Starry Night

I’ll order the curried chicken-salad sandwich instead of my usual egg salad. I’m in the mood to live on the edge.”
    “You’re changing the subject.”
    “Yes. Get the hint, Sophie. I’ll tell you more when there’s more to tell. For now, I’m not talking.”
    “Fine, then, have it your way,” Sophie pouted.
    Carrie’s cell phone beeped.
    I’m back. It was Finn.
    “It’s him, isn’t it?” Sophie demanded, attempting to look over Carrie’s shoulder.
    Carrie ignored her and stepped up to the counter to place her lunch order. When it was Sophie’s turn, she grabbed her phone and texted back. Can’t talk now.
    Have you missed me?
    Oh, yes. Am having lunch with snoopy friend.
    Got ya. In an hour?
    OK.
    She dropped her phone back inside her purse just before Sophie rejoined her. They found a vacant spot, set their order numbers on the table, and then went for their drinks. Carrie was antsy to talk to Finn. Two days had never seemed so long. She was dying to know if he’d missed talking to her nearly half as much as she’d missed chatting with him.
    Carrie had her coffee and Sophie her soft drink when they reclaimed their table.
    “We should talk about the party,” Sophie said. Their orders arrived, and she thanked the waiter with a smile.
    Party? What party? Then Carrie remembered that just before she left for Alaska they’d decided to host a small party in Carrie’s condo after Thanksgiving. Her place was bigger and could accommodate more guests.
    “I was thinking the first week of December. Friday or Saturday.”
    “Sounds good.” Carrie mentally reviewed her calendar. As far as she could remember, both days were clear.
    “If we don’t get the word out soon, it won’t happen. Besides, everyone gets so busy this time of year.”
    Sophie was a party girl, and Carrie had agreed, looking to make the most of the holiday season.
    “I thought we’d throw together a few appetizers and bring out the eggnog. Four or five couples should keep it manageable. We don’t need to make a huge thing out ofit—just a few friends getting together to celebrate the holidays.”
    “Ah, sure.”
    Sophie reached for the pepper shaker and doused her Oriental chicken salad. “You going to ask Dave?”
    He was Carrie’s Tuesday-night theater date. “Probably not.”
    “Because of this other guy?”
    Sophie was digging for information, but Carrie wasn’t going to let anything out. In response, she shrugged.
    “David’s a prize, you know.”
    “For someone else, maybe.”
    “From what I’ve seen, he’d like to be more than a friend.”
    Carrie had sensed as much. But even before she met Finn she knew it wasn’t happening for her. She felt vastly different when it came to Finn. He was a man’s man. Dave was personable and fun, but he wouldn’t be able to last a day on his own in an Alaskan winter. He wouldn’t even know where to start in order to survive. Oh, he could dress like a male model and flatter a woman with compliments and sweet talk. In simple terms, he wasn’t, and would never be, another Finn.
    As they munched through their meal they quickly pared down the guest list. Sophie promised to send out email invites that afternoon. A little more than two weeks wasn’t much notice, but it should be adequate.
    Eager to hear from Finn, Carrie rushed back to the office and straight to her cubicle. She still had one sleeve in her coat when she grabbed her cell phone and texted Finn.
    I’m back in the office.
    It didn’t take long for him to reply. Snoopy friend?
    Need to be careful; suspicions running rampant. Told her you were from Seattle, which you are, right?
    Born there.
    Close enough.
    Sophie?
    Yes. Talk tonight?
    OK.
    Carrie had her phone tucked back inside her purse and her coat off when her desk phone rang. She answered the way she always did. “Carrie Slayton.”
    “Carrie?”
    The voice on the other end of the line was vaguely familiar.
    “It’s Joan Reese, Finn Dalton’s mother. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you, but I hadn’t heard from you and I’ve been anxious for news of my son.”
    Carrie felt dreadful that she’d delayed getting in touch with Finn’s mother. “Joan, I am so sorry. I’ve been meaning to call.” She started to make a convenient excuse, the way she had with her own family, then stopped herself.
    “Were you able to talk to Finn?” Joan asked.
    “Yes.” Carrie couldn’t find the words to tell this gentlewoman that Finn wanted nothing to do