Page 3 of A Small Town Spring

“I better check his work,” I say.My friends, decked out as their kitchen is, don’t have a wine fridge, so I head to the regular one while making a mental note for this year’s Christmas present.Luckily, there are several bottles of nice bubbly already chilling.Unless their guests don’t like hundred-dollar bottles of champagne, Pete can’t go wrong.I see some decent reds on the counter, too.My boy’s got this.

“Tell me what’s happening, Van.Haven’t seen you in a while.”I crack the bottle of rosé for an aperitif and pour myself a glass.“Want some?”

Van shakes his head and holds up his beer.“I was in the city last week, but didn’t have time to get in touch.”

“New play?”

“Auditions, mostly,” he says.“But I booked a guest spot on some crime show that shoots in a couple of weeks.And we decided what we’re doing for Shakespeare in the Park at the Art Center this summer.”

“You’re in on that?”

He smiles sheepishly.The man who used to pooh-pooh local theater has become a vocal proponent of the Rosedale Art Center’s theater department.“I’m co-directing with Dulcie.My first directing credit.”

I thump him on the back.“All right.I’ll have to clear my schedule to catch opening night.What are you performing?”

“We’re going to doMuch Ado About Nothing.”

“One of my favorites.Can’t wait to see what you and Dulcie do with it.”

“Thanks, Kingston.”

“And how is the cookie business, Beckett?”

Van wrinkles his nose at my use of Beck’s full name.I smirk inwardly.I do it because I’m a literary snob and I enjoy the allusion.And it’s fun to see Van, who used to chase tail like it was his job, get jealous over a simple familiarity.If I don’t have anyone to get jealous over, might as well have some fun with my friends.Besides, Beck is completely devoted to his man.

“The shop is about to celebrate its seven-month anniversary,” Beck says, turning the flame off under the risotto.“And I hired a couple of new people for up front.”

“Nice.How’s your house?”

“It’s a wreck,” Beck says happily, “but we’re almost done with the kitchen.”

“We found mold in the basement,” Van says dryly.“So remediating that is going to be a bitch.But remodeling is a marathon, not a sprint.”

“You’re doing a great job with the place.”

“So now you’ve caught up on us, what about you?”Van asks.

“Same old,” I say, shrugging.I don’t mention my business idea because I want to run it by Jack before I let it out into the wider world.“I had a client debut at the top of the list last week, so that was pretty cool.”Not the first time, but it’s always amazing to be able to make that call.

“Congrats,” Van says.“You seeing anybody?”

The question takes me by surprise, and I stumble over my response.“I—why do you ask?”

“There’s a guy I know who recently moved to the city.Thought you two might want to hang out,” Van says offhandedly.

I feel my eyebrows touch in the middle with how hard I’m staring him down.“You’re trying to set me up?”That’s a first.

Van’s tan cheeks get a shade darker.“Look, if you aren’t interested, no harm.He’s a good guy, though.”

“Attractive?”I ask, still suspicious.I remember Van’s threat to me when I meddled in, scratch that,aided out of the kindness of my heart,his and Beck’s budding romance.He swore he’d retaliate one day when I fell in love.Maybe this is his way of paying me back.

“He’s good-looking,” Van says evasively.“He’s an actor—or trying to be.I think he’s temping right now.”

“Sounds young.You know I’m not really into the Daddy thing.”I touch my tie self-consciously.

“He’s mid-twenties.”

“And you don’t look a day over thirty,” Beck adds with the overconfidence of a twenty-six-year-old.

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