and twirled it around in her hands. “Because you are available, and because Patty Barnes said she didn’t see a wedding ring on his finger.”
Claire scoffed. “Patty was staring so hard at the man she would have noticed if he had a freckle on that finger.”
Petula poked at a wrinkle in the tablecloth. “Well, he is the first new guy in town since Sam Jenkins moved in to open the bicycle rental shop.”
“Sam Jenkins is nineteen years old, Aunt Pet.” Determined to steer this conversation in another direction, Claire said, “Besides, I’m not interested in any new men in the community for the reason you’re suggesting.”
Petula wasn’t about to be silenced, not when she was on a soapbox. “I just think it’s time you considered getting married again, sweetie.”
Oh, here we go. Another lecture on my pitifully deficient social life. Defending herself on this subject again, Claire said, “You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve been dating Finn Sweeney for how long? Something like six years?”
“Finn and I have been involved for six years, but I would hardly call it dating.”
“I agree. Your relationship with Finn has gone far beyond that. So, if you want someone to get married, why not you and Finn?”
A little furrow developed between Pet’s eyes, as much distress as she ever showed. “I don’t believe in marriage, you know that.”
“You believed in it three times,” Claire couldn’t resist pointing out.
“Which is why I don’t believe in it now.” She reached across the table and laid one finger on the back of Claire’s hand. “But you do.”
“Yes, I do, and I was married once and took my vows seriously. Roman was everything I ever needed or wanted in a man. I have no interest in compromising his memory by attaching myself to the first man…” She stopped, took a deep breath and looked away from Pet’s penetrating gaze. Jack Hogan wouldn’t be the first man Claire had avoided. She’d left Miami partly to get away from men in her social circle who’d begun asking her out soon after Roman had died. “Why are we talking about this?” she asked.
“Because I think you need to,” Pet said. She glanced out the window to the street one floor below the second-story café. “And because I think the man in question is about to come up to the restaurant.”
“What?” Claire leaned over to get a view to the sidewalk, but a tin vase of plastic flowers sat in the way. “How do you know it’s him? You haven’t even seen him.”
“It’s not my psychic abilities if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Pet said. “The guy who just opened the door downstairs is wearing a sports jacket. There haven’t been any cold winds through my bedroom this week, so I know nobody died.” She shrugged. “Who else could it be?”
Just then Jack Hogan pushed open the entrance and walked into the Green Door Café.
“You say one word about your pathetic widowed niece, and I’ll never forgive you,” Claire warned.
“All I’m going to do is look the man over.” Petula made a V of two fingers and pointed them at Claire’s face. “I can tell a lot by just peeking into somebody’s eyes like I’m doing to you now.” She grinned like a contented cat and stood. “So, ’scuse me, honey. I’ve got a customer to wait on.”
CHAPTER TWO
NOTHING ABOUT AUNT PET should have surprised Claire at this point. She’d been close to her aunt all her life. She’d loved her, admired her, and when Claire had been cracking the books at the University of Florida and sending out too many résumés to count, she’d even envied her aunt’s free-spirited approach to living.
For as long as Claire could remember, Aunt Pet had flitted from job to job, claiming each was merely a way to support herself for a time, instead of a stepping stone to a secure future. That sort of seat-of-the-pants approach to life had been alien to Claire, an honors grad from a highly respected school of business who had her sights set on a lucrative and responsible career.
Still, despite having experienced Pet’s propensity for the unexpected in the past, Claire couldn’t help shuddering when her aunt walked right up to Jack Hogan, gave him a boisterous welcome and offered to take him to a table by the window. There had always been a “seat yourself” policy at the Green Door Café, which was clearly stated on the chalkboard inside the front entrance, and which Pet blatantly ignored now.
She set a menu in front of Hogan as he settled into a chair directly facing Claire at the next table. Without scoping out his surroundings first, he unbuttoned his jacket and loosened the knot in his tie. He still looked as stiff as a surfboard compared to the half-dozen other customers who were hanging out in work clothes or baggy shorts and tank tops, but he seemed less like an automaton than he had in Claire’s office.
“What’s good?” he asked Pet while studying the menu.
“Oh, honey, nothing bad comes out of our kitchen.” She smirked. “On the other hand, there’s nothing to write home about either. So I’d suggest you close your eyes and point your finger. It’ll land on something edible.”
He emitted a little sound that could almost be mistaken for a chuckle, and looked up.
Claire blinked, tried to look away, but it was too late. She was caught in a deep gray gaze that refused to let go.
And then Hogan actually relaxed, propping his elbow on the back of the chair. “I see the mayor eats here,” he said. “That’s a good recommendation. What’s she having?”
“You know my niece?” Pet said innocently and with as much enthusiasm as if the revelation were deserving of a headline in the Heron Point Tattler.
Hogan stared at both women as if trying to reconcile them to the same gene pool. “We met this morning.”
Pet peered at Claire from under a raised eyebrow but spoke to Hogan. “Don’t order lunch based on my niece’s preferences. She’s a grazer. Show him what you’re having, Claire.”
Claire smiled stiffly. “I’m sure Mr. Hogan has seen lettuce before, Aunt Pet.”
“I have, but rarely on my plate.” He turned his attention back to Pet. “I’ll just have the fried grouper sandwich, fries, and an iced coffee.”
“Good choice. I’ll hold the lettuce.” She took the menu and headed for the kitchen.
And Jack Hogan continued to give Claire an uncomfortably personal appraisal. She took another bite of salad and chewed, but suddenly her jaw muscles felt tight. She washed down the lettuce with a swallow of raspberry iced tea. “Is there something you want?” she said when Hogan still hadn’t looked away. “You’re sitting by a window with an incredible view of the Gulf of Mexico. Surely you can find something more appealing to look at than my unappetizing lunch.”
Obviously appeasing her, he passed a quick glance out the window and then leaned forward and focused on her again. “Actually I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to join you. Other than those two ladies over at the realty office, you’re my only friend in town.”
If she’d had a mouthful of food, Claire was certain she would have choked on it. “You think we’re friends?” she said. “I probably should make myself clear. Our friendship, if in fact there is one, is directly affected by how many of my neighbors you’ve bothered already today.”
Hogan stood up, came around the table and sat opposite her. “Good, because you were the one and only person I bothered this morning. But we still have a lot of daylight, so who knows? I can squeeze in a fair amount of antagonizing before the end of the day.”
Claire didn’t doubt it. He was bothering her in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.
Pet appeared with a tall mug of cool coffee and