She’d mostly convinced herself of this truth when she reached the coffee counter and said hi to Della, the barista.
Deciding to indulge herself, she ordered a mint mocha and chatted with Della as the other woman made up the drink.
“I hear Katherine’s brother is in town for the wedding,” Ariana said. “And he’s staying through Christmas?”
“Sure is. Katherine is thrilled. She thinks her brother hung the moon.”
“Have you met him yet?”
“I have. Seems real nice. Not real chatty. He comes across as a bit reserved and professional, but he talks to you like you’re a human being, if you know what I mean. I liked him.”
“Oh, that’s good. I’d have hated if I couldn’t like Katherine’s brother.” Ariana glanced around the store. There were a few customers browsing the shelves and the young man who worked part-time behind the checkout counter. But no sign of anyone else. “She’s not around tonight?”
“They all went across the street to have dinner. Katherine, her brother, his kids, and the girlfriend.”
Something about the way Della pronounced the girlfriend gave Ariana a clue. She leaned closer and asked in a hushed voice, “How is she?”
Della arched her eyebrows.
Ariana pursed her lips. “Seriously? You didn’t like her?”
Della gave a slight shrug as she finished the mocha off with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “To each their own.”
“What does that mean? Was she mean or something?”
“No, she wasn’t mean at all. Very polite. The kids are awfully cute. A girl and a boy.”
“Are they the girlfriend’s kids or just Katherine’s brother’s?”
“Just the brother’s, I think. He had a wife who died a couple years back.”
“Oh. That’s terrible. Poor guy. And the poor kids. At least he was able to find someone else.”
“Uh-huh.” Della again looked so dubious it sparked Ariana’s curiosity about The Girlfriend, an appellation she was already capitalizing in her head.
“You’re not going to tell me anything else?” she demanded.
“I’ll let you come to your own conclusions. I’m not one to gossip, you know.”
Ariana snorted at that as she accepted her mocha and put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.
No reason she shouldn’t wander over to Anna’s Diner to see what was happening over there. Catch a glimpse of the brother, the kids, and The Girlfriend.
So she said good night to Della, hefted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and headed for the door. Before she reached it, a clatter from the back of the store distracted her. She stopped and turned to look.
Someone had knocked over a few books from a display. The young man who worked there was already hurrying over to help pick them up.
No emergency.
Ariana was standing still as she turned toward the door. That fact was key. She wasn’t the one moving and not looking where she was going. She was simply standing in place—not even really blocking the doorway.
The person who swept into the store at too fast a pace, not looking where she was going, was the one responsible for the collision. Not Ariana.
But she was the one who received the full impact. A woman surged into the store and ran straight into her, banging the hand holding the mocha. Ariana gasped in shock and pain as her body jerked and hot liquid and whipped cream sloshed out of the cup and onto her hand and sleeve.
The other woman gave a little squeal. “Watch where you’re going!”
Ariana blinked as she composed herself and assessed the situation. Her hand stung, but not too bad. The mocha had been hot but not scalding. She wasn’t hurt in any other way, and the only damage seemed to be the whipped cream on her pretty coat sleeve.
The woman didn’t appear to have been spilled on at all.
“Oh my,” Ariana said, her typical good nature emerging now that she saw it wasn’t an emergency. “Bad timing, I guess. But no harm done.”
“No harm? You spilled coffee all over me!” The woman held out both arms like she was covered with muck, when there didn’t appear to be even a drop on her. She had beautifully highlighted blond hair and perfectly applied makeup and a designer purse hooked over one forearm.
Ariana blinked. She was nice by nature and hated confrontation, but she’d been working hard to not be a pushover. She said, “I was just standing still. Not walking. And I don’t think either of us saw the other coming. But it doesn’t look like there was any damage done at least.” She was still smiling since there was no reason to be mean about it even though it was clearly the other woman’s fault.
For a moment, it looked like the woman was going to bite her head off. Ariana could see the angry expression ignite and then get swallowed up under a different expression. “I suppose there’s no major damage,” she said with a wide smile that didn’t look remotely sincere. “Just be careful what you do with your coffee.”
Ariana narrowed her eyes and kept the smile on her face. “Like I said, I’m sorry it happened, but I was standing still. You were the one rushing in here without looking. So there’s not any reason to blame me.”
Once again, she could see the biting response come to the other woman’s lips and then get sucked back in.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. I’m not blaming you. You’re just fine. And what a pretty little coat you have.”
Ariana wanted to growl at the saccharine tone. She knew women like this. She knew them well. Put on a fake sweetness for the world and pretend there wasn’t a cold, hard core of selfishness beneath it.
A lot of people fell for it. Far too many were deceived into thinking the facade was real.
No wonder Della had made that face earlier. This must be The Girlfriend.
“My boyfriend owns this store,” the woman said with another too-wide smile. “I’m sure he’d be okay if you need to get yourself another drink since you spilled that one.”
Ariana was torn in about five different directions. Part of her wanted to laugh at the pure shamelessness of the performance. Part of her was still angry at being the target of it. And another part of her rose up in indignation over hearing that her boyfriend “owned” this store when it was Katherine’s. Her brother was an investor, but everything else about the store was Katherine’s.
She was trying to work through how best to respond when the woman turned back toward the opening door of the store. “Here he is now.”
Ariana turned her head automatically to look.
When she saw the man who was stepping into the entryway, she blinked. Froze. Felt the cup slipping out of her fingers and just barely caught it before it fell.
Because the man who was walking in, glancing behind him as he held the door for two kids who must be his son and daughter, was Bradley.
Bradley.
Whom she’d last seen a year ago when he left the ski resort with one last kiss for her.
Today he was wearing khakis and a casual long-sleeved blue shirt. His hair was still thick and wavy—slightly mussed as it always was at the end of the day. He had a thick five-o’clock shadow on his jaw, and his sleeves were pushed up like he’d gotten hot, even though it was cool outside.
His expression was sober and natural. He was listening to something his daughter was saying. She looked about six years old and the boy a year or so younger.