Jon Whitfield loaded suitcases into his friend Travis’s car. Yesterday he’d driven from the foothills of the Smoky Mountains to Travis and Suzanne’s house in Nashville, Tennessee. He’d left his Corvette in their garage, and he and Travis had taken turns driving to a hotel in southern Indiana where the three of them spent the night.

Travis’s wife, Suzanne, six months pregnant, appreciated and needed the addition of a hotel stay to the trip itinerary. If Jon had been making this journey alone, he’d be hours further along. But, then again, if he were going alone to this machine fabricating conference in Minneapolis, Minnesota, he would have flown instead. He was uneasy about being away from the factory for the additional time that driving required.

“Suzanne, how are you handling the trip?” Jon asked when Travis pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

She settled into her seat and smiled. “Great. I’m really enjoying the scenery. Everything is so lush and green. This two-lane highway to Serendipity will be beautiful—wooded areas, fields of corn, soybeans, whatever. And neat homes. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere but Nashville but can see why David and Emily love it here.”

Travis increased his speed to fifty-five when they left the little town, though he had to slow often for curves. “I’m sure glad to be done with the interstate for a while. But don’t worry, Jon. We’ll make up time when we get on the next one.”

Jon picked up his phone. “I’ll let David know we’re only about an hour away. I want to be sure he has time to kick a path through the house before we get there.”

Travis laughed. “That was the old days, buddy. Haven’t you visited since he and Emily got married?”

Jon paused, considered rewording the text. “Been busy. You know the drill.”

“Sure, but you know. Friends?” Travis shook his head. “Emily has that house looking great. Even now that they have Isabel, it’s so neat you won’t recognize it. Emily and Suzanne have that in common. Right, honey?”

Suzanne patted her tummy. “I hope to be as good a mom as Emily is. I assume she used a front-end loader to transform David’s house into a home.”

Jon finished the text, which no longer included the phrase kick a path. He hit send. “Does that mean you can’t build forts with pizza boxes anymore?”

Suzanne and Travis both laughed.

Jon watched the rural scenery slide past. He felt bad that he hadn’t visited David since the wedding. And he felt like a heel for trying to talk Travis out of this side trip. There were a couple of reasons. One was the stated busyness. He’d taken a big chance by leaving a successful company to take over a struggling, large machine shop in little Legend, Tennessee. His income was drastically lower and he had more responsibilities than ever, but he knew if things went right, he could make a difference for a lot of people.

If this conference hadn’t been so important, he’d have stayed home and worked. This was the first time since Jon’s career shift that he and Travis had both managed to attend the conference. Back in the day, the company they worked for had paid for both of them to attend. Jon was footing his own bill this year and looked forward to both the business networking and the personal reconnections.

The other reason he had avoided Serendipity since Emily and David’s wedding was Emily’s best friend, Kim. The woman had treated him like pond scum when they met at the wedding and, for some reason, he couldn’t get that out of his head. Since then, he’d only seen David at their annual guys’ trip with Travis and their other college friends or at someone else’s home. Not in Serendipity.

Never before had Jon made an effort to avoid a pretty, smart woman. He wouldn’t tell the others and knew it was ridiculous, but Kim had made an indelible impression on him, and he didn’t know why.

He gave himself a mental shake. This brief stop should be fine; there shouldn’t be an opportunity to run into her. They would be at David’s only for a couple of hours for a visit over brunch, then hit the road again.

Travis looked in the rearview mirror at his wife. “You still doing okay? Need anything?”

Jon saw Suzanne’s eyes roll. “Travis, I’m fine. I’m healthy, well fed, even well-rested for the most part. If I’d realized how much you were going to obsess about me being along, I might have stayed home.”

Travis’s brows raised. “What? No way. I’d obsess ten times as much if I wasn’t with you. This way, you get a little vacation, see some sights. Or you can lie around the hotel room or the pool all day if you want.”

Suzanne grinned, her cheeks turning a bit pink when she saw Jon watching her. He wondered if she would be bored stiff the whole time he and Travis were at the conference.

What the couple didn’t talk about was the two miscarriages they’d suffered. Travis only told Jon about them when they were preparing to sign up for the conference. He didn’t want to leave Suzanne at home, her doctor advised against flying, and the road trip began to evolve.

