Free Plan Bee by Hannah Reed

a necklace so awesome I’d wear it, and a warm expression on her face, like she was actually enjoying a slice of her life. What was wrong with this picture?
    Not only that, but I saw Tom Stocke, the antique-store owner, walk in right behind her. And he was cleaned up like he was on a date, wearing a blue button-down shirt, khakis, and (the dead giveaway) a tie. Mom spotted a small table open near the front window, and Tom stayed right behind her.
    “Why’s he following Mom around?” I asked.
    “Boy, are you dense,” Patti said. “They’re on a date.”
    “HS! (
Holy Sh**!
)” Holly said.
    My sister broke into text-speak for the very first time all day, but she had a legitimate reason to do so. Our mother had
never
been out on a date with anyone other than our father. I mean
never
. Mom and Dad had met in high school and stuck together like two pieces of Velcro until he died five years ago. Since then, she hadn’t even looked at a man.
    Or so I’d thought.
    “Look at them, sitting close together,” I pointed out.
    “This isn’t their first date,” Patti said. “I can tell by their body language. Better put Tom’s name on our list.”
    “Unbelievable,” Holly said, staring at Mom.
    “You two go say hi,” Patti said. “I’ll stay here and double-check my list.”
    “Okay. I’m going over,” Holly agreed.
    “Me, too.” I trailed behind, letting her pave the way incase Mom didn’t appreciate being interrupted. What was going on? As her daughter, I should know these things. After getting past the initial shock, a little part of me wasn’t comfortable seeing my mother with a man other than my father.
    By the time it was too late to retreat, I remembered that Mom knew about me making that emergency call to report a body in the cemetery. I bet she thought it was some prank I came up with.
    But as it turned out, she was on her best behavior, par for the course in the world of dating. Everybody’s at their very best in the early stages of romance, behaving better in those first few weeks than they ever will again. Men and women both do it. That’s why there are books and articles devoted to how to act on dates. “Be yourself” is definitely not one of the rules, because nobody would be foolish enough to follow that one, not if they wanted things to progress in the right direction.
    At least Hunter and I have known each other long enough to let it all hang out. Mostly.
    “Hi, girls,” Mom said, flashing a brilliant smile, one I didn’t recall ever seeing before. “Say hi to Tom.”
    Tom, Holly, and I murmured at each other, and I could tell we all felt a bit awkward. Mom acted like she was holding court, suddenly the queen of small talk, chatting about the festival and not once mentioning my altercation with Johnny Jay. A few minutes later, while Mom and my sister were huddled in a discussion about Holly’s amazing progress in returning to human-speak, I spotted a rust-colored stain on Tom’s shirtsleeve.
    He saw me notice and looked down. “Where did that come from?” he said, after studying the stain, sounding as surprised as I was. “I must have cut myself and didn’t even notice.”
    Mom tuned in and dunked a napkin in a glass of ice water, saying, “We better get to that right away or it’ll nevercome out. Here, let me.” She went to town rubbing. “It would be easier if you took your shirt off.”
    “Now, Helen,” Tom teased. “What would people think?”
    Mom blushed. Holly and I took that as a cue to leave and vamoosed.
    “I can’t help thinking,” Patti said after we ordered another round of beer, “that we need to establish a premise and conclusion.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Huh?” my clueless sister said.
    “Let me guess,” Patti said to Holly. “Not so good in the sciences, right?”
    Holly just looked more confused.
    “Here’s our premise.” Patti glanced at her notes. She’s determined to be a stereotypical journalist. They love pads of paper, particularly