Beau glanced around the entryway. “This isn’t it, either. Home is…the way I feel when I walk into your house.”
Nancy wished she hadn’t asked. Because the thought of Beau Stanton making himself at home was only slightly scary. And she should have been terrified.
Nancy slid into a booth at the little Italian restaurant downtown. “Sorry I’m late. I was with a client.”
Emily Patterson winked. “I heard. Beau Stanton. You’ll have to find him a big house, ’cause each room will need to be christened. And I think you’re just the woman for the job.”
“Christened?” Nancy frowned. Realization dawned. “No way. Not me. I have no intention of getting horizontal with Beau Stanton, particularly not on a kitchen counter.”
“Did I say anything about horizontal?” Emily’s eyes widened innocently. “Or a kitchen counter?” She leaned over and whispered, “It’s way more fun to get vertical in the shower together, if you know what I mean?”
Nancy choked on a sip of water. “Emily, you’re bad.”
“As Mae West said, ‘When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better.’”
“Okay, friend, I know you have my best interests at heart. And someday I might date again. But not now and not with Beau Stanton. Did the waiter say what today’s special is?”
“Veal Parmesan. I’ll allow you to change the subject, but only for a while. Then I want all the details.”
Opening a menu, Nancy hoped Emily would forget about Beau. “How are the kids?”
“Bickering and fighting nonstop. Ordinary kids. They’re anticipating the first snow and Thanksgiving break. I promised them a day trip to do some sledding.”
“Is it almost Thanksgiving already? It hardly seems possible,” Nancy murmured, disturbed by a trace of wistfulness.
“Probably because you’ve been working so hard. How’re things going at the real-estate office?”
“Not bad, considering it’s my first year. And by the way, thank you for referring Beau, even if he is a pain in the rear at times.”
Emily beamed. “My pleasure. Are you going to your mother’s for Thanksgiving?”
Sighing, Nancy wished the holidays were as simple as when she’d been a kid. Things got so complex in adulthood. “I’d considered making the trip, but I think we’ll stay home this year. My mom’s pretty outspoken in her opinions about foreign adoptions.” She selected a bread stick from the basket and started tearing it into little pieces. “I’d love for her to be a grandmother to Ana, but she just can’t seem to accept her. This is Ana’s first holiday with me and I don’t want her to feel rejected by Mom in any way. Our Thanksgiving can be kind of quiet, but I want to make her first Christmas magical. I intend to research Russian orthodoxy and see if I can incorporate some of their traditions for Ana.”
Emily squeezed Nancy’s hand. “That sounds terrific. If anyone can do it, you can. How about coming to our house for Thanksgiving?”
“But—”
“No buts. That’s an order. We have so many people coming, nobody will notice two more. Besides, I need you to show me how to do some of that fancy presentation stuff with food. You know, where you make radishes look like roses and all the other ways you create a beautiful meal. My great-aunt Beatrice will be there, and it will hack her off no end if I suddenly seem domestic. She’s the one who said I’d never amount to anything and calls my children little heathens.”
Nancy chuckled. “In the interest of hacking off Great-Aunt Beatrice, I’d be delighted to spend Thanksgiving at your house. And I’m sure Ana would love to tag along with your kids.”
“It’s settled then. I can hardly wait.”
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