Free My Foolish Heart by Susan May Warren Page B

had left such deep wounds that sometimes she still bled. Like today.
    â€œSeb Brewster has been out of my life for nearly a decade. Trust me, that’s long enough to get him out of my system.”
    Issy smiled. “If you say so. And by the way, let’s go back to the flyers you were handing out at the parade. Really? You were in the parade?”
    â€œYes, and Bree said to tell you hi and that if you need your hair done, she’d be glad to stop by.”
    â€œYou always were so nice, Lucy. Even to Bree.”
    Lucy pulled out the tea bag, dropped it onto the saucer, pushing away the image of Bree in Seb’s arms. Shoot, she’d thought she had deleted that from her memory. “That’s me. The nice girl.” She took a sip of tea and managed not to choke. “I declare a moratorium on nice. Did you know the coffee shop is serving donuts?”
    She could have hugged Issy for her appropriate look of shock.
    â€œYep. They had a sign on their door—they’re selling them for sixty cents. Sixty!”
    â€œThat’s simply not right.”
    â€œWhich is why I was out handing out flyers. Did you know that I made 2,486 donuts today?”
    â€œThat’s a lot of donuts.”
    â€œNot enough. I’m down by six hundred from last year at this time.”
    â€œSix hundred donuts?”
    â€œThat’s about five hundred dollars.” She took another sip of tea. “Tell me I love my job.”
    â€œYou love your job.”
    â€œTell me that buying my parents’ business wasn’t a huge mistake.”
    â€œYou made a stellar investment. It’s the only donut shop in a hundred miles.”
    â€œTell me I love donuts.”
    â€œYou love donuts.”
    Lucy looked at her. “I hate donuts.”
    Issy took another bite. “You don’t hate donuts.”
    â€œOh, but I do. I’ve been making donuts every single solitary day since I was twelve. I hate donuts with everything inside me. I loathe donuts. I wish nothing but terrible things for donuts. I despise the dough and the glaze and the chocolate—”
    â€œPlease stop talking. You’re hurting me.” Issy took another bite. “And the donut. It’s in pain. Shh . . . wait until I’ve eaten it.”
    Lucy bit back a smirk. “Fine, okay, I don’t hate donuts. I’m just saying, I never thought, when Mrs. Childers assigned us to write, ‘Where will you be in ten years’ for our senior essay, that my answer would turn out to be ‘Serving up coffee and donuts down at the harbor.’”
    â€œBeing a donut girl is a noble profession.”
    â€œNow you’re just lying to make me feel better.”
    â€œIsn’t that what best friends do?” Issy finished the donut. “And no, I’m not. Think of how lonely and donutless I’d be without you.”
    â€œMy mission in life—to fill the earth with donuts.”
    â€œDonuts are joy in a little sugary package.”
    â€œNo, donuts have a hole in them. Which says that something is missing . Probably a good metaphor for my life.”
    Oops, she hadn’t meant to get quite that transparent. Please, Issy, don’t ask.
    â€œOh, Lucy. You’re the most beloved girl in town. You know everyone, and everyone knows you. What could you be missing?”
    See? She had everyone fooled. She lifted a shoulder. “I might be missing my donut shop by this time next year if I can’t make my payments. Which means I have to fight for donut control of Deep Haven.”
    â€œMaybe we could rally the community.”
    â€œLike when we tried to get Pierre’s Pizza to start delivery? Yeah, that worked.”
    Issy made a face. “I miss their gourmet spaghetti, with the pepperoni and olives? Yum.” She licked glaze off her fingers. “Talk to the mayor. Jerry loves the donut shop. Doesn’t this town have some sort of no-compete clause? Or