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"The phone's for you."
Hope Jordan glanced irritably toward the wall of her minute coffee shop on Seattle's Fifth Avenue and dragged her wet hands across the white butcher's apron tied about her waist. She hurried toward the phone and reached for the receiver.
"Hello, Mom," she said, not waiting for her mother to announce herself.
"How'd you know it was me?" Doris Jordan asked, her voice revealing her surprise.
"Because no one else phones me when I'm this busy."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," her mother said, not sounding the least bit contrite, "but you work too hard as it is."
"Mom, unless this is really important, I have to get off the phone. I've got three runners waiting for orders." Hope smiled apologetically toward the trio.
"You'll phone me back?"
"Yes…I promise. But sometime this afternoon, all right?"
"Sure. It's important, Hope. I'll give you the details later, but I want you to know that I've invested twenty-five dollars in tickets to win a date with Prince Stefano Giorgio Paolo of San Lorenzo."
Hope's head bobbed with each one of his names. She'd recently read a lengthy article about Prince Stefano, and his beautiful country. "You want to date someone young enough to be your son?"
"No," Doris said with an impatient sigh. "I bought the tickets for you"
"Mom."
The line went abruptly dead. Hope stared at the phone for several seconds before replacing the receiver. Her mother was bound and determined to see her married, but buying her raffle tickets for a date was "one step over the line" of what Hope found acceptable.
Not that it would do her any good to argue. Her mother wanted her married. The wedding itself wasn't the important point. Grandchildren were. Her mother's three closest friends were all grandmothers. It had become a matter of social status for Doris to see Hope married and pregnant. In that order, of course. And if Hope needed a bit of encouragement along the way, well, Doris was more than happy to supply it. Unfortunately, her means of nudging Hope toward marital bliss bordered on meddling into her already-complicated life.
"We're ready anytime you are," Jimmy, the lovable nineteen-year-old college student, said with a mildly sarcastic smile.
"All right, all right," Hope muttered, lifting the thick paper cups holding a variety of coffees and carrying them from the counter to the waiting trays.
"The idea is to deliver them while they're hot," Jimmy reminded her.
Hope poked his ribs with the sharp end of her elbow.
"Hey," Jimmy protested, "what was that for?"
"Just a little incentive to get you to move faster," she said, grinning broadly.
"I'm outta here."
"That's the idea, Jimmy, my boy." She laughed as he rushed out the back door toward the Federal Building, where the majority of his thirsty clients waited.
When this last batch of runners was out the door, Hope brewed herself a latte and slumped into a chair. The morning rush was a killer.
Coffee Break, Incorporated, had been an idea whose time had come, if sales these past few months were any indication. Hope had started the business with a staff of three who made daily exotic coffee and latte deliveries to the office buildings around Seattle's thriving downtown area.
Soon she'd added a variety of low-fat muffins and other products to the menu and expanded to fifteen runners, who serviced a number of businesses each morning and midafternoon.
"What's wrong?" Lindy, the woman who baked the world's greatest muffins, asked as she pulled out a chair and plopped herself down next to Hope.
Hope flip-flopped her hand, too tired to complain. "My mother's up to her old tricks."
"Has she found another matchmaker?"
Hope was tempted to smile at the memory. Unfortunately, the woman at the matchmaking service hadn't completely understood that the men Doris wanted were meant for her daughter. Consequently Hope had been matched with a man sixty-three years old. Doris had been outraged and demanded her money back. But in the end, it had worked out for the best. The gentleman had taken a fancy to Doris and the two had dined together several times over the winter months.
"That was last time," Hope said.
"Did she arrange another date for you with her doctor's nephew?"
Despite her fatigue, Hope was tempted to laugh outright this time. "That mistake isn't likely to be repeated, either." Her dear, sweet, matchmaking mother had learned a lesson with that fiasco. Doris had insisted Hope meet Arnold Somethingor-other. A doctor's nephew was sure to be a real catch, the perfect husband for her stubborn daughter.
Fool that she was, Hope had agreed to the blind date because her mother had been so excited. Doris had made it sound as if she'd miraculously stumbled upon the perfect man for Hope. If she agreed to just one date, then Hope would realize it herself.
