your grandfather,” Stan whispered. “Annabelle’s excited. She’ll tell him everything there is to know about her paintings and what she’s been doing.”
“Don’t worry about granddad. He’ll enjoy every minute. When I was younger, we used to spend hours talking about what we were doing.”
“Did you enjoy living with your grandfather?”
Mia looked at her glass of juice. “I did, but it took a while to feel that way. After my parents died, our lives were never the same.”
“It must have been hard on both of you. Did you spend a lot of time with him while your parents were alive?”
“We saw each other every week. The best times were when we were in his gallery. He’d tell me about the exhibitions and introduce me to the artists. The worst times were when mom and granddad argued. He wanted her to exhibit her paintings, but she wouldn’t do it.”
Stan moved closer, shielding her from the rest of the room. “Is that why you’ve been reluctant to make painting your full-time job?”
A lump formed in her throat. “When my parents died, my self-confidence was shattered. Mom and I used to talk about her work all the time. One of the things I learned was that it takes more than talent to make a great artist. I don’t know if I’ve got what it takes, but I have to try.”
“What are you most worried about?”
“That my career as an artist could fizzle into nothing.”
“Or explode into something you never imagined was possible.” Stan’s hand brushed against hers. “I don’t know much about art, but your paintings are better than anything I’ve ever seen. If anyone can be a successful artist, it’s you.”
For a moment, the sincerity in Stan’s face made her believe that anything was possible. “It won’t be easy.”
“The best things never are.”
She looked at the excitement on her students’ faces. Stan was right. The best things in life might not be easy, but they were worth every minute of the journey it took to get there.
***
On Wednesday morning, Stan leaned around the kitchen doorframe looking for any sign of life. “Annabelle Lewis,” he yelled. “Breakfast is ready. If you’re not down here in two minutes I’m coming to get you.”
Annabelle appeared at the top of the stairs. “You don’t need to shout,” she groaned. “I was on my way down.”
“Next time, tell me. Help yourself to the pancakes. You’ve got twenty minutes before we leave.” He glanced at her torn jeans and purple T-shirt. Trying to figure out why anyone wore ripped clothes was beyond him. “Did Mrs. Dodds tell you that I’m working late tonight?”
“She said you had a meeting to go to.” Annabelle lifted three pancakes out of the oven. “Can I go to Stacey’s house after school? Her mom won’t mind.”
“But I will. Mrs. Dodds will look after you until I get home.”
“Your meetings are long. I could do my homework with Stacey.”
Stan rinsed his coffee cup and added it to the dishwasher. “Nice try, but it’s not going to work.”
Annabelle sat on a kitchen stool. “You don’t need to be so overprotective. I can look after myself.”
“You’re eleven years old. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”
“You don’t think I’ll be safe at Stacey’s house?”
“You’ll be safer with Mrs. Dodds. Did you hand in your history assignment yesterday?”
“Yes.”
He waited for Annabelle to remind him that they didn’t hand in paper copies of their homework anymore, but she kept quiet. “How do you think you did?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Mornings weren’t Annabelle’s favorite time of the day, but she wasn’t usually this quiet. There was one surefire way to encourage her to talk. All he had to do was mention anything about puppies.
“Did Mr. Pointon bring his puppy to school yesterday?”
“No. It was too hot.” Annabelle lowered her head and ate her pancakes. A conveyor belt couldn’t have done a better job of getting the pancakes to her mouth.
He opened the folder that Mrs. Dodds had left on the counter. They’d decided to keep all the school notices in one place. That way, if he forgot something, the details would be in the folder.
He pulled out his cell phone and made sure he had Annabelle’s swimming competition and parent-teacher conference scheduled on his calendar. The next notice was for a fundraiser and the one after that talked about the school choir.
“Are you going to the retirement villages this Christmas to sing carols?”
Annabelle stopped chewing. “No.”
“I thought you liked singing with the choir?”
“I used to like singing in the choir.”
