Page 44 of Come Fly With Me

“I don’t know if it’s a date,” Margaret said.

“About time,” Heather said.

“Isn’t it exciting?” Shona said.

“Pray he’s discovered Viagra, or it’s going to be a bloody short date,” Jean muttered, making Margaret want to wash out her ears with soap.

“Forget it,” she said, regretting the call. The last thing she needed was to have her life decided by group vote. “I don’t need any input. I’m sure it’s just my hormones talking.”

“Rubbish,” Heather said. “That man has had his eye on you for years.”

“It’s true,” Jean said. “Even during our fling, he was always talking about you. It’s a good job I’m not the jealous type and that I never wanted anything more than a roll in the heather.”

“Hay,” Shona corrected. “The saying is ‘roll in the hay’.”

“This is Scotland,” Jean replied. “We roll in heather. Even though that stuff could scratch your backside raw.”

“Could we please focus?” Heather called out over everyone else. “We need to help Margaret. Now, tell us what’s going on.”

“Well,” Margaret said into the silence, “I’m hiding in the toilet of the spa restaurant, talking to you idiots.”

“Apart from that,” Shona said.

Margaret heaved a sigh, her eyes on the plain blue skirt covering her knees. If she’d known this was a date, she wouldn’t have worn that skirt. She’d have worn the green dress that her lingerie-designer daughter had given her, the one that brought out the green in her eyes.

“Margaret!” Shona snapped.

“He ordered a bottle of good wine,” Margaret blurted. “Said we needed to leave room for dessert and that we could share our mains. And he’s wearing his favorite waistcoat.”

“It’s a date,” Shona pronounced.

“Date,” Jean said. “Now can I get back to my show?”

“I don’t know if I want to be on a date,” Margaret whined.

“Honey.” Heather’s voice was soft. “The fact you know it’s his favorite waistcoat says otherwise.”

There was silence.

“I still love my Colin,” Margaret confessed quietly. Even after so many years, the ache of losing her husband was a dull throb within her. One that never relented.

“And you always will.” Heather sounded choked, the understanding making her words heavy. She’d lost her husband only a few years earlier, and the wound was still very raw. “But this could be another chance at loving somebody. Somebody just for you. Do you want to miss out on that just because you’re scared?”

Heather had cut to the heart of the matter. She was terrified of making a terrible mistake, of being hurt, of being vulnerable again—of losing someone else.

“I don’t remember how to do this,” she whispered, knowing if her friends had been there, they would have wrapped her in hugs.

“It’s easy,” Jean said, missing the point entirely, as usual. “You let him pay, you don’t offer it up on the first date, and you laugh at his jokes. Oh, and you get access to the hotel store cupboards, which means mini shampoos all around again!”

Everyone burst out laughing, and the tension inside Margaret evaporated, only to be replaced with an effervescent anticipation that she hadn’t felt since her youth.

“What if we’re reading this all wrong, and this isn’t a date?” She pressed her palm to her roiling stomach as she spoke.

“There’s only one way to find out the truth,” Shona said. “You need to ask the man.”

“Aye, that’s what I was worried about.” Margaret was either about to step onto a path she hadn’t anticipated taking, or she was going to end up with egg on her face.

“Can I watch my show now? It’s the salsa. That’s my favorite dance.”