CHAPTER ELEVEN

Peter knocked on the door and it whipped open. Benji stood there with a wide grin. “Uncle Peter.” He took a stance in his red T-shirt with SpongeBob standing next to Patrick. “Want to see what I learned in karate this week?”

“I’d love to.” Peter stepped inside, an oven-roasted chicken scent floating in the air, making his stomach growl.

Benji kicked his leg out, then pulled his arms in. “Mom and her friend are in the kitchen.”

“Friend?” Laura hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be joining them for dinner. Peter adjusted his gray dress shirt.

Benji nodded. “Mom says she’s beautiful and you’ll like her.”

“Oh, she did?” Not again.

“But I’m not supposed to say anything.” He covered his mouth.

“I won’t tell her,” Peter said as he tried to decide if he should turn around and leave.

“Peter, is that you?” Laura’s voice carried into the entryway.

“Yeah, Mom, he’s here,” Benji shouted.

The decision was made. Now he had to go meet Laura’s friend. Reluctantly, he walked into the cozy kitchen. He made eye contact with his sister. Another woman, with short black hair and wearing a cream-colored pantsuit, turned around.

“Peter, this is my friend, Fiona.” Laura beamed as if she’d solved world hunger.

“Hello,” Fiona said, then extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Peter shook her hand, noticing her manicured nails, and said, “Hi.” He wished Laura had told him she was having a friend over. He might have come anyway, but at least it would’ve been his choice. Now he felt pressured.

“Laura tells me you are a speech therapist,” Fiona said.

He nodded and smiled, feeling almost as if he were back in middle school.

“I think that’s fabulous. What an interesting career.” Fiona looked at him with her dark brown eyes.

“I enjoy it.” The room felt warm and small.

“Peter works mainly with senior citizens,” Laura said, offering Peter a glass of water. For a moment, he thought about dumping the glass on her head for putting him in this precarious position.

“I bet that’s fascinating.” Fiona moved in closer.

Peter loosened his collar. “I have some great patients.”

A phone chimed and Fiona reached into her pocket. “I’m sorry. I have to get this. It’s a client.” She stepped into the other room.

“She’s a real estate agent. Isn’t she beautiful?” Laura said with way too much enthusiasm.

“Why do you do this?” he said gruffly.

She gently tapped him on the shoulder. “You need to date, Peter.”

“Says who? Is there some unwritten rule that every single man has to date?”

“You’ve been divorced for how many years now?” She held up a hand and started counting her fingers.

“Your point?” Sometimes his sister was exasperating.

“You need a companion.”

“So do you.” He regretted it as soon as he said it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No need to apologize.” She shrugged and shook her head. “I know I sprung this on you. I just thought you’d like to meet someone.” Laura began tossing the salad.

“Maybe. But I’d rather do it on my own. Remember the last time you tried to set me up? It was a disaster. I’m lucky I survived.”

“How was I supposed to know her jealous ex-boyfriend would show up and threaten you with a knife?” Laura whispered.

Fiona walked back into the room. “I am so, so sorry, but I’ll need to take a raincheck. I have a buyer for this property that needs to meet me right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Laura said.

Fiona turned to Peter. “I do hope we’ll get another chance to get acquainted. Laura has told me so much about you. I’d love to get to know you better.”

Peter smiled.

With that, Fiona left.

Laura started laughing uncontrollably.

“What is so funny?” Was his sister having a breakdown?

When Laura pulled herself together, she said, “I’m the worst matchmaker ever.”

“I agree.” He laughed.

Laura dished up some chicken and salad, then handed Peter his plate. “Oh, before I forget, can you pick up Benji from his afterschool program on Thursday? I have a meeting.”

“Sure. We can go get some dinner.” Peter grabbed a crescent roll.

“Yes!” Benji said, pulling his arms through the air and down to his side in a satisfied gesture.

“Where would you like to go?” Peter asked.

“We have our spirit night at Smitty’s Barbecue,” Laura said. She poured her son a glass of milk. “Smitty’s pays a percentage to Benji’s school for everyone that eats there.”

“And the class with the most kids that go gets T-shirts.” Benji shoved in a big bite of chicken followed by a roll, giving himself chipmunk cheeks.

“Benji, don’t stuff your mouth, please. Remember your manners.” Laura turned to Peter. “I can meet you there.”

“It’s a date,” he said.