should go,” Birdie insisted. Even though she was only a year older, Birdie acted like Lacy’s mother sometimes.
“Why, so I can be traumatized all over again?” Lacy shook her head. “It took me years to get over all the pranks and ridicule. Returning to the scene of the crime could reverse all my progress.”
“What progress?” Rose asked. “You never go out, and you never date.”
Lacy furrowed her brow. “I go to the café all the time.”
“Alone and you sit in the back,” Birdie pointed out. “Your back brace is gone, but you’re still hiding in the corner.”
Lacy’s jaw dropped. She wanted to argue but couldn’t. Her sister was right.
“So we’re making Lacy a dating profile,” Josie continued, looking back down at the laptop’s screen. “Twenty-eight years old, loves to read, and takes long walks in the park.”
“I never said anything about the park,” Lacy objected.
“It sounds more romantic that way.” Josie didn’t bother to look up. “Loves exotic fruit…”
“I said hot dogs.”
This time Josie turned her head and looked at Lacy over her shoulder. “Hot dogs don’t go on dating profiles…but cute, wagging dogs do.” Her fingers started flying across the keyboard.
“I like cats.” Lacy watched for another moment and then went to pour herself another glass of wine as the women created her profile at FishInTheSea.
After a few drinks, she relaxed a little and started feeding Josie more details about herself. She wasn’t actually going to do this, of course. Online dating seemed so unromantic. She wanted to find Mr. Right the old-fashioned way, where fate introduced him into her life and sparks flew like a massive explosion of fireworks. Or at least like a sparkler.
* * *
An hour later, Lacy said goodbye to the group and sat on the couch. She gave the book she’d wanted to discuss a sidelong glance, and then she reached for her laptop. The dating profile stared back at her, taking her by surprise. They’d used a profile picture from when she’d been a bridesmaid at a wedding last year. Her hair was swept up and she had a dipping neckline on her dress that showed off more skin than normal. Lacy read what Josie and her sisters had written. The truth was disregarded in favor of more interesting things.
Lacy was proud of who she was, but the women were right. She wasn’t acting that way by shying away from her reunion. She was acting like the girl in the back brace, quietly sitting in the far corner of the room out of fear that others might do something nasty like stick a sign on her back that read KICK ME! I WON’T FEEL IT!
“Maybe I should go to the reunion,” she said out loud. “Or maybe I should delete this profile and forget all about it.”
The decision hummed through her body along with the effect of one too many glasses of wine. After a moment, she shut the laptop and went to bed. She could decide her profile’s fate tomorrow.
* * *
The next morning, Paris woke with the birds outside his window. After a shower and a quick bite, he grabbed his laptop to work on the deck, which served as his office these days. Before getting started on the Peak Designs logo, he scrolled through email and social media. He clicked on Mr. Jenson’s profile again, only to read a post that Paris probably didn’t need first thing in the morning.
The computer skills class was a complete waste of time. Learned nothing. Either I’m a genius or the instructor is an idiot.
The muscles along the back of his neck tightened. At least he didn’t need to wonder if Mr. Jenson would be back.
He read another post.
Went to see Nancy today. I think she misses her roses more than she misses me. She wants to come home, and this old house certainly isn’t home without her.
Paris felt like he’d taken a fall from his bike, landing chest-first and having the breath knocked out of him. Why wasn’t Mrs. Jenson home? What was wrong with her? And why was Mr. Jenson so different from the man he remembered?
Paris pushed those questions from his mind and began work on some graphic designs. Several hours later, he’d achieved much more than he’d expected. He shoved his laptop into its bag, grabbed his keys, and rode his motorcycle to the library. As he walked inside, his gaze immediately went to the librarian. Her hair was pulled back with some kind of stick poking through it today.