The Perfect Match

Dana looked up and saw. “Honor!” she called. “Do you have a second?”

Fungus. Feeling her face flush, Honor nodded. She went into the salon, which, though small, was a lot nicer than House of Hair.

“Mrs. Jenkins, I just need to take out your hearing aid, okay?” Dana asked, slipping it out. “There,” she said to Honor. “Now we can talk. The old bat’s deaf as dirt.”

An unexpected yearning swooped through Honor’s chest. For five years, since Dana moved to Manningsport, they’d been friends, the type of friend Honor hadn’t had since college. Hanging out, calling for no reason, commiserating over work, family, men. They’d had a lot of good times together. A lot of laughs.

Honor didn’t say anything. Then again, she didn’t leave, either.

“That’s some haircut,” Dana said. “Not bad. Where’d you get it done? Parisian’s?”

Still, Honor didn’t answer. They were not going to talk about hairstyles (but yes, it was Parisian’s).

“Look, you gave it your best shot, Honor. Okay?” Dana went on. “He didn’t love you. You’re the one who said you were done with him, and he and I just ran into each other one night at O’Rourke’s, and one thing led to another. It was a complete shock to us both.”

“I’m actually surprised you had waited as long as you did, Dana.”

Bitter Betty, table for one. But it had only been six weeks since she’d been...betrayed. No other word would do.

“Honor, I’m sorry, I really am. I know you wanted Brogan to love you, but it’s not my fault he didn’t.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” Honor said, her face burning.

“Oh, please. She hasn’t heard anything since Clinton was president.” Dana cut her a glance, her face softening. “How many times have you and I talked about just this exact thing? The guy you least expect to fall for and then boom, you’ve fallen. And he happened to fall for me, too. We were just chatting at the bar.” She gave Honor a small, smug smile. “And all of a sudden, there was this charge in the air.”

Dana was gloating. Brogan and she knew each other, of course. Sometimes, the three of them had gone out together. If there’d been any charge in the air, Honor hadn’t noticed.

Dana was quiet for a minute. “I know you had a crush on him since the dawn of time.”

“It was more than a crush, Dana. Don’t minimize my feelings to make yourself feel less guilty.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” she said, turning back to Mrs. Jenkins, her scissors flying in a sinister hiss. She got paid sixty-five dollars a haircut, Honor knew. Sixty-five bucks for taking a millimeter off someone’s hair. “Look, I know you were surprised. But I still think you owe me an apology.”

The noise that came out of Honor’s mouth was somewhere between a sputter, a choke and a laugh. “An apology?”

“Just a little trim around the ears,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Not too short, dear.”

“Got it, Mrs. Jenkins,” Dana barked. “Not too short.” Her voice lowered, and she looked at Honor. “Yeah, an apology. I don’t appreciate having wine thrown in my face, not to mention being shoved in a restaurant in front of the guy I love.”

Honor’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Listen. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but does that mean that both Brogan and I are supposed to ignore what we feel for each other?” Her words might’ve had more impact if her tone hadn’t been as sharp as her scissors. The horrible, beautiful engagement ring flashed as her hands moved over Mrs. Jenkins’s head. “Seriously, we didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Oh, that infuriating phrase! Nothing just happened. Vaginas didn’t just happen to fall on penises. Unspoken words bubbled up like lava. Do I look that stupid? You were supposed to be my friend. You made me a martini that night. I cried on your couch! We watched Shark Week! And a few weeks later, you were sleeping with the guy who broke my heart. For crying out loud, you told me in a bar. Two against one, in a bar.

Yes, she could say those things, and denigrate her pride even further. Remind Dana just how pathetic she’d been...and give Dana more chance to gloat. Because wasn’t that what she was doing?

“I guess we have different ideas of what it means to be friends,” she said tightly.

“Yeah. Friends don’t throw wine in their friends’ faces.”

“Fine. I was very surprised, and I reacted badly. But I seem to remember you reacting just as badly in return.”

“Someone throws wine into my face, yeah, I do react badly.” She gave Honor a little smile. “So. Are we good?”

In the mirror, Honor saw her own mouth fall open. She closed it. “I don’t know that we’re ever going to be good, Dana.”

“Why? Water under the bridge, right? It was dramatic, you feel embarrassed, so do I, a little.” She shrugged, still smiling. “Let’s get past it. I mean, what else are we gonna do? Hate each other forever? Okay. I have to put this hearing aid back in or the old bag will start to suspect something.” Unexpectedly, she gave Honor a quick hug. “I’m glad we talked. I mean, yeah, things’ll be weird for a while, but we’re still best friends, right? And hell’s bells, girl, I have a wedding to plan!”

“Oh, I love weddings,” Mrs. Jenkins said, adjusting her hearing aid.

“Come by the salon, and I’ll shape up your bangs,” Dana said. “See you soon!”

And, because she didn’t know what else to say, and really, really wanted to get out of there, Honor left.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d25091da-2bed-5c87-a708-fb0f2a4ac6be)

HAVING TWO GLASSES of whiskey probably wasn’t the most brilliant idea before a fix-up, Tom thought. But he wasn’t driving. And also, though he hated to point out the obvious, even to himself, it was too late. One could not undrink whiskey, unless one vomited, which Tom was not going to do.

“Off to meet the future Mrs. Barlow,” he told his reflection. “Excited, mate?”

This did not have a good feeling to it. First of all, the whole criminal aspect of the night cast a bit of a pall, didn’t it? And secondly, his great-aunt was fixing him up. He still had a tiny shred of pride left after Melissa, but this would probably kill it. But for whatever reason, when Candace had called, clucking in excitement, he’d said he’d love to meet her pen pal’s granddaughter.

He walked the three blocks to the town green. There was another thing. If he did manage to stay in this godforsaken town, he’d have to stay in this godforsaken town, and bloody hell! The weather! Made England look like paradise, and that was saying a lot.

But Charlie was here. Not that the boy wanted Tom around. Yesterday, Tom had gone the tried and true route and attempted to bribe his way into Charlie’s affection with an iPhone. When Tom tried to show him a few of the new features, the boy went limp with disgust, rolled his eyes and then stared straight ahead, arms crossed, silently counting the seconds till Tom left.

So marrying just to stay here...it felt a bit like buying a house on Isle of the Damned. Not that he’d actually do it. But for some reason, here he was, trudging through the slush to meet some middle-aged woman Aunt Candy had said could keep her mouth shut. Someone who was desperate enough to consider marrying a stranger. Someone whose “clock is ticking.” Fantastic. He could only imagine what she looked like. Dame Judi Dench came to mind. Talented, sure. Did he want to bang Dame Judi Dench? No, he did not.

Then again, he hadn’t done so well on his own, had he? Melissa, though quite the looker, hadn’t turned out to be such a prize.

The warmth of the pub was welcome. At least the little town had this, a little tavern at which to drown one’s sorrows.

“Hello, Colleen,” he said, because yeah, befriending the bartender was never a bad idea.

“Hallo, Tom,” she said in a fair imitation of his accent. “Bass ale tonight?”

“I’ll have a whiskey, love,” he said.

“Not your first, I’m guessing.”

“You’re astute and beautiful. A bit terrifying.”

“You driving?”

“No, miss.” He smiled. She cocked an eyebrow and poured him his drink.

“I’m meeting Honor Holland,” he said. “Do you know her?”