He didn’t know what was going on with Annabelle, but she wasn’t in a good mood. With his attention still focused on his daughter, he lifted the last notice out of the folder. “Is something worrying you?”
She lifted another fork of pancakes into her mouth. “No.”
He glanced at his phone, then at the notice in his hands. His gaze landed on the subject line. He might have found the reason why Annabelle was so unhappy. “Did your teacher mention the mother and daughter day they’re having at school?”
Annabelle stopped chewing. She looked at the piece of paper, then at him. “I thought I’d…”
“What?” He had a feeling he knew exactly what she’d been about to say. It wasn’t the first time one of her school notices had gone missing and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
“It doesn’t matter.” She dropped her last pancake in the trash and stacked her plate in the dishwasher. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I could go to the mother and daughter day with you.”
Annabelle stopped in the doorway. She turned toward him, a look of panic on her face. “You’re my dad.”
“There must be other kids whose moms can’t come. I could stop by Angel Wings Café and bring a dozen of Tess’ strawberry ripple muffins with me.”
“You can’t do that.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Everyone will think I’m a freak if my dad comes to school.”
All he wanted to do was wrap Annabelle in a big hug, but he held back. “I’ve been to other mother and daughter days before. What’s different about this one?”
Annabelle wiped her eyes. “I’m in middle school now. All the other kids will be bringing their moms or aunties. I’ve got no one.”
“What about Mrs. Dodds? She’d enjoy spending the day with you.”
“It’s not the same. You pay Mrs. Dodds to look after me.”
His heart sank. He didn’t know what to say.
Annabelle’s bottom lip quivered. “It’s not fair. Why did mom have to die?”
Stan couldn’t hold back any longer. He walked across the room and wrapped Annabelle in a hug. “I know you’re hurting. It’s hard not having your mom with us.”
“I miss her so much.”
“I know. I miss her too.”
Annabelle’s arms tightened around his waist. “A doctor from your hospital spoke at school yesterday. She looks after people with cancer.”
He held onto Annabelle with one arm while he searched for a tissue. “What did she say?”
“That some people die from cancer.” Annabelle gulped back a sob. “Everyone looked at me. I started crying.”
Anger replaced the grief inside him. The school should have called him if she’d been upset. “What happened when you started crying?”
“Mr. Pointon asked if I was okay. He said I could visit the library if I wanted to.”
“Did you?”
Annabelle shook her head. “I wanted to listen to the doctor. We don’t talk about mom’s cancer very much.”
Stan took a deep breath. “I didn’t know you wanted to talk about it.”
“Sometimes I wonder how mom got sick. I don’t want you to die, too.”
Tears stung Stan’s eyes. “Oh, Annabelle. Your mom’s cancer wasn’t something that can be passed on to other people. The cells in her body changed and caused the tumors to grow. By the time we knew something was different, the medicine the doctors gave her wasn’t able to help.”
“Was she in pain?”
Images of Sandra lying in their bed flashed across his mind. The first round of chemotherapy hadn’t been too bad, but by the time they started their fourth session, Sandra’s body was weak. She’d been so cold that she hadn’t stopped shivering, then the hot flushes had set in. She couldn’t cool down, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t hold Annabelle without worrying that she’d drop her.
“Dad?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about your mom.”
“Was she in pain?”
“It was uncomfortable, but the doctors gave her medicine to help her feel better.” The pancakes he’d eaten felt like lead in his stomach. After the chemotherapy had come the radiation treatment. It had been their last resort, but it had come at an enormous cost. Being told about the possible side effects was completely different from living through them. The weeping blisters and unbearable pain had taken what little comfort Sandra could still find in being alive.
Three weeks after her treatment ended, she died. He was heartbroken and exhausted. His soul mate, the woman who made his world complete, had taken her last breath in his arms.
