Once Upon a Date - Susan Hatler Page 0,25

she was raring to go. I settled back down on the barstool and retrieved my pages from under Krista’s bag.

“Oh, Michelle! You’ll never guess what my boss did,” she said, as if she’d already forgotten her promise to be quiet.

“I’m sure I won’t.” I looked pointedly at Krista, but she was busy chopping garlic and didn’t glance up to see me staring.

She paused, knife poised in the air. “My boss was peering into her hand mirror, and kept asking us if we could see a wrinkle on her forehead. None of us could, because, you know, she paid a lot to have that taken care of since there used to be wrinkles and now nada.”

“Krista, I really have to get this typed out if we’re going to have dinner.”

“Oh, right. No problem.” She nodded and went back to chopping. I only had two sentences typed out in my first paragraph when Krista started laughing. Her gaze darted to me and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops, sorry. I was just thinking about the mirror my boss pulled out that looked like a magnifying glass, as she kept insisting there was a new wrinkle. There wasn’t, but she wouldn’t listen. You know?”

“I can imagine . . .”

“I mean, I know she’s probably in her mid-fifties or so, but still. Aging is part of the deal. No need to obsess on it, right? I’m so not looking forward to menopause.”

I fixed my gaze on the sliver of garlic, which Krista had jettisoned onto my laptop screen, and watched it slowly slide down like a really pungent snail.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

I wiped the screen and sat back down. “Thanks. This won’t take me that long, but I really have to get to it while the words are coming.”

There was silence for a couple of minutes, and I started to relax.

“How old do you think she is, though?” Krista asked, chopping away at an onion. “You’ve met my boss. She’s not close to retirement age. You don’t think she’ll retire, do you? I’d really hate it if she did. She’s easy to work for and you always hear stories about scary bosses and—”

“Krista, hello? Typing . . .”

“Oops, again. I’ll zip it.”

We fell into an industrious peace, with me tapping away at my keyboard and Krista . . . actually, Krista was nowhere to be seen while her tomato basil sauce bubbled over, splashing out of the pan and onto my pages.

“Kristaaaa!”

A red-faced Krista slunk out of the bathroom, a small compact in her hand. “What is it?”

“Your sauce is bubbling over. What were you doing?”

She came around to my side of the countertop and jutted her chin out in my direction. “Can you just check my forehead for me. I think I see a new wrinkle, but I’m not sure.”

I snatched the compact from her hand. “You’re twenty-seven. You don’t have wrinkles, you’re not menopausal, and your sauce is sticking.”

I moved my laptop from the countertop to the couch, just as my phone buzzed. I leaned back into the cushions, sighing because I really needed to get some work done. But what if my mom had been in a car accident? Or I’d won the lottery? Or something equally important. . .

I checked my cell screen, and saw a text from Brooks. My belly did a little flip as I opened the message: Hey, you ok?

I sent a text back: Good, thanks. You?

Twenty seconds later, my phone chirped: Actually . . . I want to apologize for upsetting you about your stepbrother. It wasn’t my place and I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

I typed back: Thx. I know you meant well.

A few seconds later: Can I make it up to you?

My heart melted a little. I replied: What do you have in mind?

He wrote: Another date. This time, one from MY story. Well, if I’d written one. . .

I’d been so engrossed in texting Brooks that I hadn’t even heard Missy coming in, but it was perfect timing.

“Guess what?” I asked, hurrying over to her. “Brooks just asked me if he could take me out on the kind of date he’d plan if this were his book and not mine. What do you think?”

My phone buzzed again: Well?

Missy grinned. “I think he luurves you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Krista? Your opinion?”

She looked at Missy and they both winked. “You obviously want to go, so yes. Do it. Michelle, the guy sounds smitten. Woo-woo.”

“That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.” I