Dating, Dining, and Desperation (A Dear Daphne Novel)

by Carlson, Melody

  “But sometimes it feels like being tortured. Like I’m just doing my time, waiting for the ax to fall. Sometimes I want to just throw my hands in the air and say ‘forget it’ and go live my own life somewhere else.”

  “I thought you liked Appleton.”

  “I do. I love it.”

  “And this house and everything? Don’t you like it too?”

  “Of course. You know I do. But at the same time there’s so much pressure.” She sighed. “If I didn’t have to think about it, like I’ve been trying to do lately, it’s not so bad.” She pointed her finger at Sabrina. “And that’s why I banned this topic from this house.”

  “I know. My bad.” She frowned. “Sorry.”

  “Whenever I get too focused on finding Mr. Right, everything seems to go wrong. That’s exactly what happened when I first moved here in May,” Daphne confessed. “It was like I was so desperate to get married, I couldn’t see straight. After a month or so of frenzy, I sort of stepped back and decided I was going to trust God to direct my life. And honestly, I felt as if I was finally in a really good place . . . in July.”

  “Right before I moved in?”

  “Yeah, I guess it was around then.”

  “Meaning I messed you up?”

  The oven timer went off and Daphne got up to remove the muffins. “I don’t think I can blame it on you.” She set the pans on top of the stove. “Although July was going pretty well for me. I felt happy and relaxed and I was just enjoying life. But then I got all into hyper-mode again.”

  “But I thought that was because Jake jilted you by taking his ex on vacation with him?”

  Daphne frowned. “In the first place, I don’t think Jake really jilted me. It’s just that we were only friends. I had misunderstood. But you’re probably right. That did sort of make me feel desperate again.”

  “And rightly so.”

  Daphne looked up from where she was removing the hot muffins, setting some on a plate. “You think I should be feeling desperate?”

  “No, of course not, honey. No one should feel desperate. But just the same, aren’t you the least bit concerned that the clock is ticking? I mean December is less than three months away now.”

  Daphne shrugged. “That doesn’t matter to me. Besides, May is still a ways out there. That’s the real drop-dead deadline.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I know, I know. Both you and Olivia believe it takes at least six months to plan the perfect wedding. But I can’t get trapped in that kind of thinking. Look at Karen and my dad. They’re putting together what sounds like a fairly nice wedding in just a couple of months. At least Karen’s excited about it. Not sure my dad cares.” She set the warm muffins on the table and sat down.

  “Mmm, those look good.” Sabrina reached for a muffin, carefully peeling back the paper. “See, just one more thing I’ll miss if you’re not here next year. You’re such a good cook.” She broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth. “Yummy. I’ll have to make sure to get the recipe from you before you’re gone.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes as she picked up a muffin. “No hurries there.”

  They quietly munched on the muffins, but Daphne could see Sabrina was still fretting about something.

  “What is wrong with us?” Sabrina exclaimed.

  “Wrong with us? What do you mean?”

  “I mean you and me, honey.”

  “I don’t think anything is wrong with us, Sabrina. I think we are just fine.”

  “Do you know what day this is?”

  Daphne thought hard. It was easy for her to lose track of the days when she spent so much time writing. Was it Thursday . . . Friday . . . ?

  “It’s Saturday,” Sabrina declared.

  “Oh, well, okay. It’s Saturday. What’s your point?”

  “My point is, what are you doing tonight?”

  Daphne shrugged.

  “Getting into your pj’s and watching Turner Classics with Lucy and Ethel,” Sabrina said in a flat tone. “You don’t have to tell me. I know it’s what you do almost every night.”

  “So.”

  “Doesn’t that strike you as disturbing? Look at you, Daph. You’re only thirty-four. You’re gorgeous. You’re smart. You’re available. But you have spent the last few Saturdays—and Fridays—home alone with a couple of elderly felines. Anything wrong with that picture?”

