Tori told her aunt how Max had come into the diner and about his botched attempt to talk to Jeanette. She chose not to mention her growing attraction to the man, focusing instead on their mission to find a lovely woman for him to marry.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Jilly said, setting a mug of tea in front of her before taking a seat. “I was starting to worry about you, so I’m relieved you still believe in love and marriage.”
Tori shook her head. “How I feel about it hasn’t changed. But if that’s what Max thinks he wants, I’m going to help him get it. He’s a sweet guy and the least I can do is help him find a woman who’s the least likely to turn into a shrieking harpy.”
Her aunt winced. “I’m sorry that’s become such an accurate description of your mother since they split up. I try to be supportive because she is my sister, after all, but sometimes I don’t pick up when she calls.”
“That’s actually why I stopped by.”
“Tell me she didn’t call you to complain that I didn’t answer my phone.”
“No, it’s worse.”
Jilly held up a finger, motioning for her to hold on, and went to rummage in the cabinet under the sink. From behind packages of napkins and paper towels, she took a plastic container, which she set in the middle of the table. When she took the lid off, Tori smiled at the sight of chocolate chip cookies.
Jilly took a bite, then motioned for her to continue. “Okay, hit me.”
“She called about Thanksgiving. You know, the same drama we’ve gone through every year. And I told her I was coming here.” Tori reached into the bucket for a couple of cookies. “She got pissy about it and said she might call you and see if there was room at your table.”
“Oh.” Jilly started shaking her head, slowly at first, and then with vigor. “There isn’t.”
Since they were sitting at a butcher-block table surrounded by six chairs, Tori laughed.
“I need to go buy a smaller table,” her aunt said. “How the hell am I supposed to tell her no?”
“Without setting her off? I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to give you the heads-up.”
“I can’t do it, Tori.” The amusement faded, and Jilly looked tired all of a sudden. She looked a lot like Tori felt whenever her mother called or came up in conversation, she thought. “She’s my sister. She’s your mother. She should be welcome in my home, but she’s so...”
“Miserable,” Tori said. “And she wants everybody to be miserable with her.”
“If I tell her we’re going out of town for Thanksgiving, she’ll expect you to go home.”
“Don’t worry about me, Auntie. Save yourself.”
Jilly snorted. “I appreciate your noble sacrifice, but no. We’re entitled to have a relaxed, happy Thanksgiving dinner as a family.”
“I’m thinking a last-minute flu.”
“That has possibilities.”
“It’s risky, but I don’t see Mom driving three hours to help nurse us back to health.”
“At least she can’t blindside me now and surprise me into inviting her. But enough about your mom. I want to hear more about Max.”
Speaking of blindsides, an image of Max lying in the grass next to her and laughing popped into her head. Even with her little breakdown over her parents, it had been a fun afternoon.
“Does he have a date in mind already?” Jilly continued.
“He’s going to ask Nola Kendrick to dinner.”
“Hmm. She’s a nice woman. Kind of quiet. They’re probably a good match.”
“I think she’ll enjoy his company and, from what little interaction I’ve had with her, she doesn’t seem prone to sarcasm or anything like that. Max has a good sense of humor, but he’s still a pretty literal person, so somebody who’s snarky could hurt his feelings without meaning to.”
Jilly took another cookie out of the basket. “You sound very protective of him.”
She shrugged. “Remember back in high school, how you felt watching a guy ask a girl out and get shot down? It was kind of like that. She wasn’t mean or anything, but I still felt bad. And then, when I was talking to him, he’s...sweet and funny. I want to help him find a date who’ll appreciate that.”
“Okay.” Jilly took a bite of the cookie.
“Stop it. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“You’re planning my wedding to Max Crawford in your head right now.”
Her aunt sipped her tea, the picture of innocence. “I’m just eating my cookie. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tori rolled her eyes and took the whole cookie bucket. She was surrounded by hopeless romantics.
Chapter Nine
Max smiled at Fran Benoit as he closed the door to the Whitford General Store behind him. She was in her usual spot behind the counter, knitting what looked like a sock. Or maybe a mitten. She had on a checked flannel shirt and her long gray hair was in a braid, as usual.
“Good afternoon, Max.”