“Exactly my point.”
“I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It’s not like I ever had a chance with someone like her, friend or otherwise. I’m the one you hang out with on the way up and then ditch once you get there.”
“Daph,” he said, softening his tone. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re cool enough for anybody, your narcissistic ex aside. This one’s probably straight anyway.”
Daphne shrugged. “I thought I picked up a vibe from her. But even if I did get my wires crossed, that has nothing to do with being friends with someone. We bonded over antiques.”
Pascale shrugged as he tossed his container into the trash. “What do you need more friends for? You got me and the old lady. Between the two of us, we’ll go antiquing with you.”
She smirked at him knowingly. “You only go with me when you’re single, hoping to meet lonely, divorced MILFs. When you have a girl, you just tell me to borrow your truck.”
He gave her a guilty smile.
“As for Sophie, I love her to death, and she’s my bestie and all, but let’s face it—an eighty-two-year-old isn’t exactly wingman material.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “But I don’t think this one is either.”
As much as she didn’t want it to be true, Daphne had a feeling Pascale was on to something. In truth, she’d dodged a bullet—nothing good ever came out of befriending attractive straight women.
But she would’ve loved to take her chances with this one.
* * *
Daphne pulled into her driveway after work, looking forward to another evening of Netflix streaming and a food-delivery service. What a great time to be alive. So what if that had become more the rule than an exception? Barbecue ribs, cornbread, and an unlimited supply of dramatic series to binge until she fell asleep on her sofa. What else did a woman need? It was Nina’s loss. When it came to antiques, Daphne sniffed them out better than anyone.
When she got out of the car, Sophie called her over from her porch.
“Have you heard from her?” Sophie asked, holding open her screen door.
“No, and I’m not going to either, so can we just forget it? You guys asking me about it every day makes her blowing me off even more depressing.”
“I have something that’ll cheer you up.” She opened the door wider and tilted her head for Daphne to come in.
Daphne flapped her hands against her thighs. “Sophie, if you keep trying to fill the emptiness in my life with food, they’re going to need a forklift to remove me from my house someday.”
“Shut up and follow me.” Sophie led her into the kitchen. She opened her refrigerator and took out a small red box. “This came for you today, but the driver couldn’t leave it on your porch in this warm weather.”
“Aww, Sophie, are you trying to cheer me up sending me chocolate-covered strawberries from a fake secret admirer?”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to send something like this.”
“Then who did?” Daphne gasped. “You don’t think…”
“Read the card and find out, for Pete’s sake.”
Daphne tore it open and read it aloud. “‘Thanks again. Let’s go antiquing some time.’” As she looked up, her smile felt like it was about to leap clear off her face. “She gave me her phone number.”
“Call her. Now.” Sophie picked up the phone on her wall and thrust it at her.
“What? Get out of here,” Daphne said, struggling to wrench the receiver from Sophie’s hand. “I’m not calling her. Nobody calls, especially from a landline. I’ll text her, but not now.”
“Why not? She’s interested in you, and you’re interested in her. You better let her know you feel the same.”
“Simmer down, Sophie. She’s interested in antiquing, not me. And that’s fine. I have to go home and think about what to say before I text her.”
“Think? What’s to think about? ‘The strawberries are delicious’ and ‘yes’ and then press send. Even I can do that.”
Daphne bit into a juicy chocolate-covered strawberry and offered the box to Sophie. “I’m too nervous. Let me go home, have a glass of wine, and then I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” Sophie said. “Call me as soon as you talk to her.”
After giving Sophie another strawberry, Daphne walked home and tried to settle the butterflies flitting around her stomach with a glass of chardonnay.
She sat on her sofa with her phone resting on the cushion next to her. Before composing the text, she warned herself not to build her hopes too high. Whether Nina was straight or a lesbian, she needed to understand this was about a friendship and nothing more. Now that she’d finally processed her breakup with Savannah (funny how her marrying someone else helped accelerate that process), she needed to widen her social circle beyond her eccentric coworker, Pascale, and her octogenarian neighbor—not that she didn’t love them both and value their friendships.
Since breaking up with Savannah after spending her entire adult life with her, she had been missing the companionship she would have with a woman who was more of a contemporary and shared similar life experiences. And Nina seemed like the ideal person to pursue that type of relationship with.
By the end of the glass of chard, she was ready to compose, read it back a dozen times, and finally press send.
* * *
As soon as Nina got home from work and picking up Noah from her mom’s, she headed upstairs to her bedroom to change out of her pantsuit into comfy sweats. She turned on the lamp on her nightstand, noting again how she needed to have the frayed cord repaired and smiled at the golden glow coming through the glass. She loved the unique style of the lamp and how the glass appeared cracked, giving it an antique look. She chuckled, picturing her grandmother saying something like, “You bloody well better not lose it again, eh?” She then wondered if Daphne was enjoying her thank-you gift.
Noah came in and dove on her bed. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“I have pulled pork in the slow cooker. Ready to eat?”
“Yes. I’m starving,” he said and walked over to examine the lamp.
“Doesn’t it look good here next to my bed?”
He nodded. “I’m glad I helped you get it back.”
“Me, too.” She tickled under his chin. “I sent that nice lady, Daphne, some chocolate-covered strawberries to thank her. What do you think?”
He nodded again. “You should take her for waffles and French toast.”
Nina laughed at his cute suggestion. “Oh, yes. That’s the proper way to show gratitude to somebody. I guess the strawberries were a fail?”
“No, but I’d like to be thanked with waffles. No, hang on. Cinnamon French toast.”
“Then I’m definitely taking you out for it this weekend. Your thank-you is long overdue. Does Saturday morning work for you?”
“Yes,” he said with a fist pump.
“Excellent.”
“You can ask Daphne to come, too, if you want,” Noah said.
She laughed again. “You have the kindest soul. Come on. Let’s get some food in you.”