The Friendship List

His mother was Dagmar’s niece. He’d known her all his life. When he was little, he and his mom would fly up to Washington and spend the holidays with her. Unlike Seattle, the eastern part of the state usually had snow in December. Everything about staying with Dagmar had seemed magical—especially the hill out back and the sled she kept for him.

As she’d approached her retirement, she’d wanted to sell her place and move to Silver Pines. When she refused to relocate to Seattle, Thaddeus had insisted on buying the house she had now, telling her to keep the proceeds from her house sale for whatever she needed. Not that she would ever go wanting—he would make sure of that. But he knew she enjoyed being independent.

He wrapped his arm around her as they walked into the house. “What have you planned for us tonight?”

“Dinner with a friend.”

They went into her living room. He saw she’d set out appetizers on the coffee table and the ingredients for cocktails on her kitchen island.

“Who’s the friend?” he asked, moving into the kitchen and studying what she’d left out for him. There was his usual bottle of Scotch, along with a bottle of bourbon. Beside that were a bowl of sugar cubes, sliced oranges and Angostura bitters. Next to that were several highball glasses, an ice bucket and a bottle of club soda.

He added a sugar cube to the highball glass, then sprinkled it with the bitters. After adding a splash of soda, he muddled the mixture until it coated the bottom of the glass. He added ice and bourbon before gently mixing the drink and garnishing it with an orange slice. When that was done, he poured himself a Scotch and joined her on the sofa.

They clinked glasses.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She waved away the question. “I’m in perfect health, my love. At least as much as one can be at my age.” She laughed. “Now I want to talk to you about doing me a favor.”

“Of course.”

“I need you to seduce one of my friends.”

Thaddeus was pleased that he managed to stay seated and not react in any way beyond taking a very healthy slug of his drink.

“No.”

Dagmar pursed her lips. “But you haven’t heard me out.”

He reached for one of the chilled shrimp on a plate. “I would throw myself in front of a bullet for you or give you a kidney, but there is nothing you can say or do to convince me to have sex with one of your octogenarian friends.”

“What if she’s in amazing shape?”

Something he didn’t want to think about. “No.”

His great-aunt’s smile turned sly. “What if she’s not eighty?”

“I’m not sure her being in her sixties makes a difference. Why are you setting me up?”

“Technically I’m setting her up. Not that you don’t need a woman in your life. You do. The divorce was ages ago and while I’m sure the mindless sex you engage in is exciting in the moment, it has to leave you feeling empty afterward. Or am I assuming an emotional depth you don’t have?”

Better to have her think he was shallow than to tell her the truth, he thought humorously. There was no way he wanted Dagmar to know he was actively seeking a relationship. She was nothing if not determined and if she started looking for his future wife, then God help him.

“Why are you setting up your friend?”

She looked at him over her glass. “Don’t for a moment think that I didn’t notice your slick change of subject. But fine. We’ll talk about Unity.” She smiled. “She’s thirty-four and very sweet. She’s a handyman.” Dagmar held up a hand. “An unusual occupation, but I thought you’d find that intriguing. She’s tall and very athletic.”

“Please don’t tell me she has a great sense of humor.”

“As a matter of fact, she does, but she’s also very pretty. But you worrying about that isn’t fair. Not everyone can be beautiful.”

“How would you know? You’ve always been a looker.”

“And this is why I love you. Now about Unity. She’s been a widow for three years and she’s having trouble getting back in the game.”

He shook his head. “There’s no game.”

“Of course there’s a game and I miss it desperately. But that’s neither here nor there. You’ll like her and you should have sex with her.”

“When I first meet her or did you want me to wait?”

Dagmar rolled her eyes. “You’re so difficult. Whenever it’s appropriate. Just show her a good time. She needs to remember what it’s like to be young and single and still have firm breasts.”

“You’ve never set me up before.” Something he was grateful for.

“As I explained, I’m setting up Unity.”

“So I’m being used.”

“Yes, but for a good cause. Besides, you like a challenge and I have a feeling she’s going to be that. Are you interested?”

To go out with Dagmar’s sad friend? “No. I can find my own women.”

“And yet you remain single.”

“I’m not married. There’s a difference.”

“Not one I can see. Darling, don’t you want more?”

He had a feeling she didn’t mean his drink.

The doorbell rang, saving him from answering. Dagmar smiled and rose to let in her guest. It was only as she opened the door it occurred to him that “dinner with a friend” was going to be dinner with the widow his great-aunt wanted him to seduce.

