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  Helena met her eyes. “Seriously. Call Tate.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll keep digging through this, see if I can make heads or tails of it first. If I can’t . . .”

  “Do you have book club tonight?”

  “No.” Her “book club” had first been a cover for her trips to Mobile to see her therapist and then for that self-defense class she took. Why she’d felt the need to hide it, even from Helena, she had no idea. This wasn’t Fuller, and people weren’t keeping tabs on her.

  “You haven’t been in a long time.”

  “It kind of fizzled out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Let me know if you want to start one up here. My brain could use the exercise.”

  Helena wanted to join a book club. She really was settling in. Molly laughed. “Talk to me after Memorial Day, okay?”

  “So if you’re not busy tonight, why don’t you come to Grannie’s for dinner?” Helena offered. “Grannie knows everything about everything, so between the three of us—and Ryan, too—I’m sure we can figure it all out.”

  Sometimes she forgot that this wasn’t Fuller, and she wasn’t on her own anymore. She had a posse—however small. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Helena waved good-bye and nearly sprinted out the door.

  Molly felt a little better. Ms. Louise would be an excellent—and obvious, now that Helena mentioned it—source of advice. And if the three of them couldn’t get it figured out . . . well, she would just suck it up and call Tate.

  She’d sworn to never sacrifice her pride again, but failure wasn’t an option.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  • • •

  “I have been brought here under false pretenses,” Tate protested to Helena. “I was promised food.”

  He’d been a little surprised at Helena’s sudden dinner invitation, but he was beginning to regret accepting it. She was his best friend, and he adored her, but friendship had its limits, and surprise grill assembly was definitely crossing that line.

  “Oh, I’ll feed you,” Helena said, standing over him with a screwdriver in one hand and a drink in the other. “But I can’t cook it until you put the grill together.”

  “And why isn’t Ryan doing this?”

  “He was supposed to, but there was an emergency at the Kaufmans’. He’s been there all day with Colby.”

  Tate snorted. “An emergency? Right.” Ryan was a general contractor, for God’s sake. “What? The cabinets don’t match the crown molding?”

  “They had a bad water leak. Their ceiling is now on their floor.” She shook her head, trying to shame him. “They have eighteen-month-old twins, Tate. He has to at least get their house in a livable condition.”

  So now he felt like an ass. But he was hungry and needed three E-17s to connect to the regulator thingamajig and nothing in the pile looked like an E-17. He’d been working on this for over an hour now, and the actual cooking of food was starting to look like a pipe dream. They’d all starve long before then. “Call for pizza. On me,” he offered.

  The screen door slammed and Molly came down the steps onto the patio. “Helena, Ms. Louise needs you inside.” Then she looked at the pieces of what should have been a grill, and an eyebrow winged up. “This does not bode well.”

  “I offered to spring for pizza,” he said.

  “You’re a well-educated man,” Helena said with a sigh. “All that schoolin’ and you can’t put together a grill?”

  “I’ll remind you that I’m a veterinarian. Does any part of this look like a Labrador retriever to you?”

  Helena shrugged. “Well, maybe Molly can help you figure it out. I’m going to go see what Grannie wants.”

  “I’d be willing to go halfsies on the pizza,” Molly muttered as she knelt next to the mess of parts and frowned. “I can’t help but notice that Helena isn’t trying to put this together.”

  “That’s because Helena couldn’t put two Legos together and she knows it.”

  Molly laughed and picked up the instructions. “That’s mean.”

  “But true.”

  “Who wrote these instructions?” The laugh gave way to a frown. “Is this even English?”

  “I need three of these,” he said, pointing to the picture of E-17. “Do you see anything that looks remotely like it?”

  Molly gamely joined him in sifting through the pile. “Not really,” she finally admitted. “Wait, this might be it.”

  “Nope. I’ve already tried that. It’s an E-19.”

  “Well, hell,” she muttered and pushed her hair out of her face. He’d noticed that when she wasn’t at Latte Dah, Molly let her blond curls roam free, and without the restraint of her headband, a rogue lock fell right back to its previous position. It was cute, and it made her look younger than he knew she was. “What about this one?” she offered.

  “Nope.”

  “Darn.” As Molly sorted, she made little organized piles, something he’d given up on twenty minutes earlier out of frustration. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair, and they pulled together as she compared and then rejected each piece. They worked in silence for a few minutes, and it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, but he felt he needed to say something.

  “How’s Nigel?”

  “Fat and sassy,” she answered, same as she always did. The fact he knew that probably meant he needed to come up with something new to ask her. He searched for a different topic. “I hear you’re taking over the Children’s Fair.”

  Molly made an odd snort-like sound, but when he looked up, her face was calm except for a slight twitch of the corner of her mouth. “News travels fast.”

  “So it’s going well?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “As well as could be expected.”

  “Meaning?”

