Page 63 of Best Served Cold

A young mother at a table in the back lifts up a packet of wipes. Dottie hurries over to her, praising her in the highest terms imaginable, and then comes padding back over to the table. Every person in the shop watches as she takes out a wipe and starts cleaning my face as if I’m her toddler child.

To my shock, the blue crap is coming off, appearing on the wipe. “I can do that,” I say, taking the wipe from her.

“Use a circular motion,” Rainbow Glasses says a little too loudly, getting into the swing of things. “That’s it. You’re doing it.”

I scrub at my face, wondering why Dottie didn’t just tell me to buy baby wipes.

But I don’t need to ask, because she sits in the open chair across from me and says, “Now, we were just discussing whatyou can do to make Sophie realize your interest in her is genuine.”

The baby wipe drops from my fingers into my lap.

“Who says my interestisgenuine?”

Crocheting Constance snorts. “Who do you think, Einstein? I’ll give you three guesses.”

I fix a level gaze on Dottie. “Dottie, I don’t want to discuss my personal business with a couple of—”Old gossips.“Ladies I don’t know.”

“Oh, my dear boy,” she exclaims. “Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.”

Is someone handing out Pollyanna juice? I glance skeptically at the tea in front of me, and Constance gives another of those deep laughs. “That’s what Ted Bundy used to tell women too, you know,” she says. “Some strangers are friends you haven’t met yet. Others are psychopaths. It’s like playing the lottery.”

I think I like her. I still don’t want her to know that I’m fake-dating my brother’s ex-fiancée.

“Uh-huh,” says Rainbow Glasses. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? Like that movie about the simple boy and the shrimp. You never know what you’re gonna get.”

Glancing up at me, Constance points to her nose. “You still have some right there, son.”

I start wiping again, groaning at the pain that radiates through my nose.

“Dear me, that’s a real bruise,” Dottie says. “Well, I have just the cream for that. We’ll clear it up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Let me stop you right there.” I lift a hand. “I don’t need cream. I don’t need advice.” I hold up the container of baby wipes. “This right here is all I need. So thank you.”

“Have you been carrying the calcite?” Dottie asks, in the way of someone who knows I haven’t. Rainbow Glasses leans over the table to get a better listen. “On your person, I mean.”

“Did you break into my car and check my glove box for it?” I ask, feeling a surge of annoyance. This woman is well-meaning, obviously, but she’s also disrespectful of boundaries. A busybody.

“No, but I can sense you haven’t been carrying it.”

“Then you should get a job at that psychic place in the strip mall.”

She smiles beatifically at me. “Perhaps, because there’s something else I see.”

I sigh. “Give it to me. I can tell it’s going to be good.”

Ignoring my sarcasm, she says, “My dear boy. You may not know you have feelings for Sophie yet, butIcan see it. We all could see it at the brewery last night. Pink light practically beamed from you. Why did you think your brother was so upset?”

“Because I kissed his former fiancée right in front of him?”

“Yes, thatdidupset him,” Dottie says. “But if you ask me, what really upset him was that the kiss made Sophie breathless. Now, I’ve lived next door to that girl for over a year, and I’ve seen your brother give hermanygoodnight kisses, and I must say, her breathing never seemed the slightest bit impacted by any of them. Kissing him seemed to be as exciting for her as finding a good coupon.”

Crocheting Constance sets the ugly sweater aside, giving us her full attention. Apparently I’ve been deemed worthy of notice. “Speak for yourself,” she interjects. “I’ve never met a man as exciting as a coupon.”

“But you have that dreamy paramour,” says Rainbow Glasses.

“Yes, Ann, and I still prefer a good deal. A coupon doesn’t need any blue pills to carry out its intended purpose.”

“Neither do I,” I put in, because it seems like a good time to interject.

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