path as her seventy-four-year-old grandmother. But he knew Chloe’s sudden decision to listen had less to do with his persuasive abilities than their upcoming class reunion. He almost called her on it. But the truth was, he liked the idea of having company during the runs he took four mornings a week.
“We can meet in the park at eight,” he said after a moment.
“Great.”
Her smile lasted until Helga arrived with their food. The cream-cheese-laden bagel beckoned. The way she swallowed before sucking in her bottom lip told him as much. Whoever had been manning the knife in the kitchen had been generous with the topping.
“Anything else?” Helga asked, her meaty hands resting on a pair of what Simon remembered a great-aunt referring to as good child-bearing hips.
No way he was going to point out that his so-called fresh fruit cup looked suspiciously like the syrup-drenched cocktail variety that came in a can.
“No. We’re good.”
More than half of the bagel remained when Helga brought the check. Chloe considered that a victory of the highest order. She’d actually sat on her hands to keep from finishing it off. Whatever it took, she was willing to do it. She had her eye on the prize.
“You promised me a walk,” she reminded Simon.
“So I did. And I never renege on my promises,” he replied. He always looked surprisingly serious when he made comments such as that, and now was no exception. “Do you have a destination in mind?”
“How about that little bookstore just off Fifth? We haven’t been there in a while.”
It was one of the few independent shops of its kind left in the city. And while Chloe had nothing against the big stores that held every title and obscure periodical under the sun and housed trendy cafes where patrons could get a good, if pricey, cup of coffee and read their purchases, she was especially fond of this place. It was the clear underdog. Chloe knew how that felt.
“Sure.”
CHAPTER THREE
The girl most likely to obsess …
IT TOOK FORTY-FIVE minutes to get to Bendle’s Books, but only because Chloe stopped to do a little window shopping along the way.
“What do you think of that dress?” she asked, pointing to a clingy black number draping a mannequin that was wand-thin and eerily faceless. She turned to Simon expectantly, only to find him frowning.
“On you?”
“No. On the mannequin. I’ll be sending it to the reunion in my place,” she snapped, even though she was a little more wounded than irritated by his dubious tone. It didn’t help that the dress undoubtedly did look better on the faceless and tummyless dummy.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s kind of … revealing.”
“And you think I’ve got a little too much to reveal at this point, is that it?”
“No, Chloe—”
“I’ll be thinner by then. The reunion is six weeks away. If I lose two—okay, more like three—pounds a week, I’ll be able to pull off that dress.” Especially if she threw in regular toning workouts and shape wear. She mentioned the exercise to Simon, but not undergarments, adding, “You’re always after me to get healthy.”
“I want you to eat more balanced meals and exercise more often. I don’t think you need to lose weight, at least not by going on some kooky crash diet.”
She brushed off his reply and started walking. “It’s not kooky.”
He fell in step beside her. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going on a kooky diet. I plan to eat sensibly, just smaller portions, and cut out comfort food entirely.”
“Entirely?” Again the dubious tone.
“Last night was it. No more mac and cheese for me and no more ice cream.”
“And bagels? What about those?”
“Today was an exception. What was I to do? Helga plopped that thing in front of me. I didn’t eat it all,” she reminded him.
“You showed admirable restraint.”
“I thought so, too.”
But her restraint took another beating when they passed a pizzeria and the smell of melted mozzarella cheese and spicy Italian sausage wafted out the door along with a satisfied-looking customer. She swallowed, not out of despair, but because her mouth had actually started to water. Why couldn’t broccoli smell like that?
“Maybe at the bookstore I’ll be able to find a cookbook that includes some of my old favorites, just with a lot less fat and fewer calories and carbohydrates.”
It was a tall order, to be sure. But hope sprang eternal.
“You could just log on to the internet, you know. A couple of keystrokes and thousands of recipes would be at your disposal.”
He would know, tech geek that he was. Chloe shook her head. “I like books. I like holding them in my hands and flipping through the pages. Besides, when I download free recipes from the internet, I don’t get to see Millicent.”
Millicent Cox owned Bendle’s. Although her daughter was largely in charge of the quaint little store these days, Millicent was a fixture behind the counter on weekend mornings.
“She’s a character.” He said it with fondness, rather than with the snarkiness that Chloe’s last boyfriend had injected into the simple statement.
Millicent was pushing eighty and had as many stories to tell as she had obscure books to sell. Between her eclectic title selection, which included some rare editions that appealed to collectors, and a colorful past that allegedly included a turn as CIA mole, visiting her shop was always an adventure.
The older woman greeted them with a shaky wave when they entered to the jangle of cowbells.
“I haven’t seen either of you in here in a while.”
“Worried about us?” Simon asked on a smile.
“Not in the least.” She cackled at his fallen expression, before admitting, “Okay, maybe a little. You get to be my age and your social calendar tends to include a lot of funerals. It’s easy to think the worst when you haven’t heard from someone in a while.”
Chloe forced a smile. Millicent didn’t seem to notice.
“So, what have you kids been doing to keep yourselves busy?” the older woman asked.
“The usual,” Simon replied on a shrug.
“That means he’s working too many hours,” Chloe clarified.
“And you?” Millicent asked.
“Not
