Coming Home To You

It took effort but Daphne opened another window and typed what Fran suggested. A sunset picture of the lake, an old coupon special for a lakeside restaurant called Smooth Sailing, an XOX Valentines event at the library for women only. Women only? What was the point of that? She resorted to ad-libbing. “The ice-cream shop seems to be the best bet. There are many flavors for us to work through. The combinations are endless. Especially if you get a double scoop. Then you have to not only decide on the flavors but which one goes on top. Never mind the sprink—”

“Fine. Off you go. How come he never picks you up?”

Precisely the complication she’d discussed with Mel at the outset of their charade, but she hated to put him through the dress-up routine already. Perhaps she could talk him into dining with her as a reward. He certainly liked his food, and she could more easily fake a relationship in front of Fran if she could report on events that actually transpired.

“He probably doesn’t want to deal with you.” Daphne shed her laptop and books and papers and pens from her lap like a spinster with cats. This phantom dating was a royal nuisance. Just as she was getting somewhere with her book. Perhaps there was a work-around. She said, “Mel wants to know what I’m working on, so I’ll bring the laptop.”

“Honestly, Daphne,” Fran said, tightening her silk shawl about her. Feeling cold, too, was new. “He’s just saying that to be polite. Surely, you can think of something better to do.”

Daphne raised her eyebrows as high as they could go. “I’m sure I can.” She shoved the cords into the bag’s side pockets and settled its strap on her shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”