Close to You

crinkles at the corner
of his eyes. Someone hadn’t told him he should wear
sunglasses.
    She wondered what else he was missing
in his life, and how long he’d been missing it. Was he like
her?
    He wasn’t. She could answer that with
certainty. Whatever path he’d walked on, whatever Fate had thrown
his way, he’d come out on top. He was the victor.
    She hadn’t even tried to win. At the
first sign of adversity, she’d simply curled into a ball and stayed
there for years.
    Reaching into her pocket, she pulled
out his card. She’d carried it around with her like a schoolgirl
since that night she’d seen him in Whole Foods.
    She shouldn’t call him.
    She picked up the phone, the fever
riding her. He wanted her for some reason. She had no idea why.
There had to be any number of women out there who would be suited
to him. He was handsome, fit, smart, and apparently successful.
There had to be hoards of women in her age bracket who’d suit him
better than a dried up, husk of a woman.
    She was tired of being dead.
    She stared at the card.
    Heart pounding, she dialed the number
on the card. At the first ring, she hung up.
    It rang back a moment later, the
number on caller ID the same as what she dialed.
    Grant.
    She stared at it, unable to breathe.
She cautiously answered it. “Hello?”
    The sound of wind filled her ear, and
then a deep voice said, “Margaret, is that you? Did you call
me?”
    She gripped her pearls. “No, I did
not.”
    “ But I got a call from this
number.” He sounded amused. “Who else would it have
been?”
    “ Not me.” She hung up and
step away from the phone, feeling like it might come to life and
chase her.
    Half an hour later, she’d barely
gotten her equilibrium back when the front door opened. A man’s
silhouette stood shadowed in the threshold.
    She didn’t have to look twice to know
who it was. Hand at her throat, holding her pearls, she watched
Grant walk toward her. Her chest heaved with the effort of
breathing, and she broke out in a sweat across her
forehead.
    “ Margaret.” He smiled at
her, taking her hand in both of his. “I’m happy you
called.”
    Swallowing a couple times, she finally
found her voice. “How did you find me?”
    “ I had the call traced.” He
stared at her deadpan, but then he grinned. “No, I just used *69,
and then I asked the operator for the address of the
business.”
    “ Oh.” She blinked. She
should have felt violated or something. Angry at least, but she was
only relieved he was here. She waited for guilt to set in, but
there was nothing but peace. She blinked, surprised she recognized
what it felt like.
    Grant leaned toward her. “Invite me to
sit down,” he whispered loudly.
    “ Yes.” She nodded briskly
and hand still in his led him to a table away from the other
customers. She felt Tanya’s questioning gaze on them but ignored
it. She was the boss here. She didn’t have to explain why she was
holding a strange man’s hand.
    It felt good too. Strong.
Confident.
    She motioned him to sit down. “What
can I get you? Are you hungry?”
    “ I doubt what I want is on
the menu, but I’d love some tea.” He looked at her imploringly.
“You’ll join me?”
    She hated tea, and she didn’t sit with
customers, but she found herself nodding. Without a word she went
into the kitchen.
    Her cook and the dishwasher
froze.
    Ignoring their stunned stares, she
pulled one of the china teapots from the shelf and began preparing
a tea. Because men were always hungry, she took several finger
sandwiches that her cook had prepared in advance. Roast beef with
horseradish as well as prosciutto with pesto.
    She felt the weight of her employees’
curiosity on her back, but she paid no heed. She owned this place,
after all. She could assemble a tea if she wanted.
    Placing everything on a tray, she
carried it out to Grant.
    He brightened visibly when he saw her.
Then he brightened even more when he saw the food. “You’re an
angel. How did you know I was hungry?”
    Men were always hungry in her
experience. It’d been so long since she’d fed one
though.
    Sitting, she poured them both tea,
sipping hers as she watched him enjoy the sandwiches. He smiled at
her. “Delicious.”
    She smiled faintly, feeling her face
tight with the unfamiliar expression.
    Picking up his teacup, which looked
ridiculous in his masculine hand, he said, “How long have you owned
this shop?”
    “ You think I own
it?”
    “ Of course you own it. It
has your