“I have a proposition for you.”

I eyed Caroline suspiciously over the lid of my coffee. “Really?” I tried not to roll my eyes.

“I promise you, Lila, you’ll like this one.”

“Hmm.” I doubted it.

I had every reason to be leery of her “propositions”.  Last time I took her up on one I was investing in her homemade candle company. The time before that it was organic lip-gloss and bath salts.  If the market for these items matched her enthusiasm we’d be retired millionaires.

Unfortunately none of these enterprises lasted more than a few months. Caroline would end up disappointed and I’d end up with all the unsold goods to make up for my financial losses.  I love candles, but I think I have enough votives to last me into the twenty-fifth century, should I live that long.  So, when she said proposition I was ready to flee for my life.  

The fact we’d been friends for years kept me in my seat but I glared at her so her train of thought would jump its tracks. But no, Caroline and her indestructible spirit kept that locomotive moving, chuggin’ along like the Little Train That Could.

She ignored my narrow gaze and frown and leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. Her eyes were wide and gleaming. “Millhouse Farm is going up for auction.” The enthusiasm built in the tone of her voice.

I shot her the “hairy eyeball” but it had no effect on her.  Maybe she thought I’d get caught up in the wave of excitement that was evidently sweeping her away.  In a completely masochistic way I knew I’d regret later, my curiosity was piqued. I wouldn’t let her know that. If she knew she’d be all over it like a puppy with a new pair of shoes.

“The farm has a garden to die for. The Millhouses used to sell to the local grocery stores.  I’ve always wanted to open my own garden stand.”

This was news to me.  But I nodded anyway. She wanted me to grow potatoes and cucumbers with her? Please, God, tell me she didn’t want me to do that. I had a lovely way of killing any plant I touched. If I tried to set up a farm stand it would be known as the Farm Stand Of Death. Even Caroline could do better than that.

“And it has a stable area.  Ten stalls and a couple paddocks.   I was thinking that you and I could go in on it.  You could board horses and I could sell vegetables.”

She made it sound so simple.  Just go and buy a farm, get some horses to board.  Piece of cake.

There was only one problem… I liked the idea.  I’d wanted my own place for a while now, but couldn’t do it on my own.  I wanted to be my own boss, run a barn my way.  I had delusions of grandeur over my cup of Starbucks. 

Of course neither of us was independently wealthy.  I probably could’ve scraped together a few thousand but I wouldn’t begin to guess what she had in her bank account.  I took a chance that I’d sound interested. By doing so I knew her enthusiasm level would grow by leaps and bounds.

“And where are we going to get the money?”

Her eyes lit up.  It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning.  I groaned inwardly.  Me and my big mouth.

For a moment Caroline’s energy waned. She bit her bottom lip then released it. “Well, we’d have to have some help.  I was going to ask Stephen to help us out, be a silent partner.  He’s got the cash. And he would do this.”

Oh doom.  My little dream, as brief as it had been, went poof.  Stephen was Caroline’s big brother.  He was everything his sister was not. I don’t mean that in a bad way, really, but while Caroline was like a windy road, he was your standard straight and narrow. Well, maybe not narrow, but definitely straight.  He was always far too serious and single minded.  Growing up, Caroline and I had always been a thorn in his side and we were proud of it.  His mom used to make him take us places after he got his drivers license because she could trust him.  I’m sure we took advantage of him and offered no apologies over it.  He was probably overjoyed when he headed off to college.

Yet, and I still won’t admit this to anyone in the world but my old diary, I had a secret crush on him.  Oh man, what girl wouldn’t?  Even now he made my heart go pitty-pat.  He was still overly serious and generally looked a little shell-shocked after spending any amount of time with us.  What made Caroline think that he’d join in her little venture was beyond my comprehension.  And I asked her that.

Caroline just shrugged.  “He’ll do it,” she said, but didn’t elaborate.

I sighed.  “I’ll have to think on it.  And take a look at the place.  I’ve never been in the barns. I don’t know if it’s even suitable for a boarding facility.  When do you need to know?”

She gave me a week.

Three days later, after my last lesson had left and my horse was put away in his stall, I decided to head over to the Millhouse Farm to check it out as best I could without having complete access to the place.  The place wasn’t much to look at, would never win a spot in Beautiful Homes.  It had been abandoned years before and no one took the time to clean up after the passing seasons.  It looked rather pathetic, and I was being kind, but it made me want to fix it up and give it some TLC. 

