“Sorry to intrude on your dinner, but I wanted to say a quick hello,” Spencer says, looking between me and Jordy.

  “Well, I’m glad you did. This is my friend, Jordy.” I gesture to my companion, noting the way her eyebrows wing up at the word ‘friend’. “Jordy, this is Spencer. He’s…we met…he’s friends with Fergus. He works with the MacKinnon Group too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jordy.” Spencer offers her a closed fist. I nearly lose my mind at the sight, although Jordy doesn’t miss a beat before tapping her knuckles against his. Did I fall through some strange space/time continuum and not realize it?

  “You too,” Jordy says. Then to me, she adds, “Do all your guy friends have accents?”

  “No, just these two,” I say with a laugh. “Well, Fergus’s cousin-slash-boss, Hugh MacKinnon, has a Scottish accent too, but we’re more business acquaintances than friends.”

  Jordy eyes Spencer. “Fergus wrote the center a big fat check today on behalf of the MacKinnon Group, and we’ve spent the last couple hours spending some of it.”

  “Jordy!” I drop my forehead into my open palm, unable to contain my laughter. At the sound of Spencer’s soft chuckle, I straighten. He’s looking between the two of us, his eyes dancing with amusement. “We were buying toys and clothes for the Holiday Sharing Program at the center,” I clarify.

  “I figured it was something like that,” he assures me. “So is that how you two know each other? From the center?”

  “I’m Hollie’s little gopher,” Jordy says, her face the picture of innocence. “I do all kinds of things for her at the center. Whatever she asks me to do, I do it.”

  I huff, wishing she was in close enough range for me to kick her under the table. “If I ask you to be quiet and stop making me look bad, could you do that?”

  Jordy’s giggle is borderline evil as she waves me off. “Oh please, Spencer knows I’m kidding. I’m sure he also knows you’d be a good, fair boss.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Spencer says. I wait for him to excuse himself and leave, but he lingers. Jordy gives me a pointed look before pulling the food court tray toward herself and collecting our garbage.

  “Can I treat you ladies to dessert?” Spencer asks suddenly.

  “Oh, I…that’s not necessary,” I say. “Thanks, though.” The tray makes a scraping sound on the table and I glance at Jordy to see her giving me a look that practically screams ‘excuse you, I want dessert’.

  Spencer nods. “I should move along then, I don’t want to intrude…”

  “You’re not intruding,” Jordy blurts. “Right, Hollie?” She widens her eyes at me and jerks her head in Spencer’s direction.

  “Right, no, it’s not that. I was just thinking of the giant cinnamon roll I ate earlier and the burger and onion rings I just scarfed down. But…I think I can make room for dessert. You, Jord?”

  Jordy’s expression eases into a satisfied smile. “I always have room for dessert.”

  *****

  “The mall will be closing in thirty minutes. Please complete your purchases and make your way toward the nearest exit. Thank you for shopping at Bellevue Mall.”

  As the announcement rings through the food court for a second time, I glance across the table at Jordy, then at Spencer, who’s sitting beside me. Most of the places in the food court had closed by the time we agreed on what we wanted, but Spencer managed to charm the guy at the ice cream place into staying open a few more minutes to dish out three desserts.

  “I guess that’s our cue.” Spencer wipes his mouth with a paper napkin, swiping away the tiny dot of chocolate sauce that was stuck to his lip. A dot I absolutely did not imagine licking off because a friend obviously wouldn’t do that…and because there’s a teenager watching us like a hawk. A nosy hawk who’s desperate for a crumb of intrigue or gossip.

  Jordy heads off to the food court’s trash receptacles while Spencer and I make our way toward the exit. Jordy ate at a sloth’s pace again, so by the time she was finished, we were all deep in conversation and time flew by without any of us seeming to notice.