He didn’t remember much about the next few weeks. His body had gone into autopilot, driven by Annabelle’s constant crying. He couldn’t sleep and he only ate when someone forced him to stop. But stopping, even for ten minutes, gave him time to think. And thinking had almost destroyed him.
Annabelle’s hand wrapped around his. “It’s okay, dad. I feel like that too.”
He blinked and fresh tears streamed down his face. Nine years after saying goodbye, he was still grieving for the amazing woman they’d both lost.
He gave Annabelle another hug. “Let me know what you’d like to do for mother and daughter day.”
“I will. Can we stop at Tess’ café on the way to school?”
And just like that, Annabelle was almost back to her usual self. “Why do you want to stop there?”
“It’s Wednesday,” she grinned. “And that means…”
“Chewy brownies day. Okay, kiddo. As soon as you’ve brushed your teeth, we’ll leave.”
Annabelle stretched onto her tippy toes. “Thanks, dad. I love you.”
“I love you, too. But be quick. If Tess’ husband beats us to the café there won’t be any brownies left.”
Annabelle ran out of the kitchen and thumped up the staircase. While she was gone, he tidied the kitchen, watered the herbs that Mrs. Dodds insisted on growing, and tried not to think.
Because sometimes keeping busy was the only thing that kept him sane.
***
Mia knocked on Stan’s office door. “Is it okay to come in? Gina’s not here.”
He looked up from behind his desk. “Of course it is. Annie has delivered her samples. Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
A pile of boxes covered the coffee table in Stan’s office. “How much food did she bring?”
“Enough to feed an army.” Stan finished what he was doing, then sat beside Mia. “Where do you want to start?”
She picked up the feedback form that Annie had left beside the boxes. There was space to make comments about each sample and a box to tick if they passed the taste test. “Why don’t we start at the top and work our way through the list?”
“Sounds logical. I hope you’re hungry?”
“I am. I thought Annie might send more than two samples of each item so I didn’t eat much for breakfast.”
Stan handed her a plate and fork. “Wise move. Which item is first?”
“Chocolate profiteroles.” Mia scanned the table. “Here they are.” She handed the box to Stan. “They’re filled with a sweet Bavarian and raspberry cream filling.”
“You’ve either got X-ray vision or you’ve eaten them before.”
Mia grinned and waved the form in the air. “Neither. A description of each item is on the list.”
Stan opened the box and smiled. “This makes up for the morning I’ve had. Look at these.”
He turned the box around and Mia sighed. The profiteroles were perfect. They were about the size of her thumb, covered in rich, dark, chocolate and filled with thick, pink cream.
She carefully lifted one of the pastries out of the box and bit into it. “Oh, wow.”
“Is it good?”
“Better than good. Try one.”
Stan bit into a profiterole and sighed. “These are delicious. The filling melts in your mouth.”
Mia picked up a pen. “Out of five, how many points would you give them?”
“Five.”
“And are we happy to include them as a dessert option for the gala?”
“You bet.”
Mia ticked the box beside their score. “One down, eleven to go. Next on the list are the mini wild berry cheesecakes.”
Stan found the box. “These are heavier than the last desserts.”
“I don’t know if I should read you their description.”
“Does it sound better than the profiteroles?”
“About twenty pounds better. Are you ready?”
He held his hand over the flap of the box. “I won’t open it until you’ve finished.”
Mia’s taste buds sprung to life as her eyes skimmed over the ingredients. “You’ve got more will power than I have. Here goes…baked vanilla cheesecake garnished with a mouthwatering blend of blueberries and strawberries, and drizzled with raspberry puree.”
Stan opened the box and groaned. “Do you know how many calories I’m about to eat?”
She glanced at the list. “It’s not too bad, but you wouldn’t want to compare it with a chicken salad sandwich.”
He bit into one of the cheesecakes and closed his eyes. “I don’t care how many calories I’m swallowing. This is a keeper.”
It wasn’t fair that Stan was so attractive. He might look like your typical tall, dark, and handsome man, but he also had the heart of a teddy bear and a sweet tooth that surprised her.
