I realize I’m defending her in my head and shove away from the front desk.
“Thanks for the info. I’m headed to lunch.”
“Want some company?” she asks, hopeful.
“Already have some.”
I drop my white coat in my office on the way out the door and then start to walk to Hamilton Brew. Madeleine emailed me this morning, confirming our lunch meeting and giving me the address for the coffee shop. I’m starving, and when I push through the door, I’m greeted by the smell of fresh baked bread.
My stomach grumbles on cue, and then I scan the room and find Madeleine set up with her laptop and notes at a table pushed up against the side wall. She looks more professional than I’ve ever seen her in a fitted dress and nude flats. Her long hair is pulled into a high ponytail and she’s typing away at her laptop, and I almost agree with Sasha—in Chicago, men would be flocking to her. In Hamilton, her “quirks” are completely wasted.
I weave through tables to get to her and she glances up, a wide smile breaking out across her face. She’s radiant despite the overcast day. I reach her and lean down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She always smells like lavender, I realize, just before I feel her stiffen. I jerk back to standing.
Why the hell did I just kiss her cheek?
“Oh! Um, hello,” she says.
A deep blush creeps up neck and I clear my throat.
“Hey, did you already order?”
She can’t meet my eyes. She’s focusing on a point just over my right shoulder as she shakes her head. “I was waiting for you.”
I nod toward to the counter. “C’mon, I’m starving.” She drops her papers onto her laptop and reaches for her purse. I hold out my hand to stop her. “It’s on me.”
She frowns and shakes her head. “I like to treat my clients when I invite them to meet me at a restaurant for business.”
“And I like to pay when I take a friend to lunch,” I say, closing the subject.
She doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t drop her purse either. That’s fine. When we order, I tell her to go first, and when she orders the same turkey club I was eyeing, I tell the cashier to make it two and then slip him my card before she can unclasp her wallet. She laughs and reaches for one of the massive chocolate chip cookies on display beside the cash register.
“For that, you’re buying me a cookie too.”
The coffee shop fills up for lunch fast, and by the time we’ve taken our seats with our sandwiches, no less than five people have come up to say hello to Madeleine.
“You’re pretty popular,” I comment, unwrapping my sandwich.
She shakes her head. “It’s just how life is here in Hamilton. Stay here for another few months and you’ll see. You can’t make it through a turkey club without ten people coming up—”
“Maddie Thatcher, is that you!?”
I turn just in time to see a small woman with short blonde hair bolting for Madeleine.
“Mrs. Bell!” Madeleine says, leaping out of her chair. “When did you get back in town?!”
They’re hugging and talking too fast for me to catch up, including mention of an RV trip and newlywed bliss. I finish half my sandwich before they finally extricate themselves from their conversation and notice me sitting here, watching them with amusement.
“Oh, Adam! I’m sorry, this is Mrs. Bell, Daisy’s mom.”
I can see the resemblance as soon as she mentions it. She’s a little shorter than Daisy, obviously older, but they have the same delicate bone structure, the same mischievous gaze.
“Adam!” Mrs. Bells says, turning back to Madeleine and lowering her voice. “The vet, Adam?”
Madeleine rolls her eyes. “Clearly Daisy has been filling you in. Yes, this is the vet, Adam but right now he’s my client, Adam.”
Mrs. Bell squeals. “Oh, how amazing, Madeleine! Daisy told me you were having a rough go of real estate for a little bit. I’m so happy to see you with a new client.”
I see Madeleine’s smile falter. Is she having a rough go of it? She was obviously desperate to get me as a client if she was willing to accept my proposal the other day, but I just thought she was being an overzealous agent—going the extra mile for her job, that sort of thing. Now, I’m not so sure.
“Well once Madeleine sells me a house, I’ll recommend her to everyone I know,” I add, trying to ease her frown.
The fact that I don’t really know many people in Hamilton is completely lost on Mrs. Bell. Her eyes glow with approval.
“What a kind man.” She turns to Madeleine. “And handsome too, don’t you think?”
Madeleine laughs. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that in front of him, Mrs. Bell. It’ll go to his head.”
I smile. “I don’t mind, really.”
Mrs. Bell laughs and tosses me a wink. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I don’t want to keep you two from your date—”
“Lunch meeting,” Madeleine corrects.
Mrs. Bell smiles. “In my day, we called them dates, but whatever floats your boat.”
“He’s a client!”
Once again, they seem to have completely forgotten I’m sitting here, listening, but I don’t mind. It’s the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.
“Well I’ve never had a client eye me the way he’s eyeing you.”
I smile, but Madeleine groans and shoos her away, threatening bodily harm if she keeps it up.
“Don’t pay attention to her,” Madeleine insists, sitting back down at our table. “She likes to stir up trouble. It’s kind of her thing.”
I shrug, finishing off the last bite of my sandwich before I reply, “I like her.”
She reminds me of my mom, but somehow that kind of teasing is more charming when it comes from someone you aren’t related to.
“She means well, but you should have seen the way she manipulated Daisy and Lucas before they finally got together. I thought Daisy was going to kill her.”
I laugh, imagining it for myself. “I’d like to hear about that someday when we have more time.”
Her eyes flash and she slaps her forehead. “Ugh, right, of course. We need to get down to business. You have to get back to work soon, I’m sure, and we haven’t even started to talk about real estate.”
I wish we didn’t have to. I want to hear more about Mrs. Bell, about Madeleine’s life in Hamilton, but she insists. Her untouched sandwich gets pushed to the side as she turns her laptop so we can both see the screen.
“So first we’ll go over the details about what you’re looking for—y’know, what your price range is, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
She balks. “Which part? The price? Or the type of house you’re looking for?”
“All of it. Price shouldn’t be an issue since I sold my house back in Chicago before I moved, but I haven’t put much thought into the house I’ll buy here.”
“That’s okay. What was your house like back in Chicago?”