7. Neesha #2
“I can do that,” I say, feeling a tiny twinge of hope that this could be the break I need.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Mabel says. “You’ll agree to stay in the area for the next two years.”
“Oh.” My voice falls flat.
She frowns. “What?”
“I don’t want to open my business in Maple Falls. Seattle is where the money is.”
Fiona and Mabel give each other a look. “Believe me, the city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Fiona says. “There’s way more competition and everything is outrageously expensive.” She glances around the shop with a wistful smile. “Besides, I think Maple Falls is adorable.”
I hold up the grant application. “Even if I were planning on staying in Maple Falls, I probably wouldn’t win this. People don’t take cupcakes seriously.”
“What?” Mabel cries. “How can anyone hate a sugary treat decorated in unicorn colors? I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”
I stare at the paper. “Two years, though?” I shake my head.
“It’s too much of a commitment. What if years from now I’m still struggling to make rent, just like now?
At least in Seattle, if things don’t work out, I can get a job at an established bakery.
Here, if my business fails, everyone will know.
Mrs. Nelson, Mary-Ellen, everyone at book club—they’ll all see me as the girl who couldn’t make it work in her own hometown. ”
I take in a quick breath. “Plus, this town holds too many memories of Mom.” Every corner reminds me of something we did together, somewhere we went. In Seattle, I could start fresh, build something new without constantly feeling her absence.
I push the application further away. “Thanks anyway, but staying here would just keep me stuck in the past.”
Mabel lifts an eyebrow and it reminds me exactly where she gets her stubbornness—Mary-Ellen didn’t raise a quitter.
“Well, this conversation isn’t over. I’m leaving this on the bulletin board where you’ll see it every single day.
” She waves the paper. “And I’m going to keep bringing it up until you consider it. ”
“I won’t,” I answer flatly.
“You’re still coming to girls’ night on Thursday, right? Or will I have to kidnap you from your apartment?” Mabel asks over her shoulder as she pins the grant form on the community bulletin board.
“I’ll be there,” I groan.
“Good,” Fiona says. “A girls’ night is exactly what we all need. Well, that and a date too…”
“I don’t need a date,” I say. “I’m perfectly happy in my relationship with Netflix and my puppy. For the record, no one cuddles like Henry.”
Mabel tilts her head to the side like she’s about to launch into a lecture.
“Neesha, Henry is adorable, but he can’t take you to dinner or tell you you’re beautiful.
Well, he could try, but it would just be barking.
You deserve to have some fun with a man who has opposable thumbs and can actually respond when you talk to him. ”
I roll my eyes and lean against the counter. “Well, speaking of ridiculous dating advice, Emmy just suggested I try a practice date first. Isn’t that absurd? Like I’m out of practice, or something.” I dismiss it with a wave of my hand.
Fiona and Mabel give me a look that suggests I might actually be out of practice.
Mabel winces a little, her expression caught between sympathy and honesty. “I mean, six months is kind of a long time,” she says, trying to soften the blow.
I scoff. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten how to talk to the male species. I talk to men at the cafe every day.”
“You know that’s not actually the same thing,” Fiona says, with a concerned look. “When’s the last time you actually talked with someone on a date?”
My brain immediately goes blank. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
Do dating apps even count as flirting? Because swiping right doesn’t exactly require advanced social skills.
“See?” Mabel says. “You can’t even remember.”
“I’m just having a memory lapse,” I protest, even though I’m definitely not remembering a single conversation that might have even hinted at flirting.
What if I’ve lost whatever mysterious ability I once had to make a man interested? What if I’m now permanently stuck in coffee-shop-customer-service mode and can never escape?
“Then prove it,” Mabel says, crossing her arms. “I dare you to be extra friendly to the next guy who walks through that door.”
“What if he’s ninety and can barely walk?” I ask.
“Then you’ll make his whole week.” Fiona grins.
“Come on, you remember how to turn on the charm, right?” Mabel asks.
My palms are suddenly sweaty because I honestly don’t know if I remember how to do this. Like, do I need to smile a certain way? Slip innuendo into the conversation? The only double entendres I make are completely accidental. That won’t be helpful.
“Okay, I accept your challenge,” I say, wiping my hands on my apron. “But if I do this, you’ll stop pressuring me to get back into dating, right? No matchmaking schemes and no more ‘helpful’ advice.”
“Sure,” Mabel says. “One demonstration of your skills, and we’ll back off.”
I’m already regretting this decision. “If this goes horribly wrong and I embarrass myself in front of some poor, unsuspecting customer, I’m blaming both of you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to channel some inner confidence I’m not sure exists anymore. How hard can it be, right? Smile, make eye contact, maybe throw in a compliment and a comment about the weather. You know, basic human interaction.
A gust of wind sweeps up the leaves outside the bookshop as the bells on the door jingle, letting me know my next opportunity to prove myself has arrived. I straighten my shoulders and turn toward the door with newfound determination to prove to my friends I’m not out of practice.
In walks the only man in all of Maple Falls who could possibly make this challenge both impossible and utterly mortifying.
Oh, and did I forget to mention he’s my new neighbor?