  “What about you? You’ve spent your Saturday nights with an aging Chihuahua, watching Housewives of Atlanta or Beverly Hills or wherever.”

  “I’ve been more into New Jersey lately. Somehow those women make me feel better about myself.”

  Daphne smiled.

  “But here’s the deal, Daph. You and I blew through several perfectly nice, not to mention attractive, single men not long ago. Mick, Collin, Tony . . . just to name a few.”

  Daphne chuckled. “I think you may be blowing this out of proportion.”

  “Maybe, but this morning I was remembering when I was in my twenties. Back then I always had a bunch of hopeful admirers clustering around me. And I was the one who left a trail of broken hearts behind. Now I can’t seem to attract a single living breathing male to save my life. I honestly fear I may have lost my touch.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Seriously, it’s very discouraging. I couldn’t believe that Dr. Tony wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I told him it was just for coffee and I even offered to make it my treat. I sent him a very nice photo and everything. But he said ‘no thank you’ so quickly, it made my head literally spin.”

  “Literally?” Daphne laughed to imagine Sabrina’s head rotating round and round. “That must’ve hurt.”

  “You know what I mean. Tony treated me as if I had a bad case of cooties. And the photo I sent him was really a good one too.”

  “Well, if you ask me, I think you dodged a bullet with that guy. Be thankful.”

  “So you say, but I was perfectly willing to make this discovery on my own. Not that I was given the chance. But that’s not all. I wasn’t going to tell you, but just a few days ago—remember when you refused to go to town to have lunch with me on Wednesday—well, I went to Midge’s all by my little ol’ lonesome. And I hate to admit it, but I flirted shamelessly with Ricardo the whole time I was there. I practically begged the poor man to ask me out. Am I pathetic or what? Can you believe it?”

  Daphne actually did feel a bit shocked. “And what did Ricardo say? How did he react?”

  “Of course he was sweet and polite. Just like always. But that was it. Absolutely no interest. Totally humiliating. That is when I really started to question myself. I honestly think I’ve lost my appeal.”

  “Maybe you’re just trying too hard.”

  “I’m sure Kellie would agree with you. Oh, if looks could kill. Seriously, she looked like she was about to invite me out back to settle things. I cannot understand why Ricardo keeps her on.” Sabrina finished the last of her coffee and stood. “Anyway, thank you for listening, honey. Sometimes it feels therapeutic to whine and complain a little.” She grinned. “At least I know I’m not alone in my dating dry spell. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome . . . I think.” Daphne wondered what had happened to her previous banning of any talk concerning men and dating and her deadline. Although to be fair, this had been more about Sabrina’s unfortunate love life than Daphne’s.

  “Anyway, I promised to take Tootsie for a nice, long walk this morning.” She giggled. “And who knows, maybe I’ll stumble into Mr. Right in the park.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “I know . . . you’re probably right.” Sabrina shook her head. “I’m starting to worry that you and I may be fishing in too small of a pond.”

  Daphne set the cups in the sink with a clunk. “I’m not fishing, Sabrina. Remember?”

  “So you say now.
We’ll see what you’re saying a few months from now when we’re in the middle of winter and the prospects are even gloomier.”

  After Sabrina left, Daphne went to her office, prepared to lose herself in chapter twenty-seven of her novel. She felt like the book would be finished in about ten more chapters or so. But since she’d never really done this before, she wasn’t absolutely sure. She also wasn’t sure what she would do with the novel when it was done. Aunt Dee’s old publisher might look at it, simply because of the Penelope Poindexter books Aunt Dee had penned for them. However, Daphne’s book was not a romance. No bodice ripping happened in her story.

  Daphne wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to actually read her book. What if it stunk? How humiliating would that be? Still, determined to at least finish it, she pressed on. One of her secret goals in pushing forward with her novel was the hope of independence. If only she could successfully contract a novel, she might feel like she was strong enough to stand on her own two feet. And then she could start planning for her future and stop worrying about the frustrating demands of Aunt Dee’s will.