  As we sat together at that small table, I tried hard not to stare at Spencer. Even though he’s dressed more casually today, in dark jeans and a forest green pullover, he still looks more put together than almost anyone I know. Put together and ridiculously handsome. It was an effort to keep my grin reined in when it wanted to burst free every time I glanced in Spencer’s direction or he opened his mouth to speak.

  What are the odds we’d see each other again this soon? When he spotted us in the food court, he could have kept walking, and I might not even have noticed him. I’m trying not to overthink what that means, knowing it might not mean anything at all other than Spencer is polite.

  “Keys,” Jordy says, appearing beside me and holding her hand out.

  “Did you get a driver’s license and forget to mention it?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to drive, I just want to go sit in the car and give you two a minute to say goodbye.”

  “Oh.” Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. I can’t bring myself to look at Spencer for his reaction.

  “Keys?” Jordy says again, wiggling her fingers.

  I dig them out of my purse and hand them over without a word. Jordy pockets them before holding out her fist to bump with Spencer again. It’s no less funny than it was the first time.

  “Thanks for the ice cream,” she says. “You should come by the center sometime and let Hollie put you to work. I can supervise and then we can all have tea and crumpets or whatever in her office.”

  Spencer chuckles softly. “I’d like that.”

  Jordy darts ahead of us and disappears. Spencer and I continue our meandering pace toward the exit.

  “You don’t have any parcels?” he asks. “You said earlier you were shopping.”

  “They’re already in the car.”

  “Ahh.”

  Silence falls between us as we approach the doors. Without our teenage girl buffer, neither of us seem to know what to say. We never had trouble coming up with things to talk about when we were chatting on LoveLinks. I suppose the difference then was that we were purposely getting to know each other and now we’re…well, I’m not sure what we are.

  I’m scrambling for something—anything—to say when Spencer says, “Jordy said you were shopping for the center? Is that something you do often? I just realized I’m not exactly sure what you do at Belle Vie.”

  A tiny fraction of tension eases from my shoulders. This is good. I can talk about work. In fact, I love talking about work.

  “My job is technically Executive Manager, but I end up doing bits and pieces of everything. Some people think it’s strange when I tell them that, but it’s fun for me because every day brings something different. Some days I’m doing event coordination and fundraising, while other days I might be stocking shelves, handling deliveries, sorting through donations, working with suppliers and corporate donors, or assembling food boxes for delivery.

  “This year I’m heading the Holiday Sharing Program. Families in need fill out a survey letting us know a bit about their family, what their plans for the holidays are, if there are children in the household, stuff like that. Based on their answers, we put together a hamper that includes a special holiday dinner, some general food staples, and a few fun extras to make it feel special, like Christmas crackers, fancy napkins, that sort of thing. Each child enrolled in the program gets age-appropriate gifts; some of them are donated by people in the community, and some are bought with donations specifically allocated to the program.”

  “That’s incredible,” Spencer says. “It sounds like quite the undertaking.”

  “It is. Every year, more and more families sign up. It breaks my heart to know there are so many struggling families in the community, but at the same time, it’s heartening to see the number of people donating and volunteering. Sometimes it feels like it’s never enough, but we do our best.”

  We’ve reached my car now. Jordy is in the passenger seat, listening to music. She turns the volume up when she spots us, shooting me a mischievous grin through the window.

  “Where are you parked?” I ask Spencer, only now noticing my car is one of a few left in this section of the lot.

  Spencer shifts on his feet and jams his hands in his coat pockets. “Oh, I…I’m parked on the other side of the mall.”

  I sputter out a laugh. “The other side of the mall? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He lifts his shoulders, shifting around some more. His cheeks are turning the slightest bit pink, and I have a feeling it’s not only from the nip in the air. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye quite yet.”

  That wasn’t the response I was expecting. I thought maybe he’d say something about it being dark out and he wanted to make sure I got to my car safely, even though the parking lot is well lit and Jordy came out on her own before us. I’m not sure how to take his admission, especially considering the way we left things yesterday at the diner.