Jon didn’t know much about pregnancy, thank goodness, but for his friends’ sake wanted to do everything possible to keep Suzanne well and comfortable.

Travis laughed suddenly, jerking Jon out of his reverie. “Hey, Jonny-boy, tell Suzanne the fishing trip story. You know, when you caught every bit of trash in ten square miles of ocean? I’ve told her, but I know it’ll be a lot funnier if you do your version.”

Jon groaned silently. He would never live down that story but, at least, if he told the tale, it wouldn’t be as grossly overstated as he knew was currently circulating. Making the miles go past more quickly was an incentive, and by the time they reached David’s house, he’d be done with the story.

“Okay, if I must. Suzanne, you know the way your husband and our other so-called friends like to pick on each other? Well, that fishing trip, it seemed to be my turn to be the butt of all jokes.” He paused, remembering as if it were yesterday and deciding how to tell it, while omitting what he didn’t want to share.

****

Jon pulled with all his might on the industrial-strength fishing pole. Finally, this would be something worth keeping. His buddies had all reeled in a big fish. Some had been photographed and thrown back, but they would be grilling Ryan’s catch at their rented condo tonight. Maybe Jon could provide tomorrow’s lunch. So far he had only provided laughs for his friends with the array of ocean-garbage he’d snagged his line on.

A few minutes later, Travis, leaning over the rail, started to laugh. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Jonny-boy.”

He wanted to cut the line right then, knowing there was no fish. Again.

The guys all took out their phones and photographed him while he pulled each item out of the seaweed-entangled remains of an old net. A deflated Mylar balloon, the rings from a pack of aluminum cans, some plastic shopping bags, and a large rubber boot.

Dustin held up the boot with a thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know, Jon. Maybe you should keep this boot and try again. With your amazing luck, you might pull in its mate.” He handed the slimy boot to Jon, and the phone cameras went off again.

Jon noticed the boot wasn’t empty. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what it contained, but curiosity took over. He held it as far from his face as he could to avoid being overwhelmed by the stench and still see what was in it. He pulled out a wine bottle, and the guys started laughing again.

Ryan slapped him on the back. “Hey, Jon, is that a priceless vintage that fell overboard a couple hundred years ago? That would be almost better than a decent-sized fish.”

No, it wasn’t a priceless vintage. The label of a middle-grade winery was mostly gone, and the bottle was stoppered but empty.

Or was it?

Travis grabbed the bottle from Jon and held it aloft. “Oh, wow, check this out. Message in a bottle. Could be your dream girl, Jonny-boy.” Brows raised above his laughing eyes, he handed the bottle back and clasped his hands in mock anticipation. “Okay, we’re waiting.”

Jon felt the heat on his neck. The ribbing was typical, but for some reason, discovering the message in a bottle was something he didn’t feel like being jabbed about. “Yeah? Waiting for what?”

Dustin’s eyes rolled. “Open it, idiot. Let’s see what it says.”

Just to shut them up, he worked at the stopper until it finally released. A note, tightly bound with a red hair bungee, slid out. He read it quickly, expecting it to be something ridiculous. But instead, the simple, heartfelt note tugged at his jaded heart. Here was a woman who thought little of herself and didn’t expect to find love it seemed, by message in a bottle or any other means. Maybe he was reading between the lines too much. He had a tendency to do that—Andrea told him so plenty of times.

Andrea. Yeah, Jon didn’t need to swoon over a note in a bottle. He was engaged to a blond bombshell.

He rolled up the note, secured it with the bungee, slid it back down the throat of the bottle, and replaced the stopper. Then he tossed the bottle aside. It landed with a thud on the pile of garbage he had pulled in during the expensive fishing trip. “Satellite TV ad. Let’s go below and get a beer.”

The guys were always relentless in picking on each other, and today his poor luck at fishing meant it was his turn to be on the receiving end. It was all part of their typical interplay, and he knew the best defense was to ignore them and divert their attention. Beer was sometimes quite useful for this. A game on TV was another winner, but the fishing boat for tourists off the coast of Florida didn’t provide TV. Evidently, they expected the participants to be satisfied with a day on the ocean, camaraderie, food, and drink.

Go figure.