  Later on Saturday, just as Daphne was comfortably—and predictably—attired in her favorite flannel pj’s, with Ethel and Lucy nestled close to her, a steaming cup of chamomile tea at her elbow, and the remote aimed for the TV, her dad called.

  “Home alone again?” he asked. “On a Saturday night too?”

  “Have you been talking to Sabrina?”

  “Not lately. Why?”

  “Nothing.” She tossed the remote aside. “It’s just that she was over here earlier today, reminding me of my lackluster love life.”

  “Good for Sabrina. I’m been worried about that too. For a while I was worried I might have to ward off some of the fellows with a baseball bat. And now it seems like you’re spending every night alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” She stroked Lucy’s fur.

  “Oh? You have someone over there? I’m sorry. I’ll let you go.”

  “No, I just meant the cats. And really, they’re good company.”

  “See! That’s just what I’m talking about. You’ve got me worried, sweetie.”

  “Please don’t worry about me, Dad.” She told him about how focused she’d been on her novel the last few weeks. “At the rate I’m going, I might finish it by the end of the month.”

  “That’s great, Daphne. But I’m still worried.”

  “What exactly are you worried about?”

  “That you are turning into your Aunt Dee.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I suppose, in a way, it is a compliment. Except that I know Dee had regrets. It had never been her intent to become an old maid. Initially she got trapped into it.” He let out a sigh. “Of course, I never realized it back then. Never fully appreciated the sacrifices she made for me. Never knew why she worked so hard.”

  “You mean because she was your mother, helping to support you?”

  “Yes. I’m still working that all out in my head. But I am grateful. I wish I could’ve told her before she passed.”

  “I know, Dad. Me too.”

  “When Dee and I used to have lunch—almost every Thursday—she would open up a little with me. Especially in her final years. And trust me, she had plenty of regrets. She admitted that she was lonely too. More lonely than any of us ever realized.”

  “Yeah, Dad. I kind of know about that.”

  “How do you know? Have you found something she wrote? A journal?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Jake McPheeters filled me in a little. Back in May, you know, when he told me about the inheritance.”

  “Oh yes. Well, that makes sense.”

  She could hear a questioning tone in his voice, as if he was suspicious. Naturally, this concerned her. What if he started questioning the conditions of Aunt Dee’s will? What if he figured things out? The last thing she needed was for Dad to start pushing her toward available bachelors or setting her up on blind dates. “Well, I think it was just because Aunt Dee and I have some commonalities and—”

  “That’s my point, Daphne. You do. And I just know Dee would be disappointed if you followed too closely in her footsteps. Especially when it comes to being an old maid.”

  Daphne forced a laugh. “Okay, first of all, I’m only thirty-four, Dad. That hardly qualifies me for old-maid status. Besides that, ‘old maid’ is kind of a derogatory term—not just insulting to me, but Aunt Dee as well. I prefer to remember her as an independent, intelligent, confident woman. I’d be proud to end up like her.”

  “That’s sweet, Daph. But I’m still concerned. Karen thinks you’re becoming antisocial and—”

  “That’s a little harsh. Just tell her I’m finishing my novel. I’ll be out in circulation again after it’s done. Probably about the time of your wedding. How’s that coming by the way?” This would be a good distraction technique.

  Dad groaned. “Don’t ask.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong?”

  “The guest list. It keeps growing. It’s like the creature from the Black Lagoon that’s threatening to swallow Appleton.”

  She laughed. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not funny. I offered to pay for half the wedding. But that was when I thought it was a small affair.”

  “Why does it have to be big?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know too. Karen says it’s because she has so many business contacts. And I understand that. She’s been doing real estate since the nineties, and she probably knows everyone in town. So she invites one old client and then she has to invite another. It just keeps going and going. Then I hear she’s going to invite someone who is just a casual friend of mine, and then I feel guilty as if I should invite someone else who’s been a closer friend. Can you see how it goes?”

