LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Two

      “What’s with the corn dogs?” Candy’s best friend and neighbor, Kelly Foster, asked at six forty-five that night.

      “You think I should’ve made Jake a standing rib roast?”

      From her perch on one of the tall stools lining the burgundy-tiled counter, Kelly made a face. “At least spaghetti and a salad would have been nice. I mean, come on, corn dogs? The guy asked you to marry him again, not scrub his toilets.”

      “True,” Candy said, pulling open the oven door and sliding in the tray of dogs. “And, hey, at least this time around he’s loaded. He can afford a dozen housekeepers to do all the dirty work. Think they clean up broken hearts?”

      For a brief second, she squeezed her eyes shut while forcing back tears. Sarcasm wasn’t like her, which proved that the sooner Jake returned to Florida, the better off her mood—not to mention, life—would be. “Sorry to be so testy,” Candy said. “It’s just that where Jake Peterson is concerned, one marriage was way more than enough.”

      Kelly rolled her eyes. “From your first bizarre date spent picnicking on the Lonesome High football field, you two were made for each other. Everyone knows it. Why do you think Jake never married again?”

      “How should I know? We haven’t exactly stayed close. And for your information, our first date wasn’t bizarre, it was romantic.” Candy threw extra force into whacking a freezer-burned bag of French fries against the butcher-block cutting board.

      “Eww,” Kelly said. “How old are those?”

      “Judging by the ice pack’s density, I’d make a conservative guess that I bought them around the time I broke up with Chad. Remember that grease phase I went through?” Candy shuddered. “My skin breaks out just thinking about it. At least one good thing is coming out of this dinner.”

      “What’s that?”

      “I’m cleaning out the freezer.”

      Grinning, Kelly shook her pretty blond head. “You’re hopeless. Back to the subject of Jake, what do you think he’s up to?”

      “You mean, besides no good? Ba-bum ching.” While tapping the high hat on her imaginary drums, Candy flashed her friend a smile.

      “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

      Reaching into the fridge for mustard and ketchup, Candy said, “I wasn’t trying to.”

      “You’re scared to death, aren’t you?”

      “About what? This is just dinner. I do it every night of the week, every week of the year—except during our annual cruise, and then I do it two times a night. Ba-bum ching.” Using the ketchup bottle as a microphone, she said in a deep Elvis voice, “Thank you, thank you very much. You can catch my act nightly at the Lonesome Lounge.”

      “This is bad. Very bad.” Leaning her right elbow on the counter, Kelly cupped her chin in her hand. Tapping her cheek with her index finger, she said, “I haven’t seen you this un-funny since the night you heard Jake was leaving for Florida.”

      “What are you talking about?” Candy said, filling two glasses with iced tea. “We celebrated that night. Remember? I sprung for all of us girls to eat the Holiday Motel’s seafood buffet. It was a lot of fun.”

      “Of course, how could I forget a thrill-a-minute evening of culinary delights like crab-flavored chicken wings—not to mention the fact that you must’ve told enough cornball jokes to keep Laffy Taffy in business for the next hundred years. Come on,” Kelly said with a sigh. “It’s me you’re talking to. You can tell me how you really feel.”

      “How many times do I have to say this,” Candy said, putting the mustard and ketchup in the dishwasher. “I feel fine. I’m not the least bit upset about Jake being back in town.” One by one, she started to unload mugs from the top rack and slide them onto the brass hooks beneath the cabinets.

      “Is it because you’re on such an emotional high that you’ve decided to unload the dishes before even washing them?”

      Candy gazed at the assorted dribbles of coffee, tea, and cocoa pooling on the counter. “Crap.”

      “What was that? Miss Sunshine isn’t actually a tad on edge is she?”

      “No,” Candy all but growled.

      “Good, then when you finish reloading all those dirty mugs, you might want to unload the ketchup and mustard.”

      A squeal of pure panic escaped Candy’s lips. “Oh, God. I am a wreck, aren’t I? Kelly, you’ve got to stay through dinner. What am I going to do? Say? I can’t be alone with him. You know what just looking at Jake does to me. I mean, I despise him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still think he’s the hottest guy on the planet. I mean, you should’ve seen him at the store today, his hair all mussed and that disgustingly handsome chiseled jawline of his all freshly shaven and tanned. And his bod—don’t even get me started on what ten years have done for the man’s physique.” When Candy’s shoulders slumped, her best friend hopped off her stool to enfold her in a hug.

      “Trust me,” Kelly said, “you’re going to be fine. You two were high school sweethearts. You’ve known each other forever. Maybe, just maybe,” she said, brushing away one of Candy’s tears, “he misses you, and that proposal was more real than you think.”

      “Fat chance,” Candy said through one last sniffle. “Even if I wanted to get back together with him—which I don’t—you weren’t here the morning he came home to pick up the last of his stuff. I handed him the shoe box he kept my love letters in, but he told me to keep it, Kel. He told me he didn’t want a single thing in his new life to remind him of me. After that, he walked out. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

      “Thanks,” Kelly said, using a paper towel to blot at her own tears. “Now you’ve got me all choked up, too—and I’m supposed to be the strong one.” She pulled Candy into a fierce hug.

      “Please stay for dinner,” Candy whined. “I’ll make you a steak—oh, and those twice-baked potatoes you love.” A sharp metallic noise called her gaze to the window. “Oh, no, was that a car door?”

      “See ya,” Kelly said, pulling back with a wave of her paper hanky.

      “What about your steak? You love my steaks.”

      Kelly blew her a kiss on her way out the back door. “I also love you, which is why I think it’d be best for you to handle this one on your own. Besides which, not only do I have a watercolor class tonight, but I happen to know for a fact you have nothing in that fridge of yours besides moldy cheese and three-year-old pickles. ’Bye.”

      “Deserter,” Candy mumbled, watching her only link to sanity fairly skip across the backyard.

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