Page 54 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

“Still abstaining,” I said reluctantly. I didn’t intend to quit drinking forever, but I was hoping to get more than one and a half months without alcohol. I had to prove to myself that I could. But part of me longed for the liquid courage that I used to rely on around awkward date situations. Not that this was any kind of date. Definitely not. “I don’t mind if anyone else drinks though.”

After some small talk where I looked everywherebutat Peter, the pizza delivery finally came. We all shuffled into the dining room, where Mari had set up some fruit and veggie trays and candles.

Ugh, candles.

I peered at her closely as she sat at the head of the table. Had she envisioned this to be like a double date? I hoped not. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I would if I had to.

Wondering if Peter was having similar suspicions, I stole a glance at him as he pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the modest-sized table. As though he knew I was checking him out, his eyes zeroed in on me.

I quickly looked away, wondering if I had erred in declining a glass of wine.

So I focused on eating as Mari chatted with Peter, trying to draw him out a bit. Unsurprisingly, she was not successful, as he gave only short answers, albeit polite ones. His cool blue eyes flickered to mine more often than was necessary, even though I’d hardly spoken.

“You’re quiet, Haz,” Terry said after swallowing a mouth of meat pizza.

I slowly finished chewing my margherita slice and then took a sip of water, trying to stall as my mind frantically tried to figure out how to deflect the sudden attention. “Am I?” I asked breezily. “This pizza is just so good.”

Peter spoke up—the first time he’d addressed me tonight—and his voice seemed deeper, richer than usual. “You appeared to be deep in thought.”

I laughed. “Meditating on how delicious the food is, that’s all.”

Mari shook her head, probably seeing right through my pathetic answer. “Are you thinking about the book again?” Before I could answer, she turned to the men. “Hazel has been writing a book, and she’s looking at a career move.”

I nodded, eyeing my plate. I tried to think of some way to end this conversation before it went anywhere, but instead, I noticed a giant tomato stain on my white sleeve. Putting my arm under the table, I tried to discreetly rub it with my napkin, but it probably only made the stain worse.

When I looked up again, everyone was gazing at me with curiosity.

I rolled my eyes. “I spilled a little. Not a big deal. Mari, you were saying something about renovations in the village earlier, weren’t you?”

“I was, yes. Starting with the library. Of course, we don’t own the library, but we offered to organize a funding drive for the town.” She looked at Terry and Peter then. “Hazel has started using the library for work. For writing her book, that is.”

I clenched my teeth. She’d again placed the spotlight on me, where it wasn’t welcome. I took a drink of water, now fully regretting my decision not to get intoxicated. “Yep.”

But she and Terryhaddrunk some wine, and it was starting to show already. “Hazel, I’ve been thinking …” she said in that slow voice she always used when slightly tipsy, which was rare. “Have you ever thought that the full-time writer life isn’t for you? I mean, maybe it is. But it doesn’t have to be. There aresomany other worthy things you could do to share your … your Hazel-ness with the world.”

“My Hazel-ness,” I repeated with a chuckle. But then I grimaced, realizing she was waiting for an answer. And we had an audience. “You’re probably right.”

“I have an idea!” Her eyes were bright as she looked briefly at Terry and then at me. “We could help you brainstorm some ideas!”

“Uh, sure. Maybe next time we have lunch—”

Terry held a hand up. “Why not right now? We’re all together. Pizza is excellent brain food, after all.”

“I’m not sure that’s true—” I started.

“Wonderful idea!” my best friend beamed before blowing Terry a kiss.

I had to look away. “OK, I guess we’re doing this.” I sighed. “Well, I have considered opening a counseling service.”

Her eyes lit up. “Hazel, what a wonderful idea! You’d be the best—oh, wait, don’t you have to be certified for that?”

“Well, yes. I believe that’s necessary to call yourself a counselor, so I thought about starting as a life coach, which doesn’t require a degree. Then—”

“Then, if you like it, you could go get your degree?” I think this was the most excited I’ve ever seen her. She wasn’t the bubbly sort at all, but the wine was obviously relaxing her. When I nodded, she added, “Oh, I just love this idea! Guys, isn’t it wonderful?”

Terry’s smile matched Mari’s, but Peter merely nodded, his face revealing none of his feelings—if the man had any.

“What’s wrong, Haz?”

---