foods for their holiday parties. After my husband took over the business, he added things like monthly box subscriptions and free twenty-mile delivery on all gift baskets.
In a small Midwest town like Epperly, friendship and loyalty meant everything. And no one was friendlier than Ron and Mary Smith. In return, they had the most loyal customers. Craig carried on that great family tradition and nourished those relationships. When he died, I felt obligated to keep the business going—for him, for the children, for his parents, and maybe even for the loyal customers who I knew would be disappointed to see their favorite specialty store go out of business if I didn’t step up and take over.
“What Did You Expect? is having a soft opening today.” Amie floated into the store like an angel carrying lunch—chicken noodle soup and fresh sourdough from Spoons, a soup cafe and bakery three shops down from Smith’s in the quaint Epperly town square. A line of maple trees and a small sculpture park filled the center of the square. Photographers fought for space in the fall when the leaves turned brilliant shades of red and gold. In December, they constructed a skating rink, our own version of Rockefeller Center.
“I love you.” I opened the brown bag when she set it on the checkout counter as a few customers milled around, browsing the new holiday inventory.
“Hot soup. Warm bread. Of course you love me.” She grinned, eyeing the new display of holiday caramel corn tins. On Fridays, she closed her clinic at noon and brought me lunch. It was a tradition that started after Craig died. I felt certain it was her way of making sure I was emotionally still hanging in there. After all, she was one of the four who knew the truth and therefore knew my true level of grief and guilt.
So much guilt.
“So what is it? Is it what you expected?” I stirred the soup and blew at the steam.
“Haven’t gone in yet. As I was leaving Spoons with lunch, they were taking down the black paper. The lights weren’t on yet, but as Penelope was getting my order ready, she said Kael—the owner—stopped into her cafe yesterday and gave her some twenty-percent-off coupons to distribute to her customers if she wanted to help spread the word.” Amie tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into her soup.
I nodded for her to sit on the stool as I leaned my butt against the edge of the counter. “But she didn’t say what he’s selling?”
“He just said it was a mix of awesomeness and that he would be offering some classes as well.” She chuckled. “Not going to lie, I’m dying to know what he defines as awesomeness.”
“Classes.” I perked up a bit. “It has to be an exercise studio of some sort. That’s my hope. Did you get a coupon for twenty percent off? We should think about joining. We could do early mornings since you don’t open until nine and I don’t open until ten. As it gets colder, we’re not going to want to walk outside every morning.”
“I don’t know. Penelope said he’s pretty hot. I’m not sure I want to slide into tight, synthetic fiber and sweat a ton in front of some hot guy.”
I rolled my eyes. “If he’s running a fitness studio, he’s probably young and out of our age range.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m expanding my acceptable age range. Since I’m forty-two, I think I can go fifteen years in either direction.”
I sipped my soup. “Fifteen? So you’d date a guy in his twenties?”
“Funny how you go in that direction. As a matter of fact, I would absolutely prefer a guy in his twenties to a guy in his late fifties. Why go gray-balling before you absolutely have to?”
I choked on my soup and reached for a napkin. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“I agree with Dr. Amie.” Susan, a fifty-something, longtime customer, set a few things on the checkout counter. “Go younger. Bill—my gray-balled husband—overeats at dinner then falls asleep on the sofa. He wakes up at two in the morning and starts groping me for sex because he’s had six good hours of sleep, and his prostate wakes him up with an urgent need to urinate. So he figures since he’s up, I might as well wake up and let him do his thing with me. But I’m up late reading, and my body has no desire to be invaded at that