  “I suppose I should make my way around the mall,” he says.

  “I could drive you.”

  He lets out another of those soft chuckles. I love that sound, although it makes me wonder what a real laugh from him would sound like.

  “I appreciate the offer, but the fresh air will do me good.” He begins backing away, and I’m seized with an odd sort of panic. He admitted he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and now I can’t stand the thought of him walking away and leaving me wondering if this is it.

  “Will I see you again?” I blurt.

  Spencer pauses. He lowers his head, although not quickly enough for me to miss the almost pained expression that crosses his face. He recovers quickly, giving me a smile that only looks forced for a second before he says, “I’m sure you will. I was invited for tea and crumpets at the center, after all.”

  I want to ask him when he thinks he might take Jordy up on her invitation, but I don’t want to come across as desperate or pushy. He could just be saying that to be nice. I aim for a light tone as I say, “Well, consider it an open invitation. I always have tea on hand, although I likely won’t ever have crumpets because I’ve never had them in my life. I expect Jordy hasn’t either, she probably just heard ‘tea and crumpets’ somewhere and ran with it. I always have some sort of treat hidden in my desk, though.”

  Spencer’s lips twitch. “Good to know.” He resumes backing away. Part of me wants it to be his resistance to say goodbye. The other part of me is afraid he’s literally putting distance between us and waiting until it’s socially acceptable to turn and bolt. “Good night, Hollie. I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Night, Spencer.” I open the car door and get inside so I don’t have to see the moment he turns away. Jordy lowers the volume of the music, then leans across me to wave as I close the door and start the car. By the time I pull out of my parking spot, Spencer is striding across the lot, hands jammed once more in the pockets of his coat.

  “So?” Jordy says expectantly. “Did he ask you out?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you ask him out?”

  “Nope,” I repeat. She makes a quiet sound of disgust, and I know even without looking at her that she’s rolling her eyes. I don’t give her a chance to voice her opinion. “It’s not like that. We’re friends. Not even that, really, more like friendly.”

  “Huh. Interesting.” When I shoot her a questioning glance, she gives a casual shrug. “It’s just that from where I was sitting, it looked like both of you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.”

  If Jordy were one of my girlfriends, I’d quiz her for details. How did Spencer look at me? Why does she think he might be interested in me? None of that matters, though. Even if Spencer was interested, he’s clearly not going to act on it. Besides, he wasn’t wrong yesterday when he said we both have a lot going on and it’s not the right time.

  “Wait, don’t say it,” Jordy says, sparing me from having to come up with a response. “It’s complicated, right? That’s what adults always say.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Something like that.”

  She huffs, waving a dismissive hand as she leans in to turn the music up again. I think she’s annoyed with me as she skips through songs until the opening chords of “Take a Chance on Me” by ABBA start and she doesn’t skip it. I dart my gaze in her direction, and she smiles.

  “Thanks for today, Hollie.”

  Her sincerity tugs at my heartstrings and melts away the remaining tension in my body. “Anytime, Jordy.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  That week, we have to move our weekly breakfast meet-up to Friday because Stella and Leland are going away for the weekend. I stumble into B&H just after seven o’clock, hair still slightly damp from the chilly wake-up shower I took, and right eye stinging from where I stabbed it with the mascara brush. I don’t typically start work until nine, so I’m usually still in bed at this time.

  As the scent of coffee hits my nose, I remind myself the early morning will be worth it. Evie, Stella, Louisa, and I used to meet for breakfast nearly every Saturday or Sunday morning before Stella got married and moved to Toronto. We resurrected the tradition a few months ago after Stella moved back to Bellevue. As our group has expanded, first with Wesley, then Leland, and occasionally Fergus, the four of us agreed to meet early for coffee on the days the guys were joining us so we could catch up. I’ve loved each new addition to our group and I’m thrilled for Evie and Stella, but that time with just the four of us feels sacred somehow. I don’t know many people who have maintained a friendship for as long as we have.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Bea calls to me from across the room where she’s stringing colorful lights around the kitchen pass-through window. With Christmas being a month from today, it’s officially holiday season according to Bea, and the diner will likely be decorated to within an inch of its life by tonight.