  Molly hesitated. “Mrs. K didn’t leave very clear instructions as to what was happening. I’m still sorting through it all, trying to figure it out.”

  Understanding dawned. “Now I know why Helena suddenly invited me to dinner tonight.” Not that I’ll ever get to eat. “And here I thought the false pretense was the grill.”

  “I didn’t know this was her plan. She invited me over saying she, I, and Ms. Louise could brainstorm and figure it all out.” There was an apology in Molly’s big coffee-colored eyes. “She never said she’d be dragging you into this.”

  “I believe you. This is just typical of Helena.” He sighed. “So what’s the problem?”

  Molly seemed to be debating with herself. “I’m in way over my head,” she finally confessed.

  I’m going to regret asking this . . . “How so?”

  “Honestly, I can’t make heads or tails of Mrs. K’s notes. I’ve never even been to one of the Children’s Fairs, so I don’t have a clue what’s even supposed to happen there.”

  He’d agreed to serve on Mrs. K’s “committee” in the first place only because it was really a committee of one, and Mrs. K micromanaged every detail. At the same time, there was an edge of desperation in Molly’s voice that was impossible to ignore. And since the thing had been dumped on her without warning, he’d have to be a real ass to not at least offer what assistance he could. “I can meet you tomorrow if you’d like, and see if I can help sort it out and point you in the right direction. I confess I’m mainly a rubber stamp for Mrs. K, but I do have a basic understanding of how it all works.”

  “That would be awesome.” The relief that crossed her face as the tension left her shoulders made him feel like Superman saving the day. “Come to Latte Dah? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee . . .”

  “I’ll have to double-check my schedule at the clinic, but maybe around ten or so?”

  “I’m available at your convenience. You’re doing me the favor, after all.”

  He rolled his eyes at their current project. “Well, I’ll owe you since you’re helping with this.”

  To his surprise, Molly dropped the piece she was holding and dramatically dusted off her hands. �
�Oh, screw this. I’m going to declare that piece E-17 does not exist, therefore this grill is not going to be put together today. Helena can cook chicken breasts in the oven the way God and the creators of kitchen appliances intended us to do.”

  He laughed. “All-righty, then.”

  “Unless . . .” she backtracked.

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless your ego is caught up in this now and you have something you need to prove by completing it.”

  Molly was clever. Even if his ego had been invested, there’d be no way to admit that now without sounding like a complete tool. “Not in the least,” he assured her. “Ryan can deal with this mess.”

  “Good.” She pushed to her feet and dusted off the seat of her jeans. “I’m going to go give Helena our verdict.”

  He wasn’t going to argue with that. Chivalry didn’t include sacrificing his head to Helena when Molly was willing to take one for the team. Friendship had its boundaries.

  Helena and Molly were an odd pair. Molly was sweet and sunny and perky, and Helena was . . . well, she was none of those things. Helena had sharp edges to her personality and could be downright prickly, whereas he’d never seen Molly with anything other than a smile on her face. What they had in common, he didn’t know, and how they managed to get along so well was beyond him, but he was glad to see Helena with a girlfriend for once. And while most people were still a little afraid to get on Helena’s bad side, it seemed odd that perky little Molly was not cowed by Helena at all.

  He put the grill parts back into the box and made it back onto the porch about the same time Helena came outside. “Quitter,” she said, shaking her head at him in disappointment.

  “I gave it my best shot. Your poor planning isn’t my fault.”

  “Poor planning?”

  “Waiting until it’s time to cook before making sure you have something to cook on? Tsk-tsk, Helena. Bad hostess.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t get the party-planning gene.”

  “Are you sure you’re Southern?” he said in mock horror as he collapsed onto the swing.

  “Bite me.” She nudged him aside and sat as well, putting the swing in motion. “So how’s life? I barely get to see you these days.”

  “Busy, same as yours, which is why we barely get to see each other.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came tonight.” She cut her eyes at him. “Even if you can’t put together a simple grill.”

  “It’s missing pieces,” he reminded her. “That’s not my fault.”

  “It turns out I forgot to get a propane tank anyway, so . . .”

  Good Lord. “It’s a good thing I gave up, then, or I would’ve had to kill you.”

  Not the least bit scared of that possibility, Helena waved a hand dismissively. “Molly already read me the riot act about that, so you don’t have to. But dinner should be ready soonish. Grannie was precooking the chicken anyway.”

  God bless Ms. Louise. “Should we be helping?”

  Helena shook her head. “You know how Grannie feels about men in her kitchen. That’s why she sent me out here to talk to you.”

  “You’re going to make your grandmother and Molly cook our dinner?”

  Sighing, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “They both like cooking. And Molly’s much better at it than I am anyway. And,” she added primly, “it would be rude to leave a guest alone to entertain himself.”

  “Most people consider it rude to invite a guest over under false pretenses.”

  “I’ve apologized for the grill.”

  “I meant Molly and the Children’s Fair.”

