use nearly often enough.
She went into her bedroom to change. She lived in the most adorable guest house that she’d found on Craigslist. Her side of the yard, which had a white picket fence, hosted an English-style garden and a naked-cherub fountain. The cherub amused her because he was one of those mischievous little angels that appeared to be peeing in the water. Everything about the place was perfect. She even had an awesome landlord who owned the property and lived in the front house. In fact, she and Candy McCall were becoming the best of friends. Prior to living here, Dana had been in an apartment crowded with roommates.
She tossed her uniform on a chair and climbed into a ragged T-shirt and comfy jeans. She was anxious to talk to Candy about Eric.
Dana ventured outside. The weather was lovely on this February evening. As she passed the cherub, she smiled.
After crossing her flower-filled yard, she entered through the gate that led to Candy’s equally colorful residence.
She approached the back door and called out through the screen. “Hey, you! Can I pop in for a minute? I have some news.”
“Of course” was the reply. “Get your butt in here.”
Dana happily entered. Candy was in her cluttered kitchen, preparing what most people would assume were regular cookies, but Dana knew they were homemade dog treats that had just come out of the oven. Candy was a yoga instructor who also taught classes in doga: yoga for dogs. On top of that, she was a strikingly beautiful, long-legged brunette who ate a strict vegetarian diet, burned luscious-smelling candles and spoke evasively about her failed marriage.
“Where’s Yogi?” Dana asked, inquiring about Candy’s yellow lab and the queen of doga.
“Napping. So what’s your news?”
“I asked him to take me on a date.”
“Him? Your hottie customer?”
Dana nodded. “I even told him that he was yummy.” She relayed her conversation with Eric. “I’m going to plan my wardrobe for tomorrow night, just in case.”
“Good idea. Send it into the universe and make it happen.”
“The hippy-dippy way?”
“Yep.”
They laughed. Hippy-dippy was a phrase Dana’s mom used to describe her free-spirited lifestyle. Mom was much more conservative, aside from the wild one-nighter she’d had with Dana’s elusive dad.
Candy turned serious. “When did Eric’s wife pass away?”
“Seven years ago.”
“And he hasn’t dated since?”
“That’s the impression I got. He said he’s been out of the loop since then.”
“Does he have any kids?”
“A daughter. She’s a business major at UCLA, with a minor in women’s studies.”
“She sounds interesting. Have you ever met her?”
“No. He’s never brought her to the diner. He’s never even told me her name. But he speaks highly of her.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“Besides him being a widowed art teacher with an eighteen-year-old daughter? Nothing, except that I want to go out with him and make him smile.”
“This isn’t a fixer-upper project, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“He sounds a bit broken, and you’re drawn to troubled people, Dana.”
“You’re not troubled.” She amended her statement. “Well, maybe you are, but that’s not why I’m friends with you.”
Naturally, Candy didn’t remark on her state of mind. They both knew that she’d yet to make peace with her divorce.
Instead she asked, “Did Eric ever tell you how his wife died?”
“She had cancer. But he never said what kind or how long her battle lasted. He only mentioned it briefly.”
“How badly do you think he misses her?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell that he’s still struggling to get over her loss.”
“Does that concern you?”
“Actually, I think it’s nice that he loved her so much. What kind of man would he be if he’d never loved his wife?”
“Not a very good one,” Candy replied, a tad too uncomfortably.
Dana studied her friend. Was that a reference to her ex? If it was, Candy wasn’t saying anything else. And Dana didn’t push her. Instead she said about Eric, “I really hope he agrees to go out with me.”
“What happened to your plan-your-wardrobe-for-tomorrow-night confidence?”
“I guess I’m getting a little nervous that he’ll decline the offer. But I’m still picking out something to wear. My crush on him isn’t going away anytime soon.”
Yogi came into the kitchen and yawned. Apparently she was up from her nap. Dana patted her head. “Hey, sweetie.” The dog wagged her tail and sniffed the canine-cookie air.
“Do you think Eric is a dog person or a cat person?” Candy asked.
“Hmm. Good question. I’d venture to guess cats.” He had a catlike quality about him, warm but still somehow aloof. “You should see him. Tall and dark and chiseled. He’s half Cherokee.”
“How do you know what his heritage is?”
“He wore a Native Pride T-shirt once, and I asked him about it.”
“So that’s one more thing you know about him.”
Dana nodded. “It isn’t much, is it? For a whole year? But I haven’t told him everything about myself, either. Mostly I just refill his water more than I should as an excuse to keep returning to his table.”
“I’ll bet he appreciates you doting on him.”
“He certainly watches me a lot. I can always feel those dark eyes roving over me whenever I walk away.”
“Sounds like a mutual crush.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about him while I was in bed, moaning like a tart.” For the sake of drama, she pulled a vintage Meg Ryan and demonstrated the noises she made.
Candy laughed. “Are you going to tell him that?”
She laughed, too. “Sure? Why not? I’ve been known to say what’s on my mind.” And these days Eric took up a lot of room in her mind. “I’m going to go dig through my closet now.” She wanted to choose an ensemble
