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planning?”
    “Waiting until it’s time to cook before making sure you have something to cook on? Tsk-tsk , Helena. Bad hostess.”
    She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t get the party-planning gene.”
    “Are you sure you’re Southern?” he said in mock horror as he collapsed onto the swing.
    “Bite me.” She nudged him aside and sat as well, putting the swing in motion. “So how’s life? I barely get to see you these days.”
    “Busy, same as yours, which is why we barely get to see each other.”
    “Well, I’m glad you came tonight.” She cut her eyes at him. “Even if you can’t put together a simple grill.”
    “It’s missing pieces,” he reminded her. “That’s not my fault.”
    “It turns out I forgot to get a propane tank anyway, so . . .”
    Good Lord. “It’s a good thing I gave up, then, or I would’ve had to kill you.”
    Not the least bit scared of that possibility, Helena waved a hand dismissively. “Molly already read me the riot act about that, so you don’t have to. But dinner should be ready soonish. Grannie was precooking the chicken anyway.”
    God bless Ms. Louise. “Should we be helping?”
    Helena shook her head. “You know how Grannie feels about men in her kitchen. That’s why she sent me out here to talk to you.”
    “You’re going to make your grandmother and Molly cook our dinner?”
    Sighing, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “They both like cooking. And Molly’s much better at it than I am anyway. And,” she added primly, “it would be rude to leave a guest alone to entertain himself.”
    “Most people consider it rude to invite a guest over under false pretenses.”
    “I’ve apologized for the grill.”
    “I meant Molly and the Children’s Fair.”
    Completely unrepentant, Helena shrugged. “Molly didn’t feel comfortable asking you, and you’d have said no if I asked you, so I just gave you the chance to make it your idea to help her out.”
    “What would you have done if I told her no?”
    She snorted. “Like that was even a possibility.”
    He looked at her. “I have no urgent desire to work on the Children’s Fair.”
    “I know that, but I also know that you can’t resist the chance to rescue a damsel in distress.”
    “That’s not—”
    “Don’t even try to deny it,” she interrupted. “It’s sweet, really. But it makes you easier to play than ‘Chopsticks.’”
    He was tempted to prove her wrong, but that wouldn’t be fair to Molly. “Such Machiavellian maneuverings.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helena biting back a smile. “Oh Lord, what now?”
    “Nothing.”
    She was up to something and it worried him. “What?”
    “Let’s change the subject,” she said, a little too brightly. “So . . . how’s your love life?”
    “Just great. Thanks. And yours?” The answer and the tone were intentionally noncommittal.
    “The same, of course,” she answered flatly. “You seeing anyone?”
    “Nope.”
    When he didn’t elaborate, she elbowed him. “And why not?”
    “Between the clinic, my family, and the rest of mylife, there’s not a lot of time.” That wasn’t a lie, and it was a convenient, if not terribly pleasant, truth.
    “But you want to. Date, that is.”
    While phrased as a statement, it was obviously a question. And a very loaded one, by the tone of her voice. “What exactly are you asking me, Helena?”
    She hesitated in a very un-Helena-like manner, which immediately put him on guard. Pausing the swing, she turned to face him. “I think you should ask Molly out.”
    It could have been worse. “Why?”
    “Because Molly’s great.”
    “I’m sure she is.”
    “So . . . ?” Helena prompted.
    He nudged her foot, releasing its hold on the porch, and set the swing in motion again. “I’ve decided not to date locally.”
    “So it’s a location thing?” Her brow wrinkled as she looked at him. Then she shook her head. “That’s just stupid. Or are the ladies in Magnolia