Seeking Single Male. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ Holy hallucinogen, Alex, you know the only reason I maintain my membership in that uppity organization is for the insurance.”

      “Afraid of hooking up with a thinking man?”

      She frowned at her friend. “No. I’d love to find a man with a big brain. But most eggheads are just that—eggheads. No life, no passion. Now, finding a man with a big brain and a big—”

      The phone rang, cutting off her tirade, and spurring Alex’s laughter. Lana sprang for the receiver. “Best Cuppa Joe, this is Lana. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a Cheery Kwanza.”

      “Lana, this is Marshall Ballou.”

      Of Ballou’s Antique Clothing Boutique at the end of the block. “Hey, Marsh. What’s up?”

      “I just picked up my mail. Did you know there’s a rezoning meeting this Friday?”

      Black dread ballooned in her stomach—so the rumor was true. “I hadn’t heard yet, but of course I’ll be there.”

      “I was hoping you’d say that, hon, because I was just talking to Vic and Paige and Maxie, and we’d like for you to be our spokeswoman.”

      She lifted her eyebrows. “Me?”

      “What do you say?”

      “I say you must be desperate.”

      “Quite the contrary, my dear, you’re perfect. And we need you. The company that owns the property thinks they can railroad this rezoning plan through because it’s our busy season and we won’t notice.”

      Lana swallowed to force down the bad taste in her mouth. When she’d gone headfirst into debt to buy the coffee shop, she’d bought a virtual landmark. Everyone in Lexington knew there was a coffee shop at 145 Hunt Street. Parking was decent, the atmosphere was good. She’d never be able to build this kind of traffic at a new location—not enough to pay back her loans. “S-sure, Marsh, whatever I can do.”

      “Great. Call me after closing tonight. Gotta run.”

      Lana returned the receiver gingerly, telling herself not to panic. Yet.

      “Bad news?” Alex asked.

      “Potentially. There’s a council meeting Friday night to introduce a rezoning plan for the blocks between here and Hyde. The local shop owners want me to be their mouthpiece.”

      “Good choice, since some of the council members already know who you are.”

      “Yeah, from protest rallies.” She dropped into the chair. “I so do not need this right now. Besides, without the landlord’s support, I don’t believe it’ll do much good.”

      “So get the landlord’s support.”

      “We’ve tried, but the property is in the hands of so many holding companies, we haven’t even been able to reach a real live person.”

      “I can have Daddy talk to his friend on the council and at least make them aware of the way the merchants have been ignored.”

      Her friend had offered help many times before—usually financial—but this was the first time Lana was desperate enough to take advantage of the clout the Tremont name commanded in the city. She touched Alex’s hand and nodded. “Thanks. I know all of the shop owners will be grateful.”

      “Consider it done. If there’s going to be a fight, at least it’ll be a fair fight.”

      Lana puffed out her cheeks in a weary sigh. “So much for sleeping the rest of the week.”

      “Don’t worry—you’ll knock ’em dead.” Alex stood and lifted her mug, but her obviously forced smile did not put Lana at ease. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for the coffee.” She walked to the door, then turned back with a little frown. “Cheery Kwanza?”

      Lana shrugged.

      Alex laughed. “Keep me posted on the roommate search.”

      Lana relinquished a smile as she watched the woman she’d known since junior high leave the shop with a sexy bounce to her step. Alex, it seemed, had nabbed the last gorgeous, independent, thinking man walking the face of the earth, or at least walking in the vicinity of the Bluegrass. Lana was happy for her friend, and sad for the rest of the female population, primarily herself. In times like these, it would have been nice to have a big, dependable shoulder to lean on. But since she’d bought the shop, she no longer had time to entertain her fantasies about a stranger arriving to sweep her off her feet. Now she’d settle for someone willing to sweep the floor.

      With great effort, she pushed the upcoming council meeting from her mind while she tidied up the tables and plugged in the lights of the four Christmas trees on the stage. The liquid bubble lights on the smallest tree cheered her immensely. She loved this time of year—people were in a generous spirit during the holidays, if at no other time. It served a little glimpse into how things were supposed to be.

      She worked around a college-age couple reading from a shared book and holding hands. A pang of envy cut through her chest. Young love was so sweet, so powerful. But she looked at the young woman and willed her to remain her own person, to follow her own interests, to make her own way. Not to marry out of sheer infatuation, then someday wake up dissatisfied with the life she’d built around another person’s needs and wants.

      Like her mother. The divorce had taken all of thirty days—and Lana hadn’t even known until she’d dropped by her parents’ apartment during a college class break and found her old room stacked with moving boxes. Janet now lived in Florida, selling tour packages and dating men that were wrong for her. Lana’s father had bought a secondhand RV and hit the road with a chick named Mia. She hadn’t seen him in years. The sordid clichés had broken Lana’s heart. She’d thrown herself into her studies, determined to make something of herself that had nothing to do with a man.

      About that time she had discovered The Best Cuppa Joe as a hangout. Old Mr. Haffner had given her grief about not liking coffee—but kept tea bags beneath the counter just for her. She loved the artsy feel of the place, the way musicians and poets and would-be philosophers gathered to try to solve the world’s problems. Who would’ve thought that she would someday own the place?

      She knocked over a mug and chastised herself for wasting precious time before the lunch rush. Picking up her pace, she carried table scraps to the back door and fed the two stray cats that magically appeared each morning. The day-old pastries went into a box to be delivered to a soup kitchen a few blocks away. Sorting the trash between serving customers took a while, with each recyclable going into its proper bin. When the morning chores were finished, Lana straightened the magazine she and Alex had been reading and decided to check the voice mailbox for the ad she’d placed. Juggling the receiver, she punched buttons while reaching for a pad of paper.

      Eight calls—five men and three women. For one reason or another, none of them sounded exactly right. Then, remembering what Alex had said about her being too choosy, Lana replayed the messages and jotted down names, then just numbers when the pen threatened to run out of ink. Okay, so one of the women had a voice so annoying Lana struck her from the list, but she did return the rest of the calls, inviting the applicants to stop by the coffee shop for a chat as soon as possible—the first to make the grade would sign the lease.

      She СКАЧАТЬ