job, she also loved the occasional opportunity to enjoy the fruits of her labor. “Thanks,” she told Lulu. “I stole them from Harlan Jones’s front porch.”
“Stole them?”
“Yep. That man is too stubborn for his own good.”
“And sexy,” Lulu said with a sigh. She pushed her dark brown hair off her brow, and then took a sip of one of the two iced coffees she’d brought out earlier. “Not to mention that Southern drawl. He’s yummy all around.”
Sophie laughed. “Yummy? I wouldn’t describe Harlan Jones with that word or anything close to it.”
“Then you are blind, girlfriend, because that man is the sexiest thing to come to this town in a long time.” Lulu pressed a hand to her chest. “And since I’m the one who rented that house to him, you should be thanking me for improving the neighborhood view.”
Mildred Meyers came striding down the sidewalk, saving Sophie from replying about Harlan Jones’s sexiness quotient. Probably a good thing, because Sophie had no time for a man in her life. She’d learned her lesson about trying to mix a relationship and a business that consumed most of her hours, a lesson that had ended her engagement and left her wondering how anyone managed to combine entrepreneurship with a personal life. On top of that, the messy and very public ending of her relationship with Jim had been the talk of the town for months.
Reminder to self: Never run out on your own wedding on a slow news day. The reporters had bugged her for weeks, disrupting her life and her business. Thank goodness the furor had finally died down. Sophie was inordinately relieved when Gertrude Maxwell took up a Winchester shotgun and chased her cheating husband out of the house, thus becoming the new topic du jour.
Either way, Sophie loved her cozy little coffee shop. It wasn’t just her business, it was her refuge, even if building the business into something strong and viable was a continual, energy draining effort. She worked hard, but at a job she loved. When she reached the end of her week and realized she hadn’t so much as flirted with a man, never mind go out on a date, she told herself there’d be time later for a relationship.
Yeah, like maybe when she was in a retirement home.
“I’ve had the most amazing brainstorm!” Mildred exclaimed as she approached them.
Sophie smiled. Combining Mildred with the word “brainstorm” could very well be a dangerous proposition. Mildred had once been a teacher—had even served as Sophie’s third grade teacher—and had always been an active member of Edgerton Shores. She was an effusive, quirky woman with a penchant for bright clothing in garish combinations. Today she had on a pair of neon-lime Capri pants and a coral blouse that seemed to rival the sun in color strength. A chunky turquoise-and-gold necklace completed the ensemble, and was echoed in her jeweled sandals. “Where’s your partner in crime?” Sophie asked.
“Your grandmother was feeling a bit under the weather, so she stayed home today.”
Concern flooded Sophie as she and Mildred headed into Cuppa Java and Sophie started making Mildred her usual order. “I should leave and go see her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Your grandmother told me specifically that you were ‘not to worry or run over to her house for no good reason.’” Mildred fluttered her fingers in air quotes. “She is just fine, and ‘you have enough on your hands,’ quote, unquote.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. Besides, I left my can of pepper spray there. She’s covered for any situation.”
Sophie bit back a laugh. Mildred and her pepper spray. Ever since she’d read a newspaper article saying that local crime had risen two percent over the last year, she’d started carrying the little can in her purse.
“Miss Meyers, I hardly think there’s going to be a pepper spray–worthy incident in Edgerton Shores this afternoon.”
“You never know,” she said, wagging her finger in Sophie’s direction. “Anyway, back to why I’m here. I came up with the most brilliant idea!”
Sophie finished mixing a latte for Mildred, then slid the coffee over to her. Lulu had also come inside and was busy loading fresh-baked cookies into the glass display case. “For what, Miss Meyers?” Sophie asked.
“For the town’s Spring Fling, of course. We wanted something that would draw attention to the town and get people around here excited again.” Mildred’s red lips spread in a wide smile. “And I’ve got the perfect solution.” Mildred dug in her floral tote bag and took out a thick pad of paper filled with notes in her distinctive loopy handwriting. “A love lottery.”
Lulu sputtered, biting back a laugh. Sophie cocked her head, sure she’d heard Mildred wrong. “A love what?”
“A love lottery. I told your grandma about it and she thought it was a splendid idea. All the single people in town put in applications to be matched with another single person. They pay a few dollars for their match, and once they find their perfect love, they go out on a date.”
“Like one of them, whatcha call it? Online dating services?” Lulu asked.
Mildred waved a dismissive hand, then tucked the notepad back into her tote bag. “We aren’t going to do any fancy internet stuff. We’ll be matching people based on similar interests, the old-fashioned way.”
“What old-fashioned way?” Lulu asked.
Mildred pressed a hand to her ample bosom. “By instinct, of course. By, well, my instincts, since I have so much dating experience.”
Sophie looked at Lulu. Lulu looked at Sophie. Both of them decided not to ask about any of Mildred’s dating experiences. There were times when a little information was just too much.
“I’m not sure about this,” Sophie said. “Do you really think we’ll have enough participation? Edgerton Shores is a pretty small town.”
Mildred harrumphed. “I have done my research, and this town has a sixty-two percent available rate. We are home to some highly desirable singles.”
“We are?” Lulu said. “Someone better tell me where they are, then, because I’ve been looking for a man for way too long. Specifically, a man with a j-o-b.”
Sophie laughed. Poor Lulu hadn’t exactly gotten lucky in love, though Sophie wasn’t one to talk. She’d thought she’d had it all, then realized pretty quickly that was a figment of her imagination. That she’d mistaken infatuation for love and had missed the warning signs that she was marrying Mr. Wrong. Thank God she’d gotten smart before she got a wedding band.
The media, however, had never seemed interested in her side of the story. They’d loved the sensation of a bride ditching her groom at the last minute—and that was all the sentence they wanted before they put in the period.
“For instance, there’s Art Conway, over on LaBelle Terrace,” Mildred said, interrupting Sophie’s thoughts. “That man’s got a nice retirement package from GE, and a brand-new Cadillac.” A smile danced across the older woman’s features. “He’s quite the talk at the senior center.”
Sophie bit back a laugh. She could just see the results of the love lottery—a whole lot of eligible
