Саманта Сильвер - Just Horsing Around

“Angela,” I replied, not wanting to be rude by refusing to talk to him. I wasn’t a fan of his fairly obvious flirting, and I really just wanted to eat my BLT in peace.

“Are you from around here?” he asked.

“I own the vet clinic down the street.”

“Oh, nice!” he replied, obviously impressed. Or at least pretending to be. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he replied, grabbing his coffee and heading off. I didn’t reply and looked after him, slightly confused.

“What did he mean by ‘We’ll be seeing more of each other?’” I asked, half to myself, half to Betty behind the counter. Her face was grim.

“Haven’t you heard?” she asked.

“Heard what?”

“Matt Smith is some fancy businessman from Portland. Got his MBA from Wharton or something, thinks he knows everything about everything. He wants to buy up a chunk of Main Street and modernize it, bring Willow Bay to the 21 st century or something.”

“Seriously? Does he not understand the concept of small-town charm? You turn downtown into a bunch of soulless white buildings and no one will come here anymore.”

“I know. I’ve told him that, but he’s convinced we’re small town morons who don’t understand how business works.”

Great. Another idiot from the big city who wanted to try and make a profit at our expense. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Luckily, so far Willow Bay had managed to avoid any kind of major changes to the town for a long time. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before this Matt Smith realized how terrible an idea he had and left town for good; the people who tried these sorts of things never stayed long term.

I ordered one of my BLTs and a slice of Betty’s new chocolate pecan cheesecake – which the whole town had been clamouring for ever since Jason broke the news in the Whistler that she was going to be offering it – along with a coffee and sat down at a table in the corner by myself, deciding to spend my lunch people-watching.

A few minutes later Betty brought me my sandwich and coffee, promising to bring the cake along when I finished. It was obvious from looking around that tourist season was well and truly starting. At one of the tables in the other corner was a family whose son was wearing a Seattle Totems minor hockey jacket, a couple of young Japanese tourists were sitting by the window enjoying a slice of cake while comparing photos and a young mother wearing a Portland hotel work uniform was sitting at the counter with her baby, feeding him the occasional bit of the slice of cake she was eating.

Just as I was finished up my sandwich and Betty brought me my slice of cake, an elderly couple sat down next to me and began to speak in another language. They had their guide books out, and I vaguely began to pay attention as they stopped Betty on her way back to the coffee machine.

“Excuse me,” the man asked in halting English.

“Yes?” Betty asked, a smile on her face.

“Kalifornien. How far from here?”

“Where?” Betty asked, confusion forming on her face.

“Kalifornien.”

“California,” I offered helpfully, trying to hide my smile. Betty was the world’s nicest person, but I’d be surprised if she had ever gone further than Seattle before in her life, and she often had trouble with accents. I wasn’t surprised that someone using a foreign word for the state name, no matter how similar it was to the English version, confused her.

“Ah, thanks Angela,” she told me. “Yes, California is five hours by car to the border. San Francisco is ten hours away.”

“Thank you very much,” the woman replied, giving Betty and I both a smile.

“Where are you from, anyway?” Betty asked them kindly.

“We are from Sweden,” the man replied. “Our first trip to Amerikas.”

“Well, enjoy! Have fun,” Betty told them before heading back behind the counter. “Let me know if you have any other questions.” They thanked her profusely and then went back to their guide books as I finished my cake. This was the sort of thing that you couldn’t invent in a town like Willow Bay. Even though she barely understood them, I knew Betty would make every effort to help the Swedish couple figure out what they needed, if they asked her. That was the sort of thing people like Matt Smith didn’t understand: this town had soul . It had spirit. And trying to turn it into a whitewashed modern resort like the ones you saw on TV in places like Hawaii was just not what Willow Bay was about.

Finishing off my cake, I took the plate back to Betty and thanked her.

“No problem! Thanks for the help with that tourist couple.”

“Anytime, Betty. See you later!”

“For sure.”

Checking my watch, I noticed it was still early in the afternoon. I could go home and spend a little bit of time relaxing in front of the TV for a couple of hours before I had to get ready for my date with Jason. Because yeah, that was a thing that was still happening. I didn’t know if I was looking forward to it, or if I was dreading it more than anything I’d ever done. Possibly a little bit of both.

Chapter 13

“You’re wearing that ?” Sophie asked as I came out of my bedroom.

“Seriously? What’s wrong with this?” I asked, looking incredulous.

“I’m with the dog owner on this one,” Bee added unhelpfully.

“What do cats even know about fashion?” I shot at her. I’d decided to go with something simple, but a little bit flirty. A nice pair of dark blue bootcut jeans, with a flowy, pink and flowery hippy top.

“Not slutty enough,” Sophie said. “You want to wear something that says ‘I’ll definitely give it up for you, and possibly tonight, but definitely by date three’.”

“That is not at all what I want my clothing choice to say.”

“Well it should be.”

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t ask you for your advice.”

“Yeah, well, one of us has a little bit more experience than the other in these sorts of things.”

“And one of us hasn’t dated anyone who turned out to be a criminal.”

“Yet! Remember, you thought Jason Black was a murderer.”

“It turned out he wasn’t. If he had been a murderer, I can say with confidence that I would not be going on this date. Which I wasn’t even looking forward to, until now, because at least leaving here means I can leave your judgemental ass behind,” I shot back at Sophie, who laughed.

“Fine, wear the prude outfit. You look good, seriously. You always look good Angela. Go out there and have some fun, ok? You of all people deserve it. And if he ends up being super weird or whatever, at least you’ll get a good story out of it.”

“A good story that I’m sure you’ll never let me forget for as long as I live.”

Sophie beamed. “Exactly.”

I shot Sophie a smile, gave me a quick pat on the head that earned me a scowl and a demand to bring home some Sushi when I was finished putting out, and I grabbed my purse and headed out the door to the first date I was going to have been on in a long, long time.

I got to the Seaside Pub right on time. Jason was already waiting for me; he’d scored a booth out towards the back. My stomach did a little flip-flop as soon as I saw him, which was incredibly annoying. It wasn’t my fault though; his hair had that same just-got-out-of-bed look it always had, and he was smiling, which made his chiselled cheekbones stand out. It wasn’t that I actually liked him, it was just that my body was betraying me in every single way. I made my way over to him, where he already had a beer sitting in front of him, and one for me as well.

“How did you know I liked beer?” I asked, taking a sip of what ended up being an awesome craft beer from Cascade Brewing Company up in Portland.