I silently swore at Caroline for getting me into this mindset.   Because if it didn’t work out then I was going to be disappointed and I didn’t like to be disappointed.  As I parked my car in the dirt drive, I prayed that the barn would be falling down, that the place would be swarming with termites, anything to discourage Caroline (and me) from this venture.  But the place was actually okay, despite the fact that it needed a dozen coats of paint to make it look half way decent.   And a lawn mower. 

I started walking to the back of the house when a truck pulled into the drive just behind mine.  Turning, I groaned.  It was Caroline and Stephen getting out of his black Expedition.  I wasn’t expecting them and if I’d known they were planning on being there I would’ve stayed away, or at least made myself beautiful.  After an afternoon standing in a dirt riding arena I resembled a dust bunny.  Normally I wouldn’t care too much, but when faced with the man of all my schoolgirl fantasies I just wanted to run and hide in the overgrown rhododendron bushes that grew next to the house.  But I didn’t have time for that.  I was struck by the glory that was Stephen. Six foot two, athletic build with wonderfully wide shoulders, short brown hair that had a bit of a curl to it and stunning hazel eyes. I hoped I wasn’t drooling too profusely.

Caroline was overboard with excitement to see me.  Never one to hide her feelings, her brother was quite different, but I was rewarded by one of his rare smiles, the kind that spread across his face, accentuating the deep-cut dimples on each side of his mouth.

Oh man, I was turning all girly.  I smiled back, but kept it as nonchalant as I possibly could.

“What do you think, Lila?  Could we turn this into a good investment?” Stephen directed the question to me most likely because I was apt to give him an answer that was based on logic and not emotion.

“Well, I haven’t seen the barn yet, so I’m going to reserve my opinions until later,” I replied, hoping that would impress him.  

He nodded his approval. 

“Well, I’m going to check out the garden.  Why don’t you two go look at the barn and see if it’s worth anything?  Stephen knows a thing or two about construction.”

Stephen’s profession actually was in construction.  I don’t know if Caroline pointed this out to be cute or if she really thought I didn’t know.    Of course I didn’t care at the moment.  I was going to be alone with him and I hoped I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself.  “Act professional,” I told myself sternly and led the way down to the barn.   I felt as professional as a five year old, but I guess I hid it well.  We discussed the structure of the barn, sound according to Stephen, though a few boards needed replacing and three windows were broken out.  Didn’t look like it had been termite fodder, so that was a good sign.  I liked the paddocks, nice and shady with enough space to let at least ten horses graze.  There was a semi-dilapidated riding ring as well. 

I was beginning to see serious dollar signs.  It was going to cost a bunch to fix the place up.  I was fairly confident that what I could bring in for income on running the stables and giving lessons would fulfill my share of the purchase, depending on the final cost of the purchase, but I still worried, more than a little bit, about Caroline’s end.  Did she really think that selling veggies on the side of the road (a quiet road at that) would be enough to pay her share of the mortgage?

“What do you think?” Stephen turned to me, after nudging a loose board in the side of the barn with the toe of his boot. 

“I love the place,” I replied carefully.  “But I guess what’s more important is what do you think?  Is it salvageable?”

  "I’ve been in the house and what it needs is cosmetic work, a new furnace and not much
else.  The barn is fine.  I think if you can get this place for one hundred thousand you could have
yourself a nice set up.”

If only I had that much change on me.  He must have sensed my disappointment because he put his arm around my waist. It was the first time he’d ever touched me like that, or in any way.  Then I did something entirely uncharacteristic for me.  I melted into him.  Apparently he didn’t care about that horsy stink that permeated from my clothes.  I know, really charming.

“You know I offered to help Caroline out,” he said against my hair. 

Caroline who?  Okay, I was being a lousy friend, but when a hunky guy is comforting you its hard to think of anyone else.

“She told me.  But I’m worried about something.”

His hand slid up toward my shoulders and then back down again in a stroking motion. The touch sent unbelievably warm and tingly feelings throughout my entire body. “Hmm?”

“Do you really think that she can make a living off of selling vegetables?”

His laugh started as a low rumble in his chest.  It was a pleasant sound I hadn’t heard much of and it lit his face.  “Is that the story she came up with?  I kind of like it.  Its so Caroline.”

I pulled back.  “I don’t understand.”  And I didn’t.  Why was he laughing?  Besides for the obvious reason that it was just a bit far fetched to do what she’d planned.

“This isn’t about Caroline.  Its about you,” he replied, the laughter leaving his voice.

Well, now I was really flummoxed.  About me?  What was all about me?  I asked him.  He took hold of my arms and faced me.

