Rustic Hearts

Sophie

 

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity. Gail and Marcus approved the set of sketches I’d sent over, and my line launched in the stores two days ago. Just in time for the holiday sales push. According to Gail, end of September, first of October is the ideal shopping period to maximize holiday sales.

It was a more significant success than I could have imagined. Maple and Park almost instantly sold out of all the in-stock pieces at both locations and placed a double order for next month.

Our manufacturing shop was completed late last week, and our staff has been working nonstop to replenish Maple and Park’s stock and to fulfill their online orders.

At this rate, we’ll be able to break even this year. That’s a remarkable feat for a first-year start-up.

Stanhope is more than pleased with the return on his investment, and he has other partners who are ready to invest if I need that cash flow in the future. For now, however, I’m content to continue at the pace we are growing and see how it goes.

I just finished my last conference call with a raw material supplier and have a few minutes to freshen myself up before Lawrence—Mom’s fix-up—picks me up for our blind date.

I don’t date often. It’s not that I don’t want to date; it’s just easier not to. After Alex and I broke up when he moved to Cambridge for law school, I went out with a few guys from class and even joined an online dating service, but the last few guys I met online were less than honest on their profiles. One flat-out used a different name, photo, and bio. When he showed up at the coffee shop we had agreed to meet at, he was at least two decades older than he had listed. It’s hard being single in this day and age. No one is who they present themselves to be on social media.

Lawrence picks me up from the office at six p.m., and we head around the corner to one of my favorite casual bar restaurants for happy hour and di

Mom was right. He is beautiful, tall with dark hair that he pulls back off his face into a tasteful man bun. His cheekbones are high and his jaw chiseled. He has full lips and gorgeous caramel-colored eyes. I actually think Mom might have done the impossible and set me up with someone with potential. That is, until about halfway through di

“So, Sophia, how is it that someone as stu

“Just haven’t met the right guy, I suppose. Not that I haven’t been a little too preoccupied to look for him.”

“I bet you wouldn’t have to look too hard. I’m sure a long line of men would be at your door, if given a chance. I’ll be honest, the way your mother persisted, I half-expected a middle-aged spinster, not a beautiful, smart, sexy woman.”

I take a sip of my wine and let his compliment pour over me like warm honey. “Thank you. You’re not hard on the eyes yourself, and yes, my mother is very persistent when she wants something. Although I would bet it took a lot more persuading for you to agree to this date than it did for me.”

He quirks one eyebrow in question. “What makes you say that?”

I lean in and lower my voice to just above a whisper. “Because, Mr. Newberry, I dare say you have spent much more time tonight gazing into our waiter’s eyes than you have mine.”

He sinks back in his chair and gives me a sexy grin. Then, he shrugs. “Still not a hardship to spend the evening with you, Miss Lancaster.”

I raise my glass. “To the begi

“Indeed.”

He winks and clinks his glass with mine.

After di

All in all, not the worst date I’ve ever been on.

My phone rings as I make it home.

I grab it from my purse and answer, “Hi, Mom. Hold on a second. I’m just unlocking my door.”

Once I’m inside, I pick back up.

“So, how did the date go? Or is it still going? Is he there?” she asks hopefully.

“No, it’s just me. He got a better offer.”

“What do you mean, he got a better offer?”

“I mean, our date ended when he picked up another one at the bar.”

“What? He didn’t!” She gasps, appalled by the possibility.

“Oh, he did,” I confirm.

“That’s just not done. I’m calling Lydia this instant.”

“Mom, Lawrence is into men. He left with our server.”

“He just left you and went off with someone else in the middle of your date? How rude,” she stammers, offended on my behalf.

“It wasn’t the middle; it was the end. Did you hear the part about him being gay, Mom?”

“Yes. Damn it, all the pretty ones are nowadays.”

“Yeah, they are,” I agree because, well, they are.

“Are you sure he’s not just bi-curious?”

“Mom!”

“Just asking.”

“No. And how do you even know what bi-curious is?”

“Please, I grew up in the seventies. We were all about free love.”

Ew. I do not want to hear anything about my mother and free love.

“I’m sorry, darling. Lydia never mentioned he was unavailable in that way. Oh my, she must not know.”

“It’s fine. It was actually one of the better dates I’d been on lately.”

“Oh, honey. That’s just sad.”

We both burst into laughter because she’s not wrong.

“I want you to be happy, baby. Married to a handsome man who treats you like a princess.”

“I am happy, Mom. And I know you are jonesing to be a grandmother but—”

“What? No, I’m way too young to be a grandmother. My mother is a grandmother. Not me.”

“If you marry me off and I start popping out babies, what do you think that’s going to make you?”

“Nina. I’ll be Nina.”

“Did you just make that up?”

“Yes. Don’t you think it sounds so much more sophisticated than grandmother?”

There really isn’t a posh alternative to the title grandmother. When I was little, I called my grandparents Maw Maw and Paw Paw and Gram and Pop. None of those would do for Vivian Marshall.

“Not really. But don’t worry. I don’t plan to make you use either title anytime soon.”

I yawn.

“It’s late. I’ll let you get your beauty sleep, darling. I’m sorry about the Lawrence thing.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I think I made a new friend, and in my book, that’s a pretty good way to spend an evening.”

“Good night, my onliest only.”

“Good night, Mom.”