A Match Made on Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  Her marriage was over. Not just in her head. Not just on paper. Everyone else had accepted it. It was about time she did too.

  “Psst!”

  Jane startled, grateful for a reason to pull herself from darkening thoughts, and turned to see Rosemary standing at the base of the stairs.

  “I was hoping to steal you away for a few minutes,” she said, hoisting her long black taffeta skirt as she began to ascend the stairs. “I have to reapply my lipstick. Come with me.”

  Jane didn’t bother mentioning that Rosemary was wearing enough lipstick to last her through the night and straight through to morning, and instead took relief in the company and the excuse to slip upstairs for a few stolen minutes. She brought Rosemary into her old bedroom, relaxing at the sight of the purple canopy and ruffled curtains—Kathleen may have transformed the lower level of the home into a design showcase, but the upstairs remained firmly rooted in the past, and Jane was grateful for that.

  Unlike her current house, this was a room she had never shared with Adam. It wasn’t full of his ghosts, tainted by his memories. It was just hers.

  She sat down on the floral bedspread while Rosemary fished through her beaded evening bag, finally finding her lipstick. “Now, Jane, I know you weren’t very pleased with me about the last date I set you up on, but I do hope you’ll let me try again.”

  Jane let out a weary sigh. “Oh, Rosemary. I think I’m stepping back from the dating world for now.”

  “But you can’t!” Rosemary’s blue eyes were wide with panic, but she composed herself when she met Jane’s shocked expression in the mirror. She busied herself by plucking the silver cap off her tube of lipstick and turning the bottom until the signature red emerged from the top. “The thing is, Jane, if you don’t let me set you up, then Anna will have no reason to let me help her.”

  Jane tipped her head. “I thought you were setting her up with someone tomorrow night.”

  Rosemary stopped applying her lipstick, doing a poor job of hiding her smile. “Oh, I am, yes.” She glanced at her reflection from a few more angles and then popped the cap back on the tube. Turning, she leaned back on the dresser and fixed Jane with a look. “After tomorrow night, I’m afraid Anna might not agree to be set up again.”

  Jane wasn’t following. “You made it sound like you knew just the man for Anna.”

  “Oh I do.” Rosemary gave a mysterious smile. “I absolutely do. It just might take some… convincing, though.”

  Jane considered this. Knowing Anna, Rosemary had a point. “I really don’t want to go on any more dates,” she sighed, shaking her head.

  Rosemary pressed her mouth together in overt disappointment. “Just one more date, Jane. It doesn’t have to be right away. If Anna knows I’m still fixing you up, then as part of our bargain, she has to let me help set her up, too.”

  Jane groaned, but the pleading look in Rosemary’s expression made her pause. “You really want to match Anna.”

  “I do.” Rosemary folded her hands in front of her. “I wouldn’t insist if I didn’t have a… vested interest.”

  “Fine,” Jane said on a breath.

  “Thank you, my dear. I promise you won’t regret this. And you never know,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “You might just fall in love with the next guy I set you up with.”

  “Ha.” Based on her track record, she wouldn’t count on it. Jane flicked off the light switch and led Rosemary back down the hall, trying to muster up more enthusiasm for the party going on below. It wouldn’t be fair of her to let her own feelings shine through tonight. This was Grace’s night. Eventually it might be Anna’s night. At some point, Jane had to make peace with being alone.

  She’d had her time, her moment in that white dress with the flowers and the smiles. Her sisters had been at her side then. Now it was her turn to do the same for them.

  And it started with continuing on with this silly matchmaking scheme. Who knew, maybe Rosemary was right. Maybe she would fall in love with the next guy she went on a date with—and maybe, if Rosemary was right about her hunch, Anna would, too.

  CHAPTER

  18

  What the heck was Rosemary thinking?

  Anna replayed that thought over and over and over. It started with the moment she first came face-to-face with the fair-haired and slightly hunchbacked Simon, who greeted her with earnest eyes and a smile that made the room stop. She tried not to let her gaze linger on the retainer, even when he pulled it free of his teeth and set it on a bread plate right next to his water glass. She told herself Rosemary must have had a reason for choosing Simon specifically; after all, he had made his feelings for Anna known over the years, and he stopped in to the café five mornings a week, making sure to linger near the counter, grinning slyly as he slowly stirred creamer into his to-go cup.

  Despite his overt interest in her, they had nothing in common, but even this didn’t seem to deter his pursuit. She’d tried to hide her shock when he handed her the sad bouquet of red carnations and then escorted her proudly to her chair, right in the center of Piccolino’s, for all of Briar Creek to see. She kept the conversation neutral, purposefully chatting about old classmates and school memories, but as he began listing his food allergies, then informed her he was a strict vegan and politely asked her if she planned to go to a real college someday, Anna decided that Rosemary had officially lost her marbles.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  What was this? An interview? “Oh, running Fireside, I suppose.” She didn’t mention that she saw it doubled in size, with a full dinner service seven nights a week, and a handful of sous chefs helping her in the kitchen. The image brought a faint smile to her lips, despite how disastrously the evening was going, or how lonely the prospect of her future was if she stopped to think about it.

