Behind the calculator, and next to an ancient cash register—one that was more for looks than functionality—sat Allie. She waved over at me, beckoning me to her before I could swing by my mother’s side and check out what was new in the shoe section.
“Guess what,” Allie said before I could even offer a greeting. She set down the pair of binoculars she’d been using to spy out the window. “Okay, we don’t have time for you to guess. I’ll just tell you. You’ve got a client. That’s the only reason I’m sitting back here and don’t have my nose pressed to the glass waiting for a glimpse of the A-list stars.”
“A client? Why wasn’t it on the schedule?”
“I told you,” Allie said emphatically. “Your mom refuses to adopt Google calendar. She doesn’t even have a working email address.”
“How am I supposed to know when I have to be at the store if we don’t have some sort of digital calendar?” I muttered. “Please get my mother to join modern civilization.”
“You do have a calendar.”
“That’s new to me.”
Allie grinned. “It’s better than digital.”
“Oh?”
“It’s called living in a small town,” she said. “I bet you ten bucks that your neighbor could’ve told you that you had an appointment this morning.”
“Angela Dewey has better things to do than keep track of my schedule.”
Allie winced. “I’m not sure that’s true. Ever since the bridge club got fined and disbanded for illegal use of narcotics—”
“Excuse me?”
“Elvira James smoked a cigarette in the bingo hall,” Allie whispered under her breath. “It was all the ladies could talk about for weeks.”
“I see.”
“Ever since then, I bet you that Angela Dewey has nothing to do with her mornings. But that’s not all that important anyway. What’s important is that your appointment is waiting in the back.”
“Jenna, stop gabbing,” my mother called from the shoe section. “We got a new shipment of shoes this morning, and I need your help organizing them. Well, after one other thing.”
“Allie spilled the beans,” I said. “How did you manage to get me an appointment already? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Angela Dewey was going to tell you,” my mother said with a shrug. “I mean, I figured you’d hear about it. Word gets around fast.”
“Calendars!” I raised my hands. “People, calendars!”
“Angela is better than a calendar. She comes equipped with her own opinions. Google is so impersonal.”
“Who’s the appointment with?” I asked with a sigh. “I’m here now, so let’s get moving.”
Judging by the look of discomfort on my mother’s face, I wasn’t going to be happy with her answer.
“Mom...” I said warningly. “What did you get me into?”
“It just sort of happened,” my mother explained apologetically. “I didn’t plan it. I swear.”
My eyebrow inched higher than I thought was possible.
“It’s too late to do anything about it,” my mother continued, “so just go in the back and get started already. I put him up in a dressing room.”
“How about a few details? Is this client looking for something specific?”
“Possibly a date.”
I halted in my tracks. “Excuse me?”
“You know, a casual wedding date.” My mother heaved a sigh at my angry eyebrows. “Don’t be mad at me, Jenna. Chief Dear was invited to a wedding next weekend, and I heard him talking about it at June’s café this morning. I invited him to the store because we got in a few new suits. He’d been complaining about how he didn’t have anything to wear, how he’d have to get dressed up, how he hated weddings, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. Not to mention how he didn’t have anyone to go with, the poor guy.”
“Mother.”
“I just thought you could maybe help with one thing,” my mother said slyly. “Or both. But that’s not my decision to make.”
“No, it’s not,” I said. “I’ll help him with the styling. That’s it.”
“Are you talking about Cooper needing a date to the wedding?” Allie made her way over to the shoe section of the store and flipped a pair of sparkly boots out of their box. She admired them for a long moment. Then she slipped her feet into them. “These are amazing.”
I sized up Allie’s outfit. She meant well, but her sense of fashion was a bit... hazardous to the general public’s eyes. She wore striped green and black pants that looked like they’d time-traveled out of the seventies, a purple velour turtleneck, and a Pocahontas-like headband in her hair that had feathers dripping down her back. She’d added leg warmers despite the rising temperatures. None of it matched the sparkling boots.
“Don’t these look great?” Allie pressed. She did a tap dance, preening one leg before us in a little shuffle. “I think in another life I should have been a dancer. Or maybe a singer. Definitely something in the entertainment industry.”
“Right, well...” I looked at my mother, who supportively clapped in Allie’s direction. “Since I’m a professional here, I should get to work. Also, Mother, please don’t schedule any surprise appointments for tomorrow because I’m taking the day off.”
“I don’t remember giving you the day off,” my mother said. “Did I give you the day off?”
“If you had a calendar,” I said pointedly, “you’d know the answer to that.”
“Doing something fun?” Allie stumbled toward me in her gigantic boots, following me to the back of the store. “I have the day off tomorrow, too, you know. It’s a slow day on Tuesdays. If you need help having fun, I’m your gal.”
I gave a glance at Allie’s boots. “I don’t doubt that. Though you might be a little too much fun for me.”
Oblivious to my sarcasm, Allie leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ll teach you how to have a good time.”
Luckily, I was saved from having to answer Allie because the door to the dressing room opened at that very moment. In the silence, Allie started to say something, but when she looked up at the sight before us, she stopped mid-sentence.
“Oh,” she said.
That was about all there was to say.
Blueberry Lake is a small town. It might be without many modern amenities—we don’t have a Burberry storefront or one-day shipping from Amazon Prime. We don’t even have a basic skinny vanilla latte from Starbucks. Despite these shortcomings, the one thing Blueberry Lake has going for it is an impressive-looking chief of police.
For some reason, he was even more impressive on this Monday morning. Maybe it was because he didn’t have half the buttons on his shirt buttoned. Or maybe it was because his hair was all mussed from trying on a shirt that was the wrong size. Or maybe it was the hint of amusement in his eyes as he met my gaze.
Whatever it was, Cooper Dear looked straight out of central casting—like the lead male in a rom-com. When Allie muttered something under her breath about the view being delicious, I found it hard to disagree. But I would rather be caught dead than agree with her out loud, so instead, I raised my hand to shield my vision as if staring directly at the sun.