Quinn said with admiration. “I bet you can get a guy to agree to anything!”
“Not so. Just last night…” It occurred to Arianne that maybe she didn’t want to share the story of how Gabe Sloan had shot her down. Not because she was embarrassed—it wasn’t that big a deal—but because her friends might read too much into it. “Hey, why am I the only one without a clipboard here? I feel cheated.”
Lilah rolled her eyes at the non sequitur. “Fess up, Waide. We want the rest of the story.”
“I asked Gabe Sloan if he wanted to have dinner with me,” Ari admitted as casually as she could.
It was a good thing she had perspective on the matter. The same could not be said for her friends. Lilah’s eyes doubled in diameter, and Quinn flopped back in her chair so hard the wicker base wobbled.
“Gabriel Sloan!” they chorused. It was hard to tell whether they were appalled or delighted. They definitely weren’t nonchalant.
“Oh, fine.” Ari sighed. “Get it all out of your systems. Anyone want to gush about how dreamy he is? Someone prank dial him while I doodle our names together in a heart on my clipboard. Oh, wait, I don’t have one.”
Lilah reached down to smack Ari lightly on the back of the head. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were interested in him. Do your brothers know about this?”
Before Ari could explain that this had been a onetime invitation, not serious interest, Quinn protested, “It’s not like she kept it a secret. She’s been commenting since summer how sexy he is.”
“I do recall mentioning that a couple of times,” Arianne admitted. And who could blame her? No one in town disputed his quietly wicked appeal—it was part of the basis of the scandal. Although, personally, Arianne felt Shay Templeton was more than equally to blame. Few ever voiced that opinion, though. Probably out of respect for the dead.
“So why did he turn you down?” Lilah asked, dragging Arianne back to the present.
“Said something about my not being his type.”
The other two women looked outraged, talking over top of each other in their haste to stick up for her.
“But you’re—”
“A Waide! Everyone in this town—”
“Beautiful. I couldn’t get my hair to look like that—”
“—loves you. Who does he thinks he is?”
“Is he blind?”
Arianne giggled. “Well, thanks for the outpouring of support, but I wasn’t losing sleep over it. Maybe I’m really not his type. He’s entitled to feel that way.”
“Huh.” Quinn rocked back in her chair, thoughtful. “For a guy who looks like a walking magnet for any female with a pulse, I can’t remember the last time I heard he was dating anyone. What do you suppose his type is?”
They were all silent for a moment, and Arianne wondered if her friends were also thinking about Shay Templeton. God, she would have been about my age when she died. Arianne was sure that, at some point in her childhood, she’d seen the woman, but she’d never had real reason to take notice.
Ari looked at Lilah, the oldest of the three of them. “Do you think the story is true?”
Lilah shrugged. “Depends on which version you mean.”
The Templetons had been a wealthy, tempestuous couple, known for loud fights in the dining room of the country club. One valet reported stumbling across them while they passionately made up in their parked car. Mr. Templeton had been nearly forty, a decade and a half older than his wife, and devoted to the law firm in which he was partner. Gossip ran that whenever Shay got to feeling neglected, she would shower affection on a chosen young man, playing to Templeton’s one insecurity to provoke his jealous attention. But, as far as Arianne knew, none of the men she’d flirted with had been as young as sixteen-year-old lawn boy Gabe Sloan. One story had Gabe shooting Mr. Templeton in a jealous rage, with Shay falling down the curved staircase to her death as she and her lover tried to flee. Other citizens scoffed that Gabe wasn’t even at the house at the time the gunshot was reported. The end result remained the same—Shay Templeton had a broken neck and Mr. Templeton had been shot with his own revolver.
It was rare for something so controversial to happen here in Mistletoe, and the whole sordid tale had grown into local legend. Making Gabe some sort of cross between Don Juan and a yeti.
“Why do you think he’s stayed all these years?” Arianne asked. She knew Gabe’s father still lived in Mistletoe, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen them together publicly. Were they close?
“Whatever the truth is, it’s a sad story.” Quinn rolled her shoulders back as if trying to shrug off impending gloom. “What made you ask him out, Ari?”
“Don’t know, really. Like you said, I’ve noticed how attractive he was. This just happened to be the first time I found myself alone with him. Why not ask him out? It’s how I’d approach any other guy who interested me.”
Lilah and Quinn shot her pointed looks. Gabe Sloan was so not “any other guy.” He was in a category unto himself.
“Will it be awkward next time he comes into the store?” Quinn asked. “That’s one of the reasons I’m hesitant about Patrick, or any man associated with the school. I have to be there every day, cheerful and patient for the kids, I can’t risk creating an uncomfortable work environment.”
“I don’t feel awkward about his rejection at all,” Ari insisted. “And I can prove it. You guys say we need some extra muscle to help with the festival? I know just the solution.”
Her friends gaped at her as if she’d lost her ever-loving mind.
“What? Haven’t you seen his biceps?” she demanded. “The festival is a community tradition. He’s part of the community.”
“Not in the strictest sense,” Lilah argued gently.
“Then, maybe it’s time he was.” Arianne’s natural determination had kicked in; there was little chance of anyone dissuading her now.
She thought of her large, close-knit family and the warm, nurturing sanctuary Mistletoe had always been for her. It pained her to think of her comforting hometown being something more sinister for Gabe. For whatever reason, he’d chosen to stay—maybe because of his family ties or maybe just because he, like her, was a stubborn cuss, refusing to be driven out by furtive speculation.
Whatever the reason, if he planned to remain, it only made sense that he’d eventually want to perform a role in their shared society besides supporting player in a fourteen-year-old tragedy.
Ari brightened. She’d been feeling a bit melancholy lately as the golden summer days shortened into the early darkness of fall. It was probably just the natural letdown now that all the activity surrounding Lilah’s wedding—Ari had been the maid of honor—and preparations for Rachel’s baby—Ari had helped repaint the nursery and had been the backup Lamaze coach—were behind them. For almost two years, it seemed as if her family had been frenzied with events,