  “What about kids?” Simon pressed, and Anna nearly choked on her water.

  She set the glass down. This was getting a little too personal for a first date, but seeing that Simon had known her forever and had asked her to dance at every school event since the fifth grade, she couldn’t exactly say they were strangers.

  “What about them?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Do you want to have children?”

  Anna froze. “No,” she said simply.

  Simon paused for a moment. “No?”

  “That’s right. No.” She reached for her water glass again, noticing the way her hand shook. She couldn’t expect him to understand, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him her reasoning. She’d had her child and now it was gone. Nothing could bring her baby back; nothing would ever replace it. The thought of having another… it was too much. It wouldn’t bring back what she had lost. And it wouldn’t be Mark’s. She would have no way of knowing what their baby might have looked like, and no amount of searching the face of another child would make that image any clearer than it was now.

  She had nothing to hold on to. Not even a picture. But she wasn’t ready to let go.

  She scooped the rest of her tiramisu from its dish. It was a sloppy effort, lacking richness of flavor. Frank should have added a bit more mascarpone, and she questioned the strength of the espresso he’d used to soak the ladyfingers, but she wouldn’t be saying anything. She’d worked for Frank Piccolino her first summer out of culinary school, and she could still recall with vivid clarity his reaction after she’d merely suggested they add more cream to the vodka sauce. Frank had an ego; he considered himself the best chef in town.

  She hoped to kick his butt in the contest.

  “I should probably get going, Simon,” she said, breaking the silence. “I have more work to do tonight.”

  He nodded, and after settling the bill, they walked to the car in silence. Maybe I’ve officially turned him away, she considered, but the thought did little to perk her up. Most men would want children, a family, a future. There really was no hope for her.

  But now, as Simon’s lips curled and a flash of his
metal retainer reflected off the parking lot lamp, Anna felt the first true prickle of panic.

  God help her, he was going to try to kiss her.

  She inched closer to the car, forcing a tight smile. “I really need to get to bed. Four o’clock rolls around pretty quickly!”

  “I thought you said you had to work tonight,” Simon said.

  Anna gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, did I? See? I’m so tired I nearly forgot. Chef’s hours and all that.”

  “It’s Saturday night,” Simon insisted. “Why don’t we take a stroll through the town square?”

  Anna darted her eyes to the left, where the dimly lit gazebo sat in the center of the park. On the other side of the square, she could see the darkened storefront of Fireside, and a few blocks to the north, the faint glow of lights at Hastings farther up Main Street. Mark was probably with Nicole Johnson right this very moment, doing God knows what with her, while she was standing in the parking lot of Piccolino’s with the local pharmacist, who happened to have had a crush on her since she was in the second grade.

  Oh, Rosemary.

  “I’ll see you around, Simon.” She flashed him an easy grin, and quickly unlocked the car. “Thanks again for dinner. It was fun catching up!”

  Simon’s frown deepened, and she scrambled into the car before he got any notions. “Maybe we can try it again sometime,” he called out.

  “Maybe,” she said, waving.

  She pulled out of the parking lot. Honestly, what had Rosemary been thinking? Simon had asked her out a dozen times in high school, and she’d had to turn him down every time, lest she lead him on. Now she feared she’d done just that.

  Anna tutted under her breath as she rounded the town square, slowing her pace as she crept down Main Street, which was dark and quiet at this time of night aside from the pub at the end of the strip.

  She stopped the car at the corner of Second Avenue and unlocked her seat belt. The glow of the lampposts lit the new large paned window at the front of the café, hidden behind scaffolding. She rounded the building slowly, peering through the windows and into the darkness, trying to see inside. Progress was being made; that was something. The new front window looked exactly like the old. That was reassuring. She worried about her kitchen, though. Even though it would be just as functional, if not more so than the original, she liked the comfort of her ways. She knew which drawers stuck and how to set the timer on the ovens without even looking at the screen. She could move swiftly through the room without even stopping for consideration.

  Change was good, she reminded herself. Some change.

  A rustling caught her attention and she turned, jumping at what she saw.

  “Mark.” She gasped when she saw him sitting on the bench at the corner of the sidewalk. He was in the shadows, under the shade of a big oak tree that lined the street, and even in the dusk she could see the lines in his face, the fatigue in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and speared her with a look that caused her breath to catch. After everything they had been through and all that he had done to her, her body still reacted to him all on its own.

  “I was just thinking,” he finally said. He heaved a sigh that rolled through his broad shoulders and paused, tenting his fingers. “Just thinking about… Tavern on Main. My dad’s place.”

  She nodded slowly, not quite knowing what to say. He rarely opened up about his father, and she’d gathered it was not something he wanted to discuss. It was a sensitive subject, Anna understood, even if a little part of her wished he had felt he could confide in her.

  There was a long pause. “Well, I was going to check on the progress in the kitchen.” Jingling her keys, she stepped toward the tarp covering the door, but Mark straightened with sudden interest.

  He leaned back against the bench. “I thought you had a date tonight.”

