Page 23 of No More Secrets
“You never know with Willa. Her mom was the town psychic for a few decades until she retired and moved to Boca. Willa claims that she ‘sees’ things, too.”
The clever displays of boots and barbed wire and wooden crates drew Summer deeper into the store. She had taken a few design courses over the past two years and could tell that a lot of thought as well as a natural knack had played a hand in the creative visuals.
Willa returned in a cloud of sandalwood with a white box in her hand. “These should do,” she said. The front door yee-haw sounded as a couple in their fifties entered the store. He was balding and wearing a Grateful Dead tee. The woman was wearing a conservative navy pantsuit and had her rich brown hair pinned back in a sleek bun.
“Rainbow! Gordon! I’ll be right with you,” Willa called to her visitors. “Carter, do you mind helping Summer with these while I take care of Rainbow and Gordon?”
“Sure.” Carter took the box from Willa and shot a suspicious glance at the visitors.
“What? What is it?” Summer whispered.
“The Berkowiczes,” Carter said, guiding her to a chair.
“Rainbow Berkowicz? You’re just screwing with me now, aren’t you?” She sat and slipped off her shoes.
“She’s the president of the bank next door. Gordon’s her husband. He runs the seasonal garden shop just outside of town.” Carter flipped the lid off the box and pulled out a cowboy boot in a rich chocolate tone. Thin turquoise stitches wove a pattern around the supple material.
Summer snatched the other boot out of the box. “These are incredible! Why are you glaring at the Berkowiczes?”
Carter yanked the boot out of her grip and grabbed her foot. “I’m not glaring. I’m trying to figure out their game. You need socks.” He glanced around and grabbed a pair off of a rotating display.
“Here, put these on.” He ripped off the tag and handed them over, continuing to frown at Willa and her visitors at the front of the store.
The knee socks were the same blue as the stitching on the boots with candy pink hearts. They were kind of adorable. Summer pulled them on over her bandaged feet. “Why are they looking at us and whispering? Is it because we’re looking at them and whispering?”
“No. They’re plotting,” Carter said, grabbing her foot and easing it into a boot. He shot another glance at the trio.
Summer grabbed him by the chin and turned his head to her. His beard tickled her palms. “Is this something you can explain to me without glaring at them?”
Carter reached for her other leg and Summer tried to ignore the delicious tingle that shot up from her toes at his touch.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve just never been in their sights before. I heard rumors, but I never thought it would happen to me.”
“Carter, you’re starting to scare me.”
“Don’t look at them!” he barked. He stuffed her foot into the other boot.
“Are they casting some kind of spell on you?”
He shook his head. “Worse. They’re matchmaking.”
“Who —?” Summer looked down at Carter, kneeling before her, his hands holding her calves. “Oh.”
“Shit,” Carter muttered, abruptly standing up.
Summer rose with him. “What do a bank president, a boot seller, and a garden center guy have to do with matchmaking?”
“They’re part of the Beautification Committee,” he said, as if that explained it all.
Summer waited. “And?”
Carter swiped a hand over his face. “And it’s basically a cover for a not-so-secret society of busybodies. And those three are some of the busiest. Their favorite thing to do is pick out poor singles and pair them up. They claim it makes the town a better place to live if everyone is ‘in love.’” Carter threw up the air quotes and Summer bit her lip trying not to laugh.
“Exactly how many couples have they tortured into love?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Something like twenty or so.” He turned so that he stood between her and their prying eyes.
“And they all fall in love?”
