Page 57 of The Icing on the Cake
“How about we get back to our topic at hand,” Emmy says. “Let’s help Lucian with ideas for how he can impress Neesha. What’s the most thoughtful thing a guy has ever done for you?”
Clara raises her hand. “Cade brought me chamomile tea and fuzzy socks when my chronic fatigue syndrome was flaring up. It wasn’t fancy, but it showed that he saw me—the real me, not just the put-together version I allow everyone else to see. I think the best dates demonstrate you’ve been paying attention to who she really is.”
“Okay, so I should bring her something she wouldn’texpect,” I say, taking note of this. Cade has been surprisingly thoughtful since he started dating Clara.
“Or just something that matters to her,” Marcy clarifies. “Clément keeps surprising me at the ranch, like he’s really trying to care about the things I care about. I thought hockey players were all ladies’ men, but he shows up ready to help, even when I haven’t asked him to. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but it’s hard not to notice someone who actually follows through.”
“I think sometimes the unplanned moments are the most romantic,” Fiona says. “Weston and I had a moment like that recently, and it wasn’t some grand gesture. It was just…real. So whatever you do, don’t make it seem too pretentious.”
“So I shouldn’t over-plan, but leave room for spontaneity?”
“Right,” she confirms.
Bailey nods her head. “I agree with that. Carson defended me when my family was giving me grief about my maple butter business. He didn’t just support my dreams, he validated them too. Then when we were out once, he carved our initials into the old apple tree by the lake. It wasn’t a planned thing—it was just sweet. So don’t discount the little things.”
“Neesha mentioned the lake is one of those special places,” I say. “She used to go there with her mom.”
“As one of Neesha’s oldest friends, I’d say make the date about her,” Mabel adds. “Asher makes me feel like I can just be myself around him. In a town where everyone’s watching, he’s the one person who lets me be messy and imperfect.”
“Great advice,” I say, looking around at these women who clearly care about Neesha as much as I do. “You ladies are giving me a lot to think about.”
Emmy reaches for a well-worn book on the side table. “Well, before we get too carried away planning your dating strategy, we should probably discuss our actual book of the month. Coincidentally, it might give us even more insight. This month we’re readingPride and Prejudice, which happens to be Neesha’s all-time favorite.”
“Really?” I ask.
Mary-Ellen nods enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s read it at least a dozen times. Always has loved Mr. Darcy—the misunderstood man who proves he’s more than just a wealthy bachelor.”
“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Emmy muses, shooting me a meaningful look. “If a modern Mr. Darcy were planning the perfect date for a modern Elizabeth, what would it include?”
“Dancing,” Mary-Ellen declares without hesitation. “There must be dancing.”
“As well as reading and intelligent conversation,” Mrs. Nelson adds. “Elizabeth values a man’s mind.”
“I think you’re both missing the point,” Noreen says, fanning herself dramatically. “The perfect date needs romance, ladies!”
The women laugh, because no one could challenge that.
And suddenly I know exactly what Neesha needs. Not just a date, but romance. The kind she deserves but has never had.
“Thank you,” I say, standing with new purpose. “I know exactly what I need to do.”
CHAPTER 17
NEESHA
“I’ll take a small black decaf coffee along with the cupcakes,” Mrs. Nelson says as she steps up to the cafe counter to pick up her order for tonight’s historical society meeting.
“You got it,” I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel after last night’s cupcake-decorating marathon. My feet are killing me. And honestly? I’d rather be home binge-watching Netflix with Henry. Or—and I’m not proud of this—checking on my neighbor while pretending I’m cleaning my house. The man could have his own reality show calledHot Guys Doing the Dishesand I’d be his biggest fan.
As I reach for a pen in my apron pocket, I pull out an old envelope, the one I found in the back room when I tripped over a box of old books.
“Mrs. Nelson, wait. I found this recently tucked inside some donated books. It’s a love letter from 1849, and I thought you might know who wrote it.”
She examines the envelope. “My goodness, look at that beautiful penmanship. What does it say?”
I hand her the letter to read. “Catherine…” She glances away like she’s trying to remember. “There were several Catherines in the old families, but without V’s last name, it’s hard to say which one. This is fascinating though—a real piece of our town’s history.”
“Do you think we could find out more about them?”