  “Morning.” My voice comes out sounding like a croak. A titter draws my attention to the two thirty-something women in the corner wearing running clothes and sipping on green smoothies, one of Horatio’s newest menu offerings to ‘keep up with the times’. I’ve seen them in the diner and jogging around the neighborhood, and have even spoken to them a few times. At their friendly grins, I give them a bashful shrug and smile combo in return. It won’t be light for another half hour, yet they’ve already done their morning run and are onto their ultra-healthy breakfast. I’m proud of myself for making it here fully dressed by seven, and I’m going to gobble a plate of Horatio’s delicious scrambled eggs, home fries, and turkey bacon. We all make our choices.

  “Go sit with Lulu and I’ll bring you some coffee,” Bea says.

  Louisa is almost always the first one here, no matter what time we meet. Her dad drilled things like punctuality and good manners into her at a young age; he was always strict, but he kicked it up about a thousand notches after Louisa’s mother died. Mrs. and Mr. Henshaw were a classic case of opposites attracting; she was free spirited and fun loving, while he was uptight, gruff, and an avid rule follower. They loved each other, though, and Louisa had a happy childhood until her mom got sick and died when we were fourteen. Her death changed Louisa and Mr. Henshaw, which is to be expected. He became even more authoritarian, afraid Louisa would get hurt or become ill, and Louisa withdrew and became timid, anxious, and even shyer than she was before.

  “You’re staring at me,” Louisa says, shaking me from my thoughts. Without realizing it, I’ve crossed the room and I’m standing next to where she’s sitting.

  “Sorry. And good morning.” I swoop down to kiss her cheek before dropping into the seat across from her. “Half asleep and lost in thought.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  Louisa and I talk about absolutely everything, but we tend to avoid the subject of our families. Our circumstances were very different—her mom died, while mine left, and we were both raised by our dads after that—but we both understand loss and spending our teen years in less-than-desirable circumstances.

  “I was thinking about…about our parents,” I say, deciding there’s no use lying or avoiding the subject. Not with Louisa, not even if it’d be easier. “I stayed up too late last night going over my investments, trying to see how much I could free up to make a bigger donation than usual to the center before the holidays. You know how I get whenever I look at that money.”

  Louisa makes a soft, sympathetic sound and lays her hand over mine where it rests on the table. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Not much.” I ease my hand from under hers and sit back as Bea approaches. She seems to sense the somber mood because she doesn’t say anything as she pours my coffee. When she’s gone, I’m glad to have the distraction of adding milk and sugar to my drink so I don’t have to look at Louisa as I continue.

  “You’d think after all these years and all the therapy I’ve had, it wouldn’t be a trigger anymore, but it is. Nowhere near as bad as it used to be, but I had trouble falling asleep, and then I dreamed about my mom most of the night. Nothing bad, just kind of…chaotic.”

  My mom left shortly after I turned fifteen. She and Louisa’s mom had been close, and the death of her friend so shortly after her own mother’s death hit her hard. Six months after Mrs. Henshaw died, my mom sat me down one night and told me she was going away for a while and I wouldn’t be able to reach her. I was angry and confused; I needed her more than ever after everything we’d all just been through. I stayed up most of that night, trying to come up with a plan to get her to stay, but she was already gone the next morning when I woke up.

  The first time I heard from her was months later when I turned sixteen and she sent me a combination birthday/Christmas card. There was no return address on the envelope, but there was a check for five hundred dollars inside. I couldn’t afford to be stubborn and not cash it since by that time, my dad had lost his job due to his drinking, and we were living assistance check to assistance check and depending on the food bank.