Mia pulled her mind away from Stan and back to the cheesecakes. “How does Annie make something so small look so perfect?”
“Lots of skill and more patience than I’ve got.” He slid a cheesecake onto her plate. “Try one. They’re really good.”
“I might have to go for a run this afternoon.”
“It’s worth it.”
She bit into the cheesecake and nearly swooned. The tang of the berries was perfect with the creamy sweetness of the vanilla center. Picking up her pen, she gave the dessert five points and a big tick of approval.
By the time they’d finished the dessert options, Mia’s blood-sugar levels were soaring. “I don’t know how you feel, but those desserts were some of the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Stan closed the lid on the last box and stacked it to one side. “I agree. You’re welcome to take the extra pieces home. Nick might like some as well.”
“Granddad and I will be okay. Annabelle and Mrs. Dodds would enjoy them.”
“I’ll take two of the cheesecakes home for them. If I take anything else, Annabelle won’t sleep.”
Mia pulled one of the savory boxes closer. “Annabelle is a great person. You must be very proud of her.”
The smile on Stan’s face disappeared. “I am, but it’s not easy raising her on my own. She was in tears this morning.”
“Why?’
Stan sighed. “There’s a mother and daughter day at her school next week. They did the same thing last year and I went with her. This year, something’s changed. She doesn’t want me to go with her.”
“She misses her mom,” Mia murmured.
Stan looked down at his hands. “It’s more than that. I want to make whatever’s wrong better, but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Have you asked Annabelle how she feels?”
“It’s not that easy. Most of the time she’s happy. But every now and then her world comes crashing down.”
Mia placed her hand on Stan’s arm. “When you’re eleven years old, there are a lot of crazy hormones running around your body. You want to fit in with everyone else but don’t know how. On top of all that, you’re trying to figure out what’s important to you. Apart from talking to her, I don’t know if there’s anything more you can do.”
“Annabelle asked about her mom’s cancer treatment this morning.”
Stan looked so sad that Mia wanted to wrap him in her arms. “How did that go?”
“I told her about the chemotherapy, but not the radiation. Sandra was on massive doses of morphine for the last three weeks of her life. The side effects from the radiation therapy were horrendous.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “When she died, I felt guilty because I was so relieved. I didn’t want her to suffer through more weeks of pain.”
“You loved her. Here, take these.” Mia handed Stan a bunch of tissues. “You’re doing a great job of raising Annabelle. She’s funny and quirky and very kind. In our art classes, she was always the first person to offer to help someone. She knows you love her and that’s the most important thing she needs.”
Stan blew his nose. “She reminds me of Sandra. I met my wife at a friend’s party when I was in college. After our first dance we were inseparable.”
Mia’s heart sank. “It sounds like love at first sight.”
“Almost. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
Mia didn’t want to tell Stan about her disastrous relationships with men. “I don’t have a lot of time to date, but when I do, it never works out.”
“Why not?”
She glanced at Stan. He seemed genuinely interested in her non-existent love life. “Painting takes up most of my spare time. I can’t go away for weekends or have regular dinner dates with friends. That’s hard for someone who wants a normal relationship.”
“It must be hard for you, too.”
Stan’s words cut deep. It had been more difficult than she imagined. As each of her friends fell in love, she felt even more isolated. “I have great friends and granddad is always there for me. He tried to play matchmaker last year, but even he couldn’t find someone I liked.”
“Were all the candidates Greek by any chance?”
Mia smiled. “How did you know?”
He leaned sideways and nudged her with his shoulder. “Lucky guess.”
“I joined the same dating app that your friend, Daniel, reviewed. Granddad nearly had a heart attack when I told him.”
Stan’s eyebrows rose. “How did that go?”
“I had some great dates, but nothing special.”
“Maybe you should only date men you paint? They’d have to stay in your studio for at least a couple of days. It would be an easy way of getting to know them.”
