Page 31 of The Icing on the Cake
“Stubborn as always,” I admit. “And completely unwilling to give any man the time of day.”
“That sounds like Neesha. Nate Simpson did a number on her.” Mimi takes a bite of a key lime cupcake. “Oh, that girl knows how to bake. Her momma and I spent hours in mykitchen when they moved back here, sharing our family recipes. I knew her grandma first—we went to school together. Her mom had this way with pastries that was pure magic, and she passed every bit of it to Neesha. She was her mother’s little shadow in the kitchen, always wanting to help measure and mix. That’s why Neesha should be running her own bakery empire, not hiding behind that espresso machine.”
“Isn’t that why she’s planning on moving to Seattle, to open her own place?” I say.
Mimi frowns. “Seattle? Nonsense. What’s Seattle got that Maple Falls doesn’t have?”
“Opportunity and a bigger market,” I say decisively. “Plus, no painful reminders of her ex lurking around every corner.”
“Okay, so you’re not wrong. That boy made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for him, whenhe’sthe one not worth her time.” She shakes her head. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”
“You’re not the only one,” I say. “Her friends think she needs to get back out there, just to remember what it’s like to have fun.”
“And?” Mimi’s eyes narrow like she can sense I’m building up to something. “Don’t tell me you’re just sitting around twiddling your thumbs while she wastes away in that bookstore.”
I shift in my seat. “Well, I may have offered to help with that.”
“Helphow?” Her voice has that edge of disapproval that makes small children straighten up.
My knee starts bouncing up and down. “I might have suggested we go on a practice date.”
Mimi sets down her cupcake so slowly, I get the feeling she’s trying not to throw it at my head. “Awhatnow?”
“A practice date,” I repeat, suddenly feeling like I’m confessing a deep, dark secret. “You know, no pressure, just as friends so I can help her get back into the dating scene.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Mimi smacks the table hard enough tomake her bingo markers jump. “That’s the most chicken-hearted thing I’ve ever heard in all my years on this planet!”
Several ladies turn to look, but Mimi ignores them and continues her rant.
“A practice date? What are you, twelve years old? Either you want to court the girl or you don’t!” She glares at me. “That poor child has been made to feel like she’s not worth a real date by one fool already, and she’s been convinced she’s some kind of consolation prize instead of the treasure she is. Now you want to make her ‘practice’ for some other man?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that!” She jabs her finger at my arm. “You think you’re being noble, giving her a safe option, but what you’re really doing is telling her she’s not ready to date yet.”
“She wanted dating lessons,” I say. “I was trying to make it easier for her…”
“Easier?” Mimi snorts. “Honey, if you want easy, get a goldfish. If you want that girl, you better start acting like a man who knows what he wants instead of some scaredy-cat offering practice runs.”
“Well, maybe she wants it that way,” I say. “Because I’m not sure she’d say yes if I did ask her for a real date.”
She studies me for a second, putting down her bingo chip. “That might be true,” she admits, “especially given her history. That business with Nate wasn’t her first experience with untrustworthy men, and all of it combined has made her feel completely worthless.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Mimi leans toward me and lowers her voice. “When she was about eight, her mother had a customer—insurance office where she worked in Portland—who became obsessed with her. Started showing up at their apartment, leaving gifts, following them to the grocery store.”
“You mean a stalker?”
“I’d call him worse names, but yes. It escalated until they had to get a restraining order. Her mom called me in the middle of the night, terrified. I told her to come here immediately—Maple Falls would keep them safe. That’s the thing about small towns. We take care of our own. After they moved here, they became like family.” She sighs. “But her mother never fully recovered from that fear, and Neesha didn’t either. Nothing ever came of it after that, thank goodness. But she learned early that some men see kindness as invitations, and boundaries as challenges. Respect isn’t part of the equation.”
“I had no idea,” I say quietly, pieces clicking into place. Her hesitation about telling me where she lived. The way she flinches sometimes when surprised. The walls she puts up around me.
“And then Nate came along and each experience made the walls higher.” Mimi’s voice hardens. “She’s learned that protecting herself isn’t just paranoia—it’s survival. It’ll take time for her to learn to trust someone else.”
The weight of this information settles on my chest. “Thank you for telling me.”
Hearing this news only makes me more determined to prove that not all men are untrustworthy, that some of us know how to protect what matters. And that trust, once given, is something sacred—not something to exploit or take for granted.