“This is about you making your dreams come true, Lila.  You’ve helped Caroline out for years, helping her make her dreams come true all the while struggling with your own.  She wants this for you now, for you to have your own home.”

Okay, I still didn’t get it.  I guess I’m just thick. 

“You mean she doesn’t want to sell vegetables?”

Stephen chuckled.  “Well, she might.  She’s been talking about that garden with a gleam in her eyes.”

Yeah, I knew that gleam.  “And where do you come in?”

“I’m going to help fix this place up once we get it at the auction,” he replied.

I just stared at him.  I think my expression was like someone looking at something strange and not altogether wonderful.  I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t what I was thinking.  I don’t know what I was thinking, actually.  Like I was in some alternate reality, Lilaland where all my dreams could come true.

“And why else?”

“You really don’t know?  Caroline was right, I guess.”

“Right about what?”

“She assured me that you had no idea that I was in love with you.”

“You are not.”  It’s not nice to fool someone like that.  I could’ve bought his words lock, stock and barrel, but there was no way I was going to.  Uh uh. 

Instead of trying to convince me further, Stephen lowered his mouth to mine.  Nowhere in any of my girlhood fantasies of him could my imagination compete with reality.  His touch was so sweet and smooth and at the same time able to throw my entire body into such an uproar that I wasn’t sure if I was going to explode with the intensity of it or float off like a piece of fluff into the breeze.  I chose neither in favor of staying right where I was. 

I wasn’t convinced that accepting his help with buying Millhouse Farm would be a great idea, but I knew that if I did then I’d get my farm, Stephen would get me (well, he would regardless), and Caroline would get her veggie patch. 

Sounded like a good deal to me.

 
I felt good.  I looked good.  Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have felt that cocky, but as a thirty-eight year old single mom of three, I think I had every right to gloat over the fact that I could get my butt into a skirt that I hadn’t worn in about ten years.  And still look good in it.  I was feeling pretty saucy, driving along Shore Road toward Wharf Street in my new electric-blue Chevy, top down and the sun kissing the top of my blond head.   So I wasn’t twenty anymore, and maybe I had Toby Keith’s “Who’s Your Daddy” blasting from my stereo instead of some bass-laden rap noise, but nothing was going to bother me.

Of course I should’ve been bothered.  I hated blind dates. Hated hated hated.  Oh, and did I mention that I hate blind dates?  But my sister ASSURED me that Keith Surette was one of a kind, that I’d get a real kick out of him.  She told me I needed a little fun in my life. 

Katherine then proceeded to make a date with this guy, on my behalf, take my kids for the day and even sent me off to Cutter’s Salon to make me look absolutely fabulous.  I hate peppy little twenty-something sisters too.  Well, until Bryan, the oh-so mod stylist at Cutters made me into the Goddess I now was.

Shore Road was busy, so it was hard to drive at any speed that would make my hair whip, but I had to smile at the fact that I was being checked out by more than one beach boy with a boogie board.  Good thing that the fine lines around my eyes, er, laugh lines, were hidden behind my dark glasses.

The parking lot at the top of Wharf Street was pretty busy and I had to spend about fifteen minutes circling around, like a vulture, waiting for a spot to open up.  Up one aisle, down the other, hoping to outsmart anyone else waiting for a spot.  Such is life in the summer here on the Maine coast.

I finally got lucky when a family of two worn adults and maybe half a dozen hyper kids dragging beach chairs, umbrella and an odd assortment of beach toys finally stuffed their minivan and pulled out.  I slipped my little car into the spot much to the dismay of a guy in a Beemer with New York plates.  The look that I got should’ve made me blush, but not today.  I just gave him a wink and turned off the ignition.

Looking in the mirror on the visor, I pulled my hairbrush out of my new purse, and ran it through my newly vibrant hair.  I really love Bryan.  Maybe if things with Keith don’t work out…

Oh, yes.  Keith.  He said he’d be the guy in red.  The plan was to meet him on the wharf for a lunch at Salty Sam’s.  Now that’s a hell of a name for a restaurant, but in all honesty it had the best lobster and steamers in the entire world.  And his seafood bisque could bring a grown man to tears of joy. 

It really sounds like I was only going out with Keith for the food, and while that was certainly the deciding factor,  I was glad that we were doing lunch and not dinner.  Lunch is so much more casual and if it didn’t work out then you could just walk away and get on with your life.   There’s something about dinner that just automatically leads to after dinner drinks, and moonlight and dancing and I just didn’t want to go there.  After a lunch, if it was particularly stinky, you could just look at your watch and say, “Oh, I have a parent-teacher meeting in a few.  Thanks, and I’ll call you.”

