Must-Have Husband

Nine

    Six weeks later, Hank sunned himself on a rock while Mac stared stoically ahead.
    “I really appreciate you inviting me on this little excursion. It’s been just like camping with a corpse.”
    “You don’t know what it’s been like, losing her.” He appeared wistful a moment. “It’s just like Chance.”
    Hank lifted his head to look at him. “You mean like fate?”
    “No, my yellow lab. I lost him in the woods when I was nine and never saw him again.”
    “Man, that’s heartbreaking. In fact, that’s got to be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    Mac stared at him poignantly.
    “Up until now. This thing with Connie. It’s much worse.”
    Mac sighed, surveying the forest.
    Hank sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. “Have you tried calling?”
    “Dozens of times.”
    “What does she say?”
    “That some things can’t be undone, that’s what.”
    “Well, maybe she’s right.” Mac turned toward him. “You did cause quite a nasty scene with her family. Maybe you should have shot that bird.”
    “Thanks, Hank.”
    “I mean it. If that little snitch hadn’t squawked—”
    “The whole thing would have unraveled anyway.”
    Hank hated seeing his friend like this, all down and defeated. “How long do you suppose it’ll be before you snap out of it?”
    “Forever. Why?”
    “Because…” he said, drawing out the word. “Candy and I are going to a movie this weekend—”
    “Candy? You’re dating a woman named Candy? Get real.” He shot Hank a grin. “What is she? Sweet on you?”
    “Great! You’re feeling better. Being Mr. Smarty-pants.”
    Mac shook his head.
    “So you’ll join us, then?”
    “Who?”
    “Me and Candy… And her friend—”
    “No.”
    “Come on, man.”
    “No way.”
    “Just one date.”
    “Not interested.”
    “You’re going to die a bachelor if it kills you.”

    “I have wonderful news from New York!” Elizabeth proclaimed as she sat at Connie’s kitchen table. “The dress is going to live.”
    Connie breathed a sigh of relief, hugging her mother. “Thank goodness the damage wasn’t permanent.”
    “The word is no one will ever know…unless they use a magnifying glass.”
    “You didn’t tell Aunt Mona?”
    “Heavens! And encourage her to add another chapter in that dreadful book? Not on your life.”
    Connie walked to the counter and poured them two cups of coffee. “I’m glad it’s all worked out.” She shot her mom a sad glance. “Most of it anyhow.”
    “Has he called?” Elizabeth asked with a worried frown.
    “A couple of times.”
    “And?”
    “And it was hard. Awkward. There really isn’t much to say.”
    “How about let’s get together for dinner?”
    Connie sat with surprise. “That’s a little forward.”
    Elizabeth leaned over, lightly touching her arm. “Come on, you’re miserable without him.”
    “But I thought none of you could stand Mac?”
    Elizabeth sipped from her cup, then set it down. “It wasn’t Mac, per se, but rather the shock of everything surrounding him at the time.”
    “Like the tattered dress?”
    “That didn’t help.”
    “People make mistakes.”
    “Of course they do.” Elizabeth studied her daughter. “How do you know you’re not making one now?”
    Connie thoughtfully gazed at her mom. “Sometimes things are too weird to go back, you know? It’s not like we were ever really dating.”
    “I’m sorry, Connie,” her mom said, sounding as if she meant it. After a beat, she said, “Tell me about that new venture of yours. Sugar Shots, you say it’s called?”
    Connie felt her face brighten. “Yes, and I’ve got a couple of investors already. Parents from the children’s museum.”
    “That’s wonderful. What will you sell?”
    “Baked goods and photographs of what I make.”
    “I’m not sure I understand.”
    “Sugar Shots will be a bakery boutique,” Connie explained, “focusing on miniatures. Miniature pies, miniature cakes, little tiny cookies, and the like.”
    “Oh, how cute!”
    “Yes. And I plan to photograph everything.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, when I cater a party with a selection of minis styled to the hostess’s direction, I’ll take commemorative photos of the food’s presentation and frame them like this.” She produced an example of a high-resolution photograph in a frame overlaid with the words, Happy fifth birthday, Minnie. The picture was of a layered “cake” made from five tiers of tiny pink cupcakes crowned with