Page 19 of Hibiscus Heights

So here she was, looking more than a little tousled. She’d planned to meet Matteo as she was—until she had a good look at herself. Quickly, she finger-combed her tangled, windblown hair and began braiding it over one shoulder.

Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor behind her.

Deb saw her mother’s face reflected in the mirror. “I heard Rachel set you up with a date tonight.”

“It’s just a meet-up at the Ferry Cafe. Nothing fancy, Mom.”

Bitsy put a hand on Deb’s shoulder. “I can see that, and I mean that in the kindest way. Here, let me do that for you.”

“I can manage.”

“Of course you can. But I still like to look after you, so humor me. I went through five messy boys before I got to play dress-up with you. Sit down so I can reach you.”

Bitsy picked up a brush and gestured toward her vanity chair with it.

Deb eased onto the chair, smiling at the memories. “I always felt it was you and me against a pack of wolves.”

“They only teased you because they loved you. Boys often have trouble expressing their tender feelings.”

“It’s probably easier for them when they’re little.” Like Teddy, she thought.

While Deb watched her mother in the mirror, Bitsy deftly worked her blond hair into a thick braid with nimble fingers. A few gray hairs now mingled with Deb’s natural highlights. Watching their reflection, Deb realized the growing resemblance between her and her mother.

She took after her father in terms of her long limbs, but she and her mother looked strikingly similar. They were often mistaken for sisters.

Deb would be happy to age like her mother, who now played pickleball at the club, having given up the more demanding game of tennis.

Her mother secured the ends of her hair. “What do you think?”

“Much better.” Deb touched her mother’s hand.

Bitsy picked up a perfume bottle. “How about a spritz of this orange blossom parfum you gave me for Mother’s Day?”

Deb nodded and closed her eyes. The scent of heavenly white flowers filled the air. It reminded her of the citrus trees in her yard.

Bitsy tilted Deb’s chin up. “Now, you need some lipstick, and I have a sweater you can take. It’s chilly near the water.”

With a slip of pale pink on her lips and a matching cotton sweater around her shoulders, Deb was ready.

Her mother hugged her. “You look natural, not like you’re trying to impress him.”

Adjusting the cardigan, Deb grinned. “That’s because I’m not.”

“No, you never have,” her mother said thoughtfully. “Not since—” She stopped. “Sorry, that’s ancient history. I hope you have an enjoyable time this evening.”

Deb ignored her mother’s slip of the tongue. She knew she didn’t mean it.

* * *

After leaving the boisterous family dinner, Deb pedaled toward the ferry on her bike. She loved this time of the evening when moonlight shimmered on the waves and a light chill swept in from the sea.

Her bike tires hummed against the pavement as she cycled through the quiet, colorful streets of Crown Island, waving to neighbors out for an after-dinner stroll.

She’d have one glass of wine or sparkling water with Matteo. Rachel’s matchmaking attempts usually ended in disaster, but something in her sister-in-law’s voice when she mentioned Matteo had made Deb curious enough to agree.

Or it might have been her mention of vineyards.

She slowed as she approached the Ferry Cafe, its cherry-red exterior glowing under strings of fairy lights lining its outdoor patios.

---