Did I mention that I’m a cynic when it comes to love? 

I felt a little overdressed walking among the crowd going to and from the beach, but that was okay.  There were a handful of people who weren’t dressed in bikinis and Speedo’s.  I had to avert my eyes from the men in their micro bathing suits.  Nothing will kill an appetite quicker than to see a fat, hairy middle aged man in a pair of skimpy tight panties that show off their, um, shortcomings.  I think the Speedo for a man is the equivalent of a thong bathing suit on a woman.  Come on, they can’t be comfortable!

As soon as I got to the wharf I looked for my hunky god in red.  I saw a couple red pairs of swim trunks, but I didn’t think Keith would be that informal.  Fifteen minutes later I must have looked pretty dejected.  I glanced at my watch.  Where the heck was he?  He said one o’ clock and here it was quarter after.  Stood up for a blind date.  Could it get much worse?

“Lizzie Maynard?”

I whipped around toward the masculine voice I heard from behind, my heart leaping for joy.  He did show!

I looked around because dumb me couldn’t see what was standing right in front of me.

“Are you Lizzie Maynard?”

“No,” I croaked, sounding more like a dying frog than human.  “No I’m sorry, I’m not.”

When Keith said he would be wearing red, he should have been a little more specific.

He was dressed all in red, from head to toe.

And I’m not talking about a red baseball cap, red shirt, red pants and red shoes.  Oh no.  That would be weird, but I’d get over it.

No, Keith was dressed up in the biggest lobster costume I’d ever seen, with the words “Salty Sam’s” written in large black letters across his torso.  Long red antennae reached up a good ten feet into the air.  His face was even red.  Yes.  Just as red as a boiled lobster.  Blue eyes stood out and his teeth looked blazing white against the eye-numbing redness of his whole being.

Oh no, I wasn’t going to be Lizzie today.

I could barely take my eyes off him, though, trying to see what kind of guy was underneath all that… lobsterness.

I took a step back, watching his smile drop and his blue eyes drain of their light.

Okay, so I’d just broke the heart of a lobster, but there wasn’t any way I was going to eat with him.  I mean, how could I, in all conscienceness eat a lobster while eating with a lobster?  It made me feel lousy for doing it, but, well, even I have my standards. 

I’d made it back to the parking lot when I heard someone calling me from the direction of the wharf.  I picked up my pace, after all, how fast could a lobster run anyway?  I could probably be out of the parking lot before he made it halfway to my car.

“Lizzie, stop.  I know its you.  Your sister described you perfectly.”

*Yeah, well I wish she’d returned the favor. *  I felt worse by the moment, running from this guy and his pleas didn’t make life easier.

As soon as I reached my car a hand grabbed my arm.  It was a gentle hold but it startled me because I expected to see a hideous red claw.  But this hand was as normal as they came.

“Lizzie, stop.”

I turned, ready to give him my best karate chop, but I decided against it.  The man was a good six foot five and built like a rock.  And he wore a red polo shirt.

“Keith?”  Man I was confused.  After all I’d just been accosted by an eight-foot tall lobster that knew my name, but this guy here looked as normal as could be.  Well, I take that back, he was good-looking as he was built.  Short dark brown hair and warm brown eyes that reminded me of mahogany. 

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.  I guess my sense of humor sometimes falls flat on its face.”  He waved a hand back at the wharf and I could see the lobsterman standing at the edge, no doubt looking up at us.

“You are Keith Surette, right?” I inquired cautiously.  He hadn’t exactly confirmed that point yet and I wasn’t going to say anything until I knew for sure.

“Yes, I’m Keith,” he laughed.  “Nice to meet you.”

Still in somewhat of a daze I took his outstretched hand and shook it.  “Lizzie Maynard.  Nice to meet you too.”

“I thought it would be funny for Mike over there to bring you in,” Keith remarked, not letting my hand go.

I sighed and met Keith’s eyes.  “You must think I’m horrible running off like that.  How rude of me.”  I laughed weakly.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have chased after you if I’d thought that.”

I found it in me to laugh a little at myself.  I must have looked pretty foolish hightailing it back to my car thinking I was being chased by a lobster.  Kathleen would not be hearing about this aspect of my date.

“What do you say we go back and have our lunch before they stop serving lunch.  Otherwise we’d have to wait until dinner.”

“Dinner would be just fine too,” I commented as he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm.  We walked back toward the wharf wondering how the heck I was going to apologize to lobsterman.  But I had a feeling a little humiliation on my part would be well worth it.