  Completely unrepentant, Helena shrugged. “Molly didn’t feel comfortable asking you, and you’d have said no if I asked you, so I just gave you the chance to make it your idea to help her out.”

  “What would you have done if I told her no?”

  She snorted. “Like that was even a possibility.”

  He looked at her. “I have no urgent desire to work on the Children’s Fair.”

  “I know that, but I also know that you can’t resist the chance to rescue a damsel in distress.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Don’t even try to deny it,” she interrupted. “It’s sweet, really. But it makes you easier to play than ‘Chopsticks.’”

  He was tempted to prove her wrong, but that wouldn’t be fair to Molly. “Such Machiavellian maneuverings.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helena biting back a smile. “Oh Lord, what now?”

  “Nothing.”

  She was up to something and it worried him. “What?”

  “Let’s change the subject,” she said, a little too brightly. “So . . . how’s your love life?”

  “Just great. Thanks. And yours?” The answer and the tone were intentionally noncommittal.

  “The same, of course,” she answered flatly. “You seeing anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, she elbowed him. “And why not?”

  “Between the clinic, my family, and the rest of my life, there’s not a lot of time.” That wasn’t a lie, and it was a convenient, if not terribly pleasant, truth.

  “But you want to. Date, that is.”

  While phrased as a statement, it was obviously a question. And a very loaded one, by the tone of her voice. “What exactly are you asking me, Helena?”

  She hesitated in a very un-Helena-like manner, which immediately put him on guard. Pausing the swing, she turned to face him. “I think you should ask Molly out.”

  It could have been worse. “Why?”

  “Because Molly’s great.”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  “So . . . ?” Helena prompted.

  He nudged her foot, releasing its hold on the porch, and set the swing in motion again. “I’ve decided not to date locally.”

  “So it’s a location thing?” Her brow wrinkled as she looked at him. Then she shook her head. “That’s just stupid. Or are the ladies in Magnolia Beach just not good enough for you?”

  “It’s because I’ve got enough exes in this town already.”

  “Three.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have three exes—at least serious ones: Jennie Daws, Tamara Chin, and Kara Moseby. I don’t know about any flings. If you’ve had any lately, you must have been very discreet.”

  No one could give him a headache quite the way Helena could. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And your point?”

  “One, it’s not like you’re a player with a trail of brokenhearted women, and two, why are exes such a bad thing? Everyone knows everyone else’s business anyway.”

  That was part of the problem, but it was a fact of life in Magnolia Beach. “It’s a little different when you’ve been emotionally involved with someone.”

  Helena sat up straighter. “Are you telling me one or more of them broke your heart? Who? I’ll kill her for you.”

  “Down, girl. My heart’s in one piece, and the breakups were amicable enough.” He shrugged again. “I just don’t like to be reminded of my failures.”

  “A failed relationship does not make anyone a failure,” Helena said, indignant on his behalf.

  “It’s still awkward as hell.”

  “You’re so sweet, Tate.” She patted his knee. “But you need to get back out there. Otherwise, I might start thinking you’re still hung up on me.”

  “You wish.” Helena merely grinned at him. “Seriously, get over yourself.” He’d told himself last fall that he had to give it a shot. That he’d owed it to his teenage self to finally make a move on Helena, just to see. He now wished he’d ignored that impulse, even if the true surprise had been how wrong he’d been about his feelings all those years. He was glad that Helena had turned him down—though it had stung at the time—but now he wondered whether he’d ever live it down. “I’ve known you for over twenty-five years. In all that time, I made one pass at you. That’s hardly a reason for even you to think I’ve got some unreq
uited passion going.”

  “True.” She thought for a moment, then frowned at him. “You know, that’s kind of insulting, now that I think about it.”

  He patted her shoulder. “You definitely need to work on that ‘getting over yourself’ thing.”

  “So ask Molly out, then. There’s no better way to force me to get over myself than by taking out my best girlfriend,” she challenged.

  “Iona would make my life miserable,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  He was not going to try to explain that to Helena right now. “Nothing. Anyway, when would I find time to date? I can only barely manage to fit seeing you—my best friend—into my schedule.”

  “You don’t find time, you make time, doofus.”

  “Helena . . .”

  “You two have so much in common, and I think you’d be great together.”

  “I’m aware you think that.”

  As terrible as this conversation was, it was almost worth it to see Helena’s confused and embarrassed reaction to that statement. “Really?”

  “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. You’ve dropped hints before—not that you needed to. On New Year’s Eve you couldn’t talk about much else. And then you practically threw Molly into my arms at midnight.”

  “Oh.” Helena looked a bit sheepish. “I don’t remember that.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Everything after about ten thirty is a bit blurry,” she confessed. “Molly’s never mentioned it, though.”

  “Since you had me backed into a corner for the better part of an hour, I doubt you had much time to give her the same rundown of how great we would be together. In fact, she seemed a bit shocked at your demand I kiss her.”