Free Little Miss Lovesick by Kitty Bucholtz Page A

house today at 12:30.” Trent waited expectantly. Did I walk right into that or what?
    “I’ll check.” I didn’t make any move to open my calendar on my laptop.
    Trent cocked his head. “Tomorrow or Thursday?”
    I chuckled. “I’ll check my calendar, I said.”
    “Fine, Thursday then. Around one. The office may close up early and we could have the rest of the afternoon for a long lunch.” He smiled like he’d just checked my king.
    I needed to learn to play a better game of chess. “If I’m free.” I shook my head at him. “Which I won’t be if you don’t let me get back to work. Go!”
    He grinned and left. What was I going to do with him?
    He likes yo u , said a Voice . You kind of like him. Maybe he’s The One.
    I still like the other on e , said Lovesick.
    The phone rang and saved me from having to think about it. It was the newlyweds. It’s possible I might have to kill myself if they don’t find a house soon. They kiss in every room. They stare at each other with googly eyes every moment they’re together. Once, I took her out alone and the only thing she talked about was him. They were so sweet, they were giving me cavities.
    Only because you desperately wish that was your lif e , said a Voice.
    Today they’d called to discuss the pros and cons of buying a “fixer-upper.” I gave them my opinion and they were off the phone in a flash to “conference.” That’s what they always said when they wanted to discuss something and get back to me. “We have to conference. We’ll call you back.” Don’t they know “conference” is a noun, not a verb?
    The fact that you could be a happy newlywed right now if things had turned out differently is making you crank y , said Little Miss Lovesick.
    No, the issu e , said Sergeant Pride , is that Dirk’s a jerk an d that’ s why you aren’t a happy newlywed right now.
    That’s enough. Remember, I’ve decided to feel better now. Focus. I choose to be happy. I choose to feel peaceful. I choose to stop thinking about Dirk.
    Asshol e , said another Voice softly.
    The phone rang again. Thank you, God! If I don’t have some distraction from all this noise in my head, I’m going to need some medication.
    “By the Bay Properties, Syd Riley speaking.”
    “Darlin’ Sydney! How are you, sweetheart? It’s GT!” I put my hand over the mouthpiece and groaned. I hit my forehead on the desk twice. It didn’t help.
    “Are you there, darlin’? This is Gerald Turkelbain. You remember me, don’t you? You helped me buy my cottage last winter.”
    Oh, I remembered him all right. Remembered every touchy-feely, Southern charming detail about him. He’d gotten a reputation for being a difficult-to-please client (in three months, he’d gone through seven realtors in four agencies without buying anything), and I had the reputation of being able to work with anyone. Of course, I ended up with a massive commission check when I found him a house. But I swore to myself and to Perry that I would never , eve r work with the man again.
    “Good morning, Mr. Turkelbain.” I tried to smile as I said it.
    “Oh, come on now, darlin’. It’s GT between friends. Listen, I’m looking to buy another house, one for Merci’s mama, and I was hoping I could sweet-talk you into helping me out. You’re about the nicest realtor I’ve worked with. What do you say?”
    I ran one hand through my hair. I didn’t want to say yes. He was a pain in the patootie. But I wasn’t really the kind of person to say no. Which is why I was often banging my head against hard surfaces.
    “Uh, let me check my calendar. Did you have anything specific in mind?” I brought up the calendar on my laptop. Not even a dental appointment. Darn!
    “I sure did! I figured you come pick me up at the cottage — I’ll show you around and let you see the renovations — then we’ll have lunch at the Boathouse.” GT loved the best in everything, especially the best food. The Boathouse was arguably the