At the highly polished bar below deck, Jon bought a round for everyone and settled into one of the chairs, joining in the conversation about the Cubs’ chances of winning the World Series this year. That was much better than thinking about the stupidly romantic idea of a message in a bottle.

In spite of himself, his mind wouldn’t let go of the bottle with the piece of paper scrolled inside.

The rest of the fishing excursion was uneventful. Jon didn’t try again, opting to cheer his buddies on, leaning against the rail, inhaling the salty air, and being generally awed by the never-ending expanse of the ocean that met the bowl of an intense blue sky. In spite of his lack of fishing luck, today was perfect. Great weather, plenty of good-natured ribbing at his expense, decent food and drink.

He and the guys had done trips together every year for a while now. At the airport when he was waiting for his flight to meet the others, he had fallen into conversation with an elderly gentleman who was on his way to spend a week with his friends. The old man’s face was a lined map of his life, and when he spoke of the friends he was going to meet, his eyes sparkled. He had clapped Jon on the shoulder. “The boys and I have been doing this trip every year for forty years, young man. I hope you and your friends will reach that milestone. I’ll tell you, it’s worth trying.”

Jon had muttered something in agreement, in awe of the man and his friends and forty years of making their relationship a priority. How great was that?

Jon would love to achieve such a record, but he didn’t know about some of the others. Three of them were married now; one was a dad, and another would be in a few months. Already they had to avoid the birthdays of wives and one child when comparing calendars to schedule their trip. Soon there’d be the complication of even more kids’ birthdays and, before long, their sports events. Jon knew the guys wouldn’t intentionally let their friendships fade into the background, but that was part of what women did.

Yeah, Jon knew all about how women could change your life. Being in a relationship started out seeming like a good idea, then a great idea. Andrea was gorgeous; he was lucky she was interested in him. But he wasn’t sure how they’d ended up engaged.

Was he ready for that commitment? From one day to the next, he didn’t know what to expect of her.

Travis punched his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. “What are you dreaming about, Jonny-boy?”

He stood up straight, preparing his rebuff and feeling a slow smile appear. “Just wondered if we could lower you with a rope around your feet and use you as bait for some real fish.”

Travis laughed. “Unless somebody else is manning the poles, there’s no use in even trying that, Jon. You better be happy with your bottle in a boot and leave the fishing to the real men.”

Jon laughed with him. Fishing wasn’t the point of the trip. Spending time with his buddies was the point.

When Travis turned back toward the rail, Jon looked at the pile of garbage again. The boot was there, but he couldn’t see the bottle. Must have gotten hidden under something else. He’d find a quiet moment later and retrieve the note.

But even after he bought another round of beers downstairs and excused himself to use the “head” then slipped up on deck, he couldn’t locate the bottle. Had it somehow been discarded overboard again? Had someone else opened it, read the note, and laughed at it? He shrugged, trying not to care. Trying not to feel he’d just missed the chance of a lifetime. He remembered part of the note, but not the email address. What he knew he’d never forget was the way the woman’s words had affected him.

Andrea’s face jumped into his head. Jon was engaged to an exciting, beautiful woman. His future was on course. At this point in his life, he didn’t need to start obsessing over possibilities.

****

When Jon finished telling the tale, carefully omitting the content of the note and how it made him feel, he looked to the backseat for Suzanne’s reaction. Her eyes were closed, and her head tipped to one side.

“Good job, Jonny boy,” Travis said softly. “Lulled her right to sleep with your riveting remembrances. She needs the rest, so maybe you can tell the story again later.”

Jon chuckled. Fine by him that Suzanne hadn’t heard the whole thing. It was an embarrassment to his manhood. But more than that, each time he thought of the fishing expedition, he wondered what happened to the bottle and note. What if he had stuck the note in his pocket, and emailed the woman? He was surprised, after what he’d been through with Andrea, that he was even a tiny bit romantic.

As the only one of the college friends still single, he had the image of bachelor-for-life. The guys and their wives had been working on him in the last couple of years, trying to set him up. If he went to visit their homes, they’d have a dinner party planned, with an extra woman, single, smart, and beautiful. Without exception, he enjoyed their company, and just as universally, he’d been glad to say good-bye when they parted ways.

Two women, for wildly different reasons, had helped Jon realize he was a bad risk when it came to relationships—his ex-fiancée Andrea and Emily Standish’s friend Kim.