Mia tapped her finger against her chin, pretending to think about what he’d said. “Apart from my dad, the only male I’ve painted is Sitting Bull. Considering he died more than a hundred years ago, I’d say your theory needs some work.”
“You could choose someone who’s still breathing.”
“Are you offering your services?” Mia slapped her hand across her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It just kind of…”
“Slipped out?”
Mia nodded in case she said something worse.
“Don’t worry. I won’t take your retraction personally. I’m not the type of person that most women dream about, anyway.”
“What are you talking about? You’re good looking, you don’t seem to have any annoying habits, and you shave. What more could anyone want?”
“I’ve got an eleven-year-old daughter, a job that keeps me away from home more than it should, and I’m allergic to dogs. Why is shaving important?”
Heat flooded Mia’s face. “We should taste-test the savory options.” She read the name of the next item on the feedback form. “Somewhere in front of us is a box of gourmet lamb dumplings with sweet chili dipping sauce.”
“I’m more interested in your shaving fetish.”
“It’s not a fetish. Oh, look. There’s the box.” She ignored the amused grin on Stan’s face and reached for the box. “If these taste as good as they sound they’ll be another winner.”
“If it’s not a fetish, what is it?”
Mia popped the lid off the box. “Wow. Annie has outdone herself this time. Look.” She passed Stan the box. “Eat one—it might stop you from asking more questions.”
Stan ran his hand along his jaw. “I could grow a beard and see if you run a mile.”
She bit into one of the dumplings. “Mmm. Lovely.”
Stan picked up his fork. “You’ll have to tell me sooner or later. Why not make it sooner?” He ate a dumpling and came back for another. “If you wanted to increase your dating experience, you could almost call this a date.”
“We’re rating finger food options for the gala.”
“It’s close enough. It might give you confidence when planning your next dating experience.”
Mia picked up her pen and smiled sweetly at Stan. “What score would you give the dumplings?”
He studied the piece of dumpling still sitting on his fork. “They’re tasty without being overpowering. The dipping sauce is spicy, but not too strong. I’d give the dumplings four out of five. What’s next?”
“Mini chicken pies.”
“How appropriate,” Stan said without a flicker of a smile.
Mia didn’t bother looking for the box. “Okay, Mr. Lewis. I’m going to tell you why being clean shaven is important. I’ve got sensitive skin.”
“And?”
“And I get a rash if someone rubs their whiskery face on me.”
“Oh.” Stan sat back in his seat. He was taking far too much time to consider what she’d said.
“It’s not a big deal because your face won’t be getting anywhere near mine. You wanted an answer to your question and now you have it.”
“It was an important answer.”
She grabbed the chicken pie box and left it in front of Stan. “We’re not getting through our samples very quickly. You rate the chicken pies and I’ll move to the next item.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m a doctor. There are lots of creams that could help.”
Mia opened one of the boxes they hadn’t sampled. “You’d better try one of the chicken pies before they get cold.”
“How whiskery is too whiskery?” Stan bit into a pie and sighed. “Five.”
“Stubble can be worse than two days growth.”
Stan ran his hand along his jaw. “How does this rate?”
She shoved the box she’d opened at him. “Try the zesty chipotle black bean cakes.”
“I’ll get ahead of you.”
“In more ways than one,” Mia muttered. She pointed at the box. “Black beans are good for you.”
“So is kissing the right person. Next time we meet, I’ll check my face to make sure it’s not too whiskery.”
Mia couldn’t help herself. Her gaze dropped to his jaw and she sighed. “I won’t be kissing you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Now can we please taste what’s in these boxes? Annie needs our final choices by the end of the day.”
Stan grinned. “I’m all yours. Where do you want to start?”
A flash of heat scorched Mia from the inside out. He could start anywhere he liked, as long as it wasn’t near her mouth.
***
Later that afternoon, Stan picked up his phone and called his friend, Daniel. “I need help.”
“Have you locked your keys in your truck again?” Daniel sounded out of breath.