  Oh, that. Anna mentally rolled her eyes when she thought of the glee he’d take in learning that Simon had finally gotten his way after all these years.

  “I did,” she said breezily, shifting under the heat of his gaze. She wished he would stop looking at her like that. Like he was enjoying this. Like he saw right through her. Like he knew things hadn’t gone well. Or as planned.

  When did they ever?

  His eyebrow cocked. “Over so soon?”

  She hadn’t even looked at her watch, but something told her it was barely eight thirty. Any chance she had of passing her so-called date off as a success would be in vain.

  “I have a lot going on right now, and I have to be up at four o’clock.”

  Mark nodded slowly, doing a poor job of suppressing his grin. “Who was he?”

  “Oh…” She could hardly say he was no one Mark knew. It wasn’t true, and in a town this small, he was bound to find out. “It was just… Simon.”

  Mark hooted in laughter, clapping his hands together with boyish glee, while Anna felt her anger stir.

  “How’s that for an obvious selection?” Mark continued. “And here I thought Aunt Rosemary was going to hand select you some mysterious stranger.”

  That makes two of us, Anna thought bitterly. “Well, now you know.”

  Mark spread his arms wide on the back of the bench and grinned. “Where’d he take you? Piccolino’s?” He caught her eye and chuckled. “Of course.”

  “It was informative, actually,” she said, edging closer. “I made a point of stopping in to see Frank.” As an excuse to break away from the table for ten minutes, but Mark didn’t need to know that part. “He’s entering the contest, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about there.”

  “We have a fair shot at this,” Mark replied. “I wouldn’t have partnered with you if I didn’t think so.”

  She stiffened. Of course that’s why he wanted to partner with her. Because she was a sure bet. Not because… Nonsense.

  Motioning to her car, she said, “I should get home. I have to get to the kitchen early tomorrow, and later I’m meeting with your mom to go through some more of the plans with the contractor.” She started to go but his voice stopped her.

  “Do you ever wonder…” He paused, shoving his hands into the pockets of his chinos as he stood. “Do you ever think about how things might have been if we’d opened that place we always talked about?”

  Her throat locked up as she held his gaze, feeling in that moment like he could see straight through to her soul, unlock every private thought she’d ever experienced, every tear she’d ever shed. There was no point in denying the truth.

  “Sometimes.”

  If he’d stuck to the plan, if he’d stayed the course, then they could have had so much more than their restaurant. They might have had their child, too.

  She gripped her keys tighter in her hand, pressing the jagged edges into her palm, wanting to feel a pain deeper than the one in her heart. Losing Mark had been terrible, but losing their baby had been so much worse.

  And it all could have been avoided.

  She didn’t want to hear his words, his weak apologies. It didn’t make a difference now. She just wanted to win this contest, get back into her own kitchen, and get the hell away from him.

  “We could have put Piccolino’s out of business.” Mark grinned, but Anna didn’t find any of this amusing.

  She glared at him. “It was your choice. You were the one who had to throw it all away. I was invested. I was committed.”

  Mark closed his eyes. “I know you were.”

  Was that regret she sensed in his expression? His eyes were flat, his jaw tense, and all at once she had an urge to ask for the answers she had never received, to know exactly why he had tossed her aside, given up their dreams for something bigger for what… a diner?

  “Well, it all worked out fine for me. I love Fireside.” She wouldn’t go there, not now, not ever. She didn’t want to hear how it could have been. To know for sure that life could have been different. That Mark regretted his actions that cost her much mor
e than some restaurant. It was too late for regrets.

  He dragged a hand through his hair, his expression turning pensive as he stared up at the building. “I still can’t believe you chose to take over my father’s old place. Of all the locations, Anna.”

  His tone succeeded in silencing her. She stared at him, aghast, knowing there was truth in his words; she could see the pain in his eyes. It was the most emotion he’d ever revealed about his father, and she hated to see him like this, beaten down and rejected, so far from the smug guy who strutted into the bar with his latest fling. For a moment, she almost missed the swagger, even the damn smirk, if it meant she didn’t have to see the hurt in those deep brown eyes.

  He’d been her friend once, and despite everything that had passed between them, every injury he’d caused her, a part of her still cared, damn it. Cared enough to not want to see him like this, hunched over, his jaw tense, his eyes far away.

  “I know how much your dad meant to you, Mark. I hope you know that I wasn’t trying to take this from you. You’d been back at Hastings for a year; I was just trying to move on with my life. There was nowhere else in town. What other choice did you leave me?”

  Mark stepped toward her. “I shouldn’t have done what I did all those years ago, Anna. I—I should have handled it differently. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. You have to know that.”

  She turned away. “I want to believe that.”

  “You have to know how much you meant to me, Anna. You were one of the closest friends I’d ever had before we starting dating.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. She stood at his side, feeling the heat from his body in contrast with the cool night air, sensing the musk of his aftershave, the awareness of his presence. A wave of emotion rolled through her when she thought of how much time had passed and how much had been lost along the way. Not just a plan for a restaurant, not just a dream of a future, but a friend. A good friend. A great one, really.