one side. “Are you asking for a date?”
“Since you’re opposed to dates, why don’t we call it ‘spending time with each other
to share our appreciation for similar interests’?”
“I’m interested,” Andi said.
Jake smiled. “So am I.”
Together Andi and Jake joined the hundreds of other people circling the track. Some
belonged to teams who handed off decorated batons to each other. Some danced to the
pumped up rock music. And others were drawn toward the strong, delicious smell of
hot dogs and popcorn, which tested Andi’s willpower on her new diet.
Halfway around the track they met Heather with Mia, both behind a table braiding friendship
bracelets.
“Look, Mom,” Mia said, running up to her with their donation jar. “We sold lots!”
“Great.” Andi swooped down and wrapped Mia in a hug. “But in twenty minutes, I want
you to come back to the cupcake booth. It’s almost time to go home.”
“Heather said people walk all night.”
“They do,” Andi replied, tousling her daughter’s hair. “But not us. We need to go
to bed.”
“Who’s he?” Mia asked, her eyes on Jake.
“This is the man who helped us open the cupcake shop. His name is Jake Hartman.”
Jake knelt down to Mia’s level and offered her a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mia.
My daughter, Taylor, is in your class at school.”
“Taylor?” Mia sucked in her breath, her blue eyes filling with tears, and turned to
Andi. “She stole the Gummy Bears you gave me and called me stupid.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Andi said, sneaking a peak at Jake’s shocked expression.
“She did,” Mia shot back, her lower lip quivering. “I hate her.”
“Now, Mia,” Andi warned, her voice firm, “you know we don’t hate anybody. Don’t you have anything to say to Jake?”
Mia gave Jake a wary glance.
“Something nice?” Andi prompted.
“You can’t be as bad as she is,” Mia said, shaking his hand. Then she ran back to
the table with Heather.
Jake cleared his throat. “Well, that’s good to know.”
Andi cringed. “I’m sorry. Mia’s tired and shouldn’t be up this late.”
“Don’t worry; you get to meet my daughter next, and you’ve already been warned about
her temperament.”
Jake smiled, but from his expression it was clear he meant to talk to his daughter
about her actions. Andi meant to speak to Mia also and hoped they might find a way
to all be friends.
Three-quarters of the way around the track Jake stopped in front of his sister, Trish,
and introduced her husband, Oliver, and their son, Evan. Then he introduced his own
daughter, Taylor.
Jake’s sister, still wearing her pink ribbons and pink-tasseled Zumba pants, gave
Andi a hard look. “Oh, no.”
Jake squinted at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s looking at you the same way I saw you looking at her the other day,” Trish
said, rolling her eyes.
Jake gave a quick half-turn, but Andi hid her face by stepping forward to greet his
daughter. Taylor had Jake’s and his sister’s brown hair, but her eyes were lighter,
filling with tears the same way Mia’s had.
“Did you know my mom?” Taylor asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Andi admitted.
“We made a bag for her,” Taylor explained.
Andi glanced at the white paper bag lantern on the ground by their feet, decorated
with crayon-colored hearts stickers, and illuminated by the tea candle inside. The
name SUSAN HARTMAN was written on the front, with a photo of a beautiful woman with dark wavy hair below
it.
Jake had said his wife had passed away two years ago when Taylor was three, but Andi
got the feeling she shouldn’t be here. At this event. With them.
No wonder Jake hadn’t taken her hand as they walked. He was here to honor his deceased
wife. To hold hands with another would be inappropriate. Awkward. Still . . . as they
stood side by side, her hand itched to take his and close the four-inch gap
“Since you’re opposed to dates, why don’t we call it ‘spending time with each other
to share our appreciation for similar interests’?”
“I’m interested,” Andi said.
Jake smiled. “So am I.”
Together Andi and Jake joined the hundreds of other people circling the track. Some
belonged to teams who handed off decorated batons to each other. Some danced to the
pumped up rock music. And others were drawn toward the strong, delicious smell of
hot dogs and popcorn, which tested Andi’s willpower on her new diet.
Halfway around the track they met Heather with Mia, both behind a table braiding friendship
bracelets.
“Look, Mom,” Mia said, running up to her with their donation jar. “We sold lots!”
“Great.” Andi swooped down and wrapped Mia in a hug. “But in twenty minutes, I want
you to come back to the cupcake booth. It’s almost time to go home.”
“Heather said people walk all night.”
“They do,” Andi replied, tousling her daughter’s hair. “But not us. We need to go
to bed.”
“Who’s he?” Mia asked, her eyes on Jake.
“This is the man who helped us open the cupcake shop. His name is Jake Hartman.”
Jake knelt down to Mia’s level and offered her a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mia.
My daughter, Taylor, is in your class at school.”
“Taylor?” Mia sucked in her breath, her blue eyes filling with tears, and turned to
Andi. “She stole the Gummy Bears you gave me and called me stupid.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Andi said, sneaking a peak at Jake’s shocked expression.
“She did,” Mia shot back, her lower lip quivering. “I hate her.”
“Now, Mia,” Andi warned, her voice firm, “you know we don’t hate anybody. Don’t you have anything to say to Jake?”
Mia gave Jake a wary glance.
“Something nice?” Andi prompted.
“You can’t be as bad as she is,” Mia said, shaking his hand. Then she ran back to
the table with Heather.
Jake cleared his throat. “Well, that’s good to know.”
Andi cringed. “I’m sorry. Mia’s tired and shouldn’t be up this late.”
“Don’t worry; you get to meet my daughter next, and you’ve already been warned about
her temperament.”
Jake smiled, but from his expression it was clear he meant to talk to his daughter
about her actions. Andi meant to speak to Mia also and hoped they might find a way
to all be friends.
Three-quarters of the way around the track Jake stopped in front of his sister, Trish,
and introduced her husband, Oliver, and their son, Evan. Then he introduced his own
daughter, Taylor.
Jake’s sister, still wearing her pink ribbons and pink-tasseled Zumba pants, gave
Andi a hard look. “Oh, no.”
Jake squinted at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s looking at you the same way I saw you looking at her the other day,” Trish
said, rolling her eyes.
Jake gave a quick half-turn, but Andi hid her face by stepping forward to greet his
daughter. Taylor had Jake’s and his sister’s brown hair, but her eyes were lighter,
filling with tears the same way Mia’s had.
“Did you know my mom?” Taylor asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Andi admitted.
“We made a bag for her,” Taylor explained.
Andi glanced at the white paper bag lantern on the ground by their feet, decorated
with crayon-colored hearts stickers, and illuminated by the tea candle inside. The
name SUSAN HARTMAN was written on the front, with a photo of a beautiful woman with dark wavy hair below
it.
Jake had said his wife had passed away two years ago when Taylor was three, but Andi
got the feeling she shouldn’t be here. At this event. With them.
No wonder Jake hadn’t taken her hand as they walked. He was here to honor his deceased
wife. To hold hands with another would be inappropriate. Awkward. Still . . . as they
stood side by side, her hand itched to take his and close the four-inch gap
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