  “Yes, unfortunately. I’m sorry.”

  “And Karen really wanted to have a sit-down dinner, but when you pay by the head . . .” He let out a long sigh. “I guess I should be thankful you’re not getting married anytime soon.”

  She gave a nervous laugh.

  “So really, why am I calling you up and pressuring you about your love life?” he teased. “Forget everything I just said, Daph.”

  “I’m happy to.”

  “And I’m not worried about you becoming an old maid—excuse me. Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, Karen did ask if you would join us for lunch tomorrow. She wants to talk to you about some of the wedding stuff. Do you have time to meet us at the country club after church?”

  “Sure, I can come out of my cave long enough to do that.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  As Daphne hung up the phone, she replayed Dad’s words about being glad she wasn’t getting married in the near future. She should be grateful for him stepping away like that. Except that the idea of her dad and Karen planning a big pull-out-the-stops sort of wedding left her feeling sort of lost . . . sort of left behind. What if she did find Mr. Right? And what if she did want to get married, say, within a year or maybe even eight months? Would she then be limited to a dozen guests and chicken-salad sandwiches and a DJ? What kind of wedding could she realistically afford?

  She glanced down at her old and faded Hello Kitty pj’s, ones she’d had since college, then dismally shook her head. Get real. At the rate she was going, what were the chances she’d ever have a wedding anyway? At least not anytime in the near future.

  Chapter 16

  I think you’d make a lovely bridesmaid,” Dad told Daphne as the three of them were finishing up their lunch. Karen had spent the last fifteen minutes encouraging Daphne to round out her bridesmaids to five by joining the wedding party.

  “I think I’d be more comfortable being a groomsman,” Daphne said quietly.

  “Oh?” Karen looked slightly offended.

  “I’m sorry.” Dap
hne tossed Dad a nervous glance. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just that I haven’t really gotten to know you very well, Karen. And, you see, I’ve known Dad my whole life.”

  Karen nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. But I don’t see us having any female groomsmen, do you, Don?”

  “It’s your wedding.” Dad shrugged as he reached for his water glass.

  “It’s our wedding,” she reminded him for what seemed about the tenth time in the past hour.

  “I know. I know.” He patted her hand. “But you’re the bride, dear. It’s up to you. Besides, if Daphne doesn’t want to be in the wedding party, we can’t very well force her.”

  Karen’s mouth twisted to one side. “No. You’re right. We can’t force her. I just wanted this to feel like a real family celebration. But it seems like the wedding party is a little unbalanced. It consists more of my family than yours.” She turned back to Daphne. “My two sons have barely met your father, yet they are willing to stand up as groomsmen with him. And my brother as well.”

  Dad nodded. “That was convenient for me since I only had two buddies who seemed right for the wedding.”

  “So I had just hoped . . .” Karen’s voice trailed off.

  “Okay,” Daphne agreed with reluctance. “If you really want me, I’m happy to participate.”

  “Really?” Karen’s face lit up.

  “Yes. It’ll be fun.” Daphne forced a smile. Okay, it might be fun watching her dad getting hitched from close up.

  “But why were you so reluctant?” Dad asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe I just thought you were asking me to be polite.”

  “No,” Karen assured her. “We want you there.” She reached into her oversized bag and removed a large three-ring binder. “This is my wedding planning book.” She opened it on the table. “Everything for the wedding is in here.” She flipped through pages, showing photos of the cake and the flowers.

  “Those flowers are gorgeous,” Daphne told her. “You’re so smart to pick a fall wedding.”

  “And these are the dresses.” Karen flipped to a page where a dark-haired model wore something that resembled puffed pastry in a purplish shade that reminded Daphne of an uncooked hot dog. “I wanted to go with cocktail-length dresses,” she explained. “That way you can wear it later.”