“Yes. He's nice enough. Come to the kitchen, and I'll get you some lemonade.”
“And good-looking? Didn't you think he was adorable?”
“Adorable, no. But he has a nice smile.” Too nice, Micah thought
“Come on, Micah. Lighten up! Rob Granston is the man for you, and I've known it since the day I met him. He did such a great job of handling the purchase of my tanning and hair salon—”
“I know, I know,” Micah stated with a laugh. “I think you've mentioned that a time or two.”
“And he's handsome and intelligent and funny and successful—”
“Okay, what is this? A commercial?”
“He's nearly perfect, Micah. I'd be interested in him myself if I didn't think of you every time I saw him. I'd feel like I was trying to take something away from you,” Carole explained. “And think of what a strange chain of events has brought you two together! Maybe this is God's plan for your life. Isn't that what you're always looking for?”
“Really, Carole,” Micah began as she pulled a pitcher from the refrigerator. “I think I can figure out God's plan for me, and I don't think it will be revealed through car accidents and appointments with attorneys. Be serious.”
“I am. I mean, who would have thought that ‘Old Yeller’ would finally crash into some poor, unsuspecting soul, and you're the only witness!”
“I really wasn't a witness,” she said as she retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. “I saw very little. I told Mrs. Winslow that very thing the night of the accident when she asked for my name and address, and I told the same thing to Mr. Granston this afternoon.” She dropped several ice cubes into each glass.
“Mr. Granston? Come on, Micah. His name is Rob.”
“And her name is Mrs. Winslow, not Old Yeller.” Micah reminded her friend as she handed her a glass of lemonade.
“Don't get self-righteous on me. You've called her Old Yeller plenty of times yourself when you've seen her coming.”
“That was before I found out her name and before she ended up in the hospital with an injured back. She's no longer just the terrible driver of that big yellow car. She's a real person with real aches and pains and real problems—”
“And a real cute lawyer,” Carole added before taking a sip of her drink.
Micah sat down at the kitchen table and tasted the lemonade she had poured for herself. “Anyway, I told Mr. Granston—”
“Rob. His name is Rob.”
“We didn't get that friendly,” Micah insisted. “You're the one who's dated him.”
“A very casual luncheon date. Nothing to be jealous of.”
“Jealous!” Micah exclaimed. “I'm not—”
“Listen, I've gotta go,” Carole interrupted. “I've gotta be back at the shop for a seven-o'clock shampoo and set.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Thanks for the lemonade. I'm sorry you and Rob didn't get off to a better start.”
“There's nothing to start, Carole. I made an appointment like the letter requested, I answered his questions and left his office. End of story.”
“That's what you think,” Carole responded emphatically as she waved a quick goodbye before adding, “if I have my way, this is only the beginning.”
“Meet me there at noon.”
“Carole, I have a ton of work to do. Are you sure we can be in and out of that place in an hour?” Micah held the telephone receiver between her shoulder and ear, wiping flour-covered hands on a dishcloth as she spoke to her friend.
“Positive,” came Carole's quick response. “It's a good restaurant. Great food, fast service.”
“Okay,” Micah answered. Baking needed to be done and her neglected painting stared at her from the corner of the workshop, but she was getting hungry. “We'll need to hurry.”
“No problem. Everyone in there will probably be in a hurry. Lots of business and professional people from downtown eat their lunches there. Lots of them.”
“You're late,” Carole observed aloud as Micah rushed into the crowded restaurant lobby over an hour later.
“I know, I know.” Micah adjusted her skirt and blouse quickly. “I had to wait for the pies to come out of the oven.”
“Pies?”
“Shepherd?” The hostess summoned them. “Party of two?”
“Yes,” they replied simultaneously.
“You gave my name?” Micah asked.
“I always do when I make reservations for us. Shepherd is easier to spell than Zabotrowski.”
They followed the hostess, weaving their way around tables, small and large, toward a booth along the wall. They slid into their seats and each received a menu.
“Would you like something from the bar?” the hostess inquired.
“No, I don't drink,” Micah answered.
Carole shook her head. She did not care for anything, either.
They were assured their waitress would be along in a moment to take their orders and were left to review the menu.
“All you need to say is, ‘No thanks,’ Micah. You don't need to tell every hostess in central Ohio that you don't drink,” Carole muttered. “Surely God doesn't expect that from you. I mean, it's not even one of the Ten Commandments. Now, tell me, why were you baking pies?”
“For the school bake sale tomorrow. The kids are trying to raise money for a trip to Washington, D.C.”
“Everyone? The whole school?”
“Just the fourth and fifth grades will be going. That is, if they can raise the money.” Micah closed the menu. “I think I'll have a salad and a bowl of vegetable soup.”
“Well, I'm starving so I'm going to have the turkey-bacon club, a side salad and… what kind of pies did you bake?”
“Apple, but they're for the school,” Micah reminded her friend.
“Then I suppose I'll order some dessert.”
“Unless you want to buy one for a donation. Of course, I don't know how good they'll be. I haven't baked since last year—”
“Christmas, maybe? Remember? You baked two pumpkin pies at the cabin that weekend?”
“Oh, those.” Micah covered her face with a hand. “Don't remind me.”
“They weren't that bad. We ate them.”
“We had to. It was either that or no dessert,” Micah recalled.
“Well they might have been better if you had used the frozen crusts like I suggested.” Carole placed her menu on the table.
“I really wanted to bake my own pies, Carole. Taking something out of the freezer and putting it into the oven, it just doesn't seem right calling it your own.”
“Why not? I do it every evening. Out of the freezer and into the microwave. Beef Stroganoff, chipped beef, chicken A la king…”
“That's different.”
“So how much for a pie? I mean, even if it's not