“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen ads on Craigslist for rentable ducks who wear money hats so party guests can pick up dollar bills while they walk by. Nothing is out of bounds on Craigslist.”
“So I underestimated the overwhelming number of unrealistic dreamers in the world—”
“Do you know how many people waste their money on the lottery? Do we live in the same universe?”
Bree frowned as she did a shuffle-hop over to the microwave and popped it open. “The point is, I didn’t mean to make him do that erupting-volcano face. For heaven’s sake, I didn’t even mean to do it that morning. Any of it. If I could take it all back, I would.” Bree popped over to the window yet again and looked out. No note in the window. The grass and trees were a muted gray beneath overcast skies, the street an eerie quiet. “I’m fairly certain I heard a Jekyll-and-Hyde laugh coming from his bedroom window that night though. What do you think that meant? Do you think I actually made him lose his mind?”
“If you’re asking if you are capable of making someone mentally unstable, then yes. I think we’ve been over that topic.”
Bree took a thoughtful sip of her coffee and started to hum.
“Bree, if you are actually worried that you ruined a genuine opportunity for him, why don’t you try something really novel?”
She set her coffee down. Her voice came out more desperate than she’d intended. “What?”
“Go out of your way to do something nice.”
Bree looked out over the distance between her house and his and considered the silence between.
It was ironic.
She had finally gotten what she wanted all along. Peace and quiet. A neighbor who minded his own business.
And it was more maddening than ever.
Bree started humming again.
“Stop,” Cassie said.
Bree stopped and took another sip. “I’ve gotta go. I have a dinner date.”
“What? With who?”
“Theo.”
“Theo? You’ve been dating a man named Theo and you’ve spent the last month giving me agonizingly long details about the neighbor’s dog?”
“Because it’s not as complex. Look, I’ll tell you all about it when I get back if you really want to know,” Bree said, and after a few more parting words, she hung up.
An hour later, seated at the Peppermill with Theo, Bree found herself transfixed by the butter dish sitting on the white tablecloth.
Chip never could have fit a business card onto it. The plate was too short and narrow.
“I’ll have the Shem Creek Sauté,” Theo said and handed the waiter his menu.
They both looked to her expectantly, and she looked up from her own menu, realizing she’d been sitting there for long minutes without reading a single item.
“Same,” Bree said, giving a slight smile.
“Without the shrimp,” Theo added swiftly.
“For yours, sir?”
“Hers.”
The waiter looked back to Bree, who was watching a woman slip off her coat of feathers. What if she botched up his opportunity? What if Chip had been going to something important Monday morning—she’d seen his face, his fresh suit, he had to be—and she had ruined it all?
The thought had visited her frequently—and with each visit, killed her—the past week.
There was a discreet cough and Bree jerked her head up. The waiter was still there, looking at her. “No shrimp for you, miss?”
“Oh. Yes. No shrimp. Thanks.”
The waiter gave a prim nod and drifted away. Bree turned to Theo. She attempted an easy smile. “Thanks for catching that.”
“No problem. I’ve heard those shellfish allergies are easy to forget about,” Theo replied. Though his smile was mirthful, his eyes held hers.
“So,” Bree said, trying to sound upbeat as she pulled down the hem of her dress again. “Tell me, what’s new in the great grand world of corporate finance?”
It took a moment before Theo blinked and stirred. He seemed to put his thoughts aside to take up the unexpected conversation. “This week one of my clients did make an interesting decision with one of his de novo banks in Asheville. It’s not final yet, but . . .”
Even as she stared at his face and focused on his words, she felt his voice starting to grow distant. His perfectly shaped mouth spoke, paused, took a sip of red wine, and continued speaking, but all she could focus on was the rhythm of his movements. Speak, pause, sip, repeat. Speak, pause, sip, repeat.
Her feet started tapping silently on the old hardwood floor beneath her, sliding to the steps.
Flap-flap-step-step-brush-hop-step, repeat.
Flap-flap-step-step-brush-hop-step, repeat.
Which reminded her: she had an audition in a matter of days.