Page 2 of Holidate Scramble
An idea sparked. Wild, impulsive, possibly brilliant.
I turned toward their booth. "Excuse me. I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help overhearing—"
The man's head snapped up. His eyes were dark brown, intense, framed by lines that suggested he frowned more than he smiled. The look he gave me was pure irritation. "Were you eavesdropping on a private conversation?"
Heat flooded my face. "Not intentionally. Small space, voices carry." I straightened my spine, summoning every ounce of professional confidence I had. "I'm Piper Summers. I'm coordinating the Alzheimer's Foundation's Twelve Days of Christmas campaign."
Virginia's face lit up with recognition. "Oh yes! I remember you! You are so cute, and I just love your hair.”
I smiled, touching the sparkle clip I'd fastened in my blonde pixie cut this morning. I'd chopped off my long hair right before Easter, needing a change, and the short style still felt liberating.
“Thank you,” I replied before turning back to her son. "I heard you mention the hospital gala and needing a date. I also heard Mrs. Thornton call you her son, which meansyou're connected to someone who's always judged our annual Christmas Cookie Contest."
His eyes narrowed. "And?"
"And I have a proposition." I gripped my phone tighter. "I need a celebrity judge for the Cookie Contest on Christmas Eve morning. My original judge just canceled. You're Virginia Thornton's son, which gives you credibility in this community and a connection to the cause we're supporting. If you agree to judge the contest, I'll be your date for the hospital gala."
Silence stretched across the booth. He stared at me like I'd suggested we rob a bank.
"You want me to judge a cookie contest in exchange for you pretending to be my date to a hospital fundraiser."
"It's mutually beneficial. You get a date for your work event, I get a judge for mine. Win-win."
"That's a wonderful idea!" Virginia clapped her hands. "You should do it, honey. The Alzheimer's Foundation is doing important work."
"Mom—"
"And this lovely young woman needs help. What was your name again, dear?"
"Piper Summers, Mrs. Thornton."
Before he could formulate a refusal, the bells over the door jingled. A plump woman in her mid-fifties bundled in a bright purple coat and red scarf entered, her smile warm.
"Mrs. Thornton? I'm here to take you home." She approached with easy confidence. "Did you enjoy your breakfast?"
"Oh, Lenora!" Virginia looked up with relief. "Yes, it was lovely. My son took me out for French toast."
The woman—clearly Virginia’s caregiver—helped gather her things.
"Are you ready to head back?" Lenora asked. "We can watch that baking show you like."
"Will you come too, sweetheart?" Virginia looked at her son.
"I'm working this afternoon, Mom." He stood, helping her into her coat. "But I'll stop by later this evening. We can look through those photo albums."
"All right." Virginia kissed his cheek, then turned to me with a conspiratorial smile. "You make sure my son behaves himself. He needs someone to keep him on his toes."
After Lenora escorted Virginia out, the man sank back into the booth and rubbed his face with both hands. He looked exhausted.
"That was awkward," he muttered.
"Join me for coffee?" I gestured to his half-empty mug. "We should talk about my proposal."
He looked up at me, those brown eyes still skeptical. "I haven't agreed to anything."
"I know. But you haven't said no either."
He studied me for a beat, then gestured to the seat across from him. "Five minutes."