“Are you running?”
“Trying to. I’ve been cooped up inside working on a new computer program. Holly told me it was about time I came up for air. So I am. Around Emerald Lake.”
“How far have you gone?”
“Far enough for one day.” Daniel groaned and Stan heard the thump of something hitting the ground.
“Was that you or your backpack?”
“Me,” Daniel moaned. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“That’s what you told me two months ago when we went to Charlie’s Bar and Grill.”
“I’m getting forgetful, too. You’d better tell me why you need help before my muscles start cramping.”
“I think I might like Mia too much.” All Stan could hear was Daniel’s heavy breathing. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here. How much is too much?”
Stan loosened his tie. “I’m thinking of asking her out on a date.”
“A date? How can that be too much?”
“I’ve only known Mia for a few weeks. We’re working together. She might think I’m harassing her.”
“Does she like you?”
Stan rubbed his forehead. “How do you know if someone likes you?”
“Oh, man. You’re in worse shape than I thought you were. You need to go back to basics.”
“I’m too old for basics.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. Has Mia said anything that might make you think she’s attracted to you?”
Stan thought about their sensitive skin conversation. If she trusted him enough to tell him, then that must mean something. And then there was that moment when he thought she might want him to kiss her. But instead of kissing her, he kept eating the food samples. He was such an idiot.
“Earth to Stan. Is there any spark of attraction between the two of you?”
“I think so.”
“And does she want to spend time with you when you’re not talking about the gala?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s sigh echoed how Stan felt. “Does Annabelle like her?”
He didn’t have to think twice about that answer. “She talks about her all the time. We’re visiting Nick Costas’ Gallery this afternoon.”
“So Annabelle likes Mia and Nick. That’s got to be a good sign.”
“She might feel differently if she knows Mia and I are going on a date. She misses her mom.”
“Whatever happens, it won’t be easy for her. Maybe the opposite could happen. Mia might fill a void in Annabelle’s life. Look at it this way—if you ask Mia to go on a date, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Stan had spent most of the afternoon thinking about what could happen. “She could say no, then avoid me for the next three months.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad outcome.”
“The neonatal gala needs to be a success. If the two organizers are avoiding each other, it could be a complete mess.”
“I’ve known Mia for longer than you have. She wouldn’t let that happen.”
“I don’t think so, either. But I can’t risk it happening.”
“Well, I guess you’ve answered your own question,” Daniel said with a weary sigh. “But if you want my advice, I think you’re missing a great opportunity. Just remember, there’s no rush. You could always ask her on a date after the gala.”
“You’re right. I could wait.”
“I haven’t been much help, have I?”
“It was better than talking to myself for the next hour.”
Daniel’s dry laugh made Stan feel slightly better.
“If you’re not dating Mia, come out to my place with Annabelle. I’m cooking spare ribs on Saturday night.”
Stan picked up his cell phone and flicked through his calendar. “You’re on. We’ll bring dessert.”
“Don’t worry about Mia. If it’s meant to be, it will happen.”
He’d never believed in letting fate guide his life. Without having a clear goal, you could end up anywhere. And he wanted to end up with Mia.
“Thanks for your advice, Daniel. I’ll stop annoying you and let you get back to your run.”
“It was a good interruption. I might sit here for a while longer and let the world drift on by.”
“Good luck with that. You’ve got your cell phone with you.”
“But I can turn it off. See you on Saturday.”
After Daniel ended the call, Stan stared through his office window. He was proud of what he had achieved at the hospital. The community had access to services that were far better than anything they’d ever known. The same drive and determination that had kept him sane after Sandra died had made his time at the hospital successful. But sometimes, when Annabelle was asleep and the house was silent, a deep sense of loneliness grew inside him.
He was more than his job, more than a father. He was a man who craved the touch of another human, a kind word and a thoughtful glance from someone who cared.
He wanted to be loved, but he didn’t know how to take the first step.