Page 38 of Hearts Aweigh
“S TILL THINK I’ M CRAZY ?” E MILY inclined her head toward the couple at the rail. “Spencer’s working overtime to mend fences.” She looked at Daisy. “You know your son better than anyone. Is this how he normally behaves?”
“I must admit”—Daisy studied him—“I’ve never seen him so considerate of someone else’s opinion.”
“Yep,” Althea said. “The boy’s smitten.”
Daisy sighed. “Perhaps we could consider taking a personal relationship between them under advisement.”
“Yes!” Emily clasped her hands and shook them.
“Let’s draw up a battle plan. Should we set Abby up with a random person to prod Spencer out of his comfort zone?
” She opened her binder and scanned the list of names.
“Who would be a good decoy match? Someone who won’t be hurt when it doesn’t work out. ”
“I don’t follow,” Gerry said. “How is sending Abby on a throwaway date going to help the situation?”
“I’m surprised at you.” Emily flicked the novel laying on the table. “Isn’t one of your favorite story tropes about fake relationships? Since Daisy has given us her blessing to arrange her son and Abby, it’s time to make Spencer jealous.”
“I didn’t exactly give my blessing,” Daisy objected.
“I said we might take it under advisement. Spencer’s sudden return seems to involve more than just me, and I can’t ignore the truth.
It’s obvious the two share an attraction, but I’m still not convinced the match is advantageous. Especially for Abby.”
Gerry waved her book under Emily’s nose. “You also don’t grasp how the fake dating angle works. Both people are supposed to be aware their relationship is phony. In your scenario, Abby would have no clue her date was a red herring.”
“And what about the doctor?” Althea chewed on her smoothie straw. “We chose him after five hours of debate. Are we gonna forget about him?”
“Dr. Grant is a wonderful candidate,” Emily said, “but the age difference is more than we normally recommend.”
“Fourteen years?” Althea shrugged. “That’s nothing. My third husband was seventeen years younger than me. He didn’t mind.”
Emily suppressed the frustration rising like a tide. “Do you believe the doc is a better fit for Abby than Spencer?”
“No,” said Gerry.
“Nah,” said Althea.
Daisy didn’t answer either way.
Emily relaxed in her chair. “Then we don’t want to waste a wonderful candidate like Dr. Grant and lose his trust. How about a token date for Abby to go on tonight? Let’s choose someone who won’t take it too seriously.”
“Pick Barney,” Gerry suggested. “Even though he was too scared of Everson to check the footage when we asked, we shouldn’t hold that against him. He’s friendly with everyone. I bet he wouldn’t get too invested in one date.”
“Good idea.” Emily pulled out her phone. “I’ll text him and ask if he’s interested.”
Fifteen seconds later, her cell dinged. She read his response and chuckled. “Looks like Barney hasn’t been on a date in a while. He says he can be ready in five minutes.”
“Excuse me.” Rufus, the waiter, stood above them with his drink tray. “The bartender asked me to deliver a note to Mrs. Masterson.”
The four Shippers stiffened. He slipped a black envelope off his tray, handed it to Daisy, and left. She gave an audible gulp.
“Should we grill the bartender?” Althea rose from her seat.
“Why?” Gerry said. “You know it’ll be the same setup. Passed from one employee to another, and no one saw who it came from.”
“I agree.” Emily thumped a fist on the table. “No sense wasting our energy.”
“Honey”—Althea rested a hand on Daisy’s taut arm—“you want us to leave you alone while you read it?”
Daisy sighed. “No, thank you. Y’all must already suspect the worst.” She slipped a manicured fingernail under the flap and withdrew the thick card inside. Her eyes jerked as she read.
Gerry leaned forward. “What does it say?”
Daisy’s lips quivered as she passed the note to Emily.
Emily made sure no one was standing close enough to hear, then read aloud, “‘Your beloved son returns. Pay up or confess the whole affair. Your choice.’”
“Just once,” Daisy whispered. “Forty-two years ago. God forgive me.” A sob racked her delicate frame.
Althea gathered Daisy up with soft murmurs and stroked her back. Gerry reached across the table to rub her arm.
Emily remained in her seat, jaw tight. “Girls, it’s time to stop being so polite. Let’s find out who’s sending these notes and nail the creep.”