Layla sighed. “He’s very…nice.” What else could she say about Kyle? He was smart, successful, good-looking. Their conversations flowed without pretense or awkwardness; they had from the first date. It was almost as if they were too honest with each other. She’d felt comfortable confronting him about his lack of Thanksgiving plans to travel without her. Well, until he told her he didn’t want to talk about it. If Layla imagined the perfect partner, Kyle might be near the top.
“When will you see each other again?”
Layla unbuckled her belt. “We haven’t set anything up. But we talk. All the time.” Well, maybe notallthe time.
Marybelle let out a breath, seemingly satisfied.
Layla had a thought. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
She wasn’t about to invite herself to a dinner with strangers, but if by chance Marybelle hosted something at her place, maybe Layla could help. The more she thought about it after talking with Kyle, the more she didn’t want to be alone on Thanksgiving.
“Probably putting one of those frozen turkey dinners in the oven. Maybe ordering myself a pie from that lady who sells them out of her home on Highway 23.”
“Claire Orr, right?”
“Yes, that’s her.” Marybelle adjusted her glasses and looked through the side window. “Not too many people around that want to eat dinner with an old lady anymore.”
This surprised her. “Kyle said you already had plans though.”
She blew air from her lips. “As much as I love him, and don’t get me wrong, he does a lot for me, sometimes he’s a little clueless. I only told him that because he told me about his ski trip first.” Marybelle touched her arm. “I didn’t want to make him feel guilty for going.”
Layla couldn’t stand the thought of Marybelle eating a frozen turkey dinner alone. “Let’s celebrate together. I’ll pick up a little turkey and some other things. You get the pie.”
“You don’t have plans either? What about your family?”
Layla waved her off. “They’re coming on Saturday. It’ll just be me.”
Marybelle looked visibly relieved. “That sounds heavenly. Pumpkin or apple-cranberry?”
“You pick. I love both.” Layla pulled her bag from the backseat. “We should hurry to get a table. All this talk about food has made me ravenous.”
Marybelle opened her door. “Yes. Then we can talk more about you two lovebirds.”
“Marybelle, we’re not—”
Marybelle put up a hand to stop her. She looked at Layla over her glasses.
“That’s your empty belly talking. Andthat,” she said, pointing to the billboard.
Layla gave the bulletin board one last glance. Brant’s cocky grin seemed to broaden.
He was an ice cream sundae, all right.
Her stomach growled as if on cue.
Chapter Sixteen
Afew days later, Layla sat on the couch in her studio, sampling the new tea that she ordered for the store with Sheila. The woman made a surprise visit earlier to bring a thank-you gift—one of her woven wall hangings that Layla openly coveted on her last trip to Sheila’s home. Next to Layla, her phone rested on the side table with a few text messages and a call from Kyle. Her mother had also called. The shop had been so busy, she’d had no time to reply.
Sheila looked toward the now darkened window. “I should go. Chuck will be worried about me driving after dark.”
They rose from the couch and she took Sheila’s empty mug. “Thank you so much for the gift. I’ll cherish it forever.”
“You saved me hours of aggravation with the decorating advice,” Sheila said as she buttoned her coat. “Besides, I love the idea of my work hanging in my friends’ houses.” Sheila gave her a hug, catching her a little off guard.
“I’m going to find a very special spot for it.” She held it at arm’s length, marveling at Sheila’s use of color and texture. A few of her clients would pay a nice price for these. But Sheila only made them because the process brought her joy. Parting with them felt akin to “giving away pieces of my heart,” she’d told Layla.
“I’ll probably be in after Thanksgiving to see what you’ve done for Christmas,” Sheila said.
