Finding Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

brows. “I think it was.”
    • 31 •
    GEORGIA BEERS
    “Well, that was weeks ago.” Andrea paused, then asked,
    “What makes peppermint a Valentine ß avor anyway?”
    “How should I know? The colors? Because it’s red and white? I have no idea.”
    Andrea waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m glad Valentine’s Day is over.”
    Natalie grunted her agreement, still watching the clientele mill about the shop.
    “I have a new goal for us for next Valentine’s Day.”
    Natalie slowly brought her gaze back to Andrea. “This ought to be good.”
    Andrea took a playful swipe at her. “I’m serious. Next year, by Valentine’s Day, we are both going to at least be dating somebody. At least . What do you say? Agreed?”
    Natalie studied her for several long seconds. Finally, she sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “How exactly do you expect to reach this goal ”—she made quotation marks in the air to emphasize the word—“if you can’t even manage to make a date to meet your e-mail friend face-to-face after chatting with her for weeks?”
    A ß ash of anger shot across Andrea’s features so quickly, Natalie would never have seen it if she didn’t know her so well.
    Andrea mimed picking up the handset on a telephone and dialing.
    Putting the invisible receiver to her ear, she said, “Hello, Pot?
    This is the kettle. You’re black.” She hung up her fake phone and went on. “Don’t you dare give me your shit, because I happen to know for a fact that you haven’t gotten in touch with Tommy or Jenny to meet the woman they mentioned.”
    Natalie studied her coffee, feeling properly chastised. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
    “Yeah, it was, Little Miss Waiting for My Princess to Come.”
    Andrea snorted and sipped from her own cup.
    “I just hate the whole dating thing, Andrea. I can’t help it.” It was the truth. Just the thought of sitting through endless dinners and drinks, chatting with somebody for the express reason of
    • 32 •
    FINDING HOME
    Þ nding out whether or not she’d make a good mate, completely exhausted her.
    “Guess what? We all hate the whole dating thing. But don’t you think you should at least try? Do you really think the perfect woman is going to just drop out of the sky and into your lap?”
    “A girl can dream, can’t she?” Natalie asked, trying to lighten the mood.
    Andrea wasn’t falling for it. She remained serious, determined. “You have to put forth some kind of effort, Natty.
    You’re going to make some lucky girl very, very happy, but she isn’t going to magically appear. You have to go looking for her.”
    “I hate that.”
    “Join the club.”
    As they sat and watched the activity around them, Natalie reß ected on their friendship. Spanning more than Þ fteen years, it had had its ups and downs, but they always came out holding on to one another, standing up for one another, and loving each other.
    Even Andrea being a year older than Natalie didn’t keep them apart in high school or in college. It was as if they were destined to be friends. Nobody had been stronger during Andrea’s bout with breast cancer than Natalie. Andrea was such a young case that she and her family spent most of her treatment shell-shocked that this could even be happening to a woman barely thirty. So while they sat in waiting rooms looking blank and helpless, Natalie questioned the doctors relentlessly, took copious notes, and spent a huge percentage of her time at Andrea’s apartment. The day she’d walked in with the pink streak in her hair signifying breast cancer support, Andrea had cried.
    After a few minutes of silence, Andrea suddenly asked,
    “Hey, have you seen Hot Business Exec lately? I haven’t noticed her.”
    “Me, neither,” Natalie said. Unexpectedly, she was hit with a mental image of the attractive brunette, always in some gorgeous designer business suit, always looking so elegant and professional and put-together.