He thought briefly of bolting out the back door before reluctantly standing. Dagmar returned, a tall blonde at her side.

“Thaddeus, this is Unity. Unity, my great-nephew, Thaddeus.”

“Hello,” he said with a neutral smile.

She had long blond hair and big blue eyes. She was about five-ten, with broad shoulders and long legs. Not a beauty, but pretty enough, he supposed. Unlike his great-aunt’s, Unity’s clothing choices were designed to blend in. She wore a white T-shirt over khakis and absolutely no makeup.

His first impression was she wasn’t anything close to his type. His second was to be surprised at her obvious shock at the sight of him.

“I’m not sure I knew you had a great-nephew,” she said, looking between them.

“I am pretty special,” he murmured.

Dagmar shot him her “Really? Do we have to?” look before smiling at Unity. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. However, I know you’ve never met until now.”

No doubt by design, he thought. “She’s been keeping you a secret, as well,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Unity.”

She still looked confused as they shook hands. Dagmar guided them to the sofa, careful to take a club chair for herself.

“Be a dear and get Unity a drink.” Dagmar waved her glass. “Thaddeus makes a wonderful old-fashioned. Of course Thaddeus has other skills, don’t you, darling?”

He ignored her and went into the kitchen to make Unity her drink. When he delivered it, he took Dagmar’s empty glass from her, leaning close to murmur, “You’re laying it on a little thick.”

She smiled. “It’s a style thing.”

He made another old-fashioned. When they were all seated again, Dagmar beamed at them both. “Isn’t this lovely? I’ve been waiting for the right moment to introduce you two.”

Unity looked more baffled than intrigued. She shifted uncomfortably before glancing at him. “So, um, what do you do?”

“He’s a farmer,” Dagmar said.

“I’m not a farmer.”

“You farm,” his great-aunt reminded him. “You’ve told me.” She looked at Unity. “It’s all very confusing. The man lives in Bellevue, so I genuinely don’t understand how it all works, but he’s very successful.”

He thought about explaining he hadn’t farmed in the way most people thought then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Instead he smiled and said, “I sold the farm.”

“What do you do now?” Unity asked.

“Some real estate development. Property management. Business turnarounds.”

“He’s very successful,” Dagmar added helpfully.

“That’s a lot,” Unity said, looking more uncomfortable by the second. She’d yet to take a sip of her drink and her fingers clutched the glass so tightly, he was afraid the crystal would shatter.

Unable to help himself, he took the drink from her and put it on the coffee table. She stared at her empty hand, then at him and flushed.

Thaddeus had been in dozens of relationships—some lasting all of two nights and one ending in marriage. None of them had been especially successful. Regardless, he considered himself fairly experienced when it came to women. Unity showed all the signs of someone completely out of her element. She was scared and uneasy and, if her darting glances toward the door were any indication, wishing she could run for freedom.

Which meant she’d had no idea he was going to be here, meaning the setup had been on both sides. What was up with that? Dagmar rarely got into his business. So why was this time different and why was Unity so apprehensive? If Dagmar had never talked about him, then all she knew was what she saw.

He was clear on how the outside world viewed him. He was tall, fit and good-looking enough to be appealing, but not so pretty that it got in the way. He commanded attention and understood his place in the world. But he wasn’t anyone to fear.

“What do you do, Unity?” he asked, deliberately keeping his voice quiet.

“I, ah, own a handyman business. My customers are local. We do home repairs.”

“She’s wonderful,” Dagmar added. “Everyone adores her. She has several employees, all retired men who know exactly what to do in any given situation.”

Unity managed a smile. “They work part-time for me.”

“Did you grow up in the area?”

She brightened. “I did. I went to school here. I married when I graduated and Stuart joined the army. I went with him after he finished basic training.” She paused. “He, um, died three years ago. I moved back here then.”

The widow part. He’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Unity is very involved with the Silver Pines community,” Dagmar said.

Unity winced. Thaddeus had no idea why.

“A lot of the activities are open to the public,” she said. “I’ve taken a few classes. Until recently I was on the pickleball league.” She met his gaze. “Do you play?”

“Pickleball? It’s not my sport.” He and Freddy had a couple of pickup basketball games they liked to join. Pickleball? Was that like badminton with a tennis ball? Ah, no.

Unity reached for her glass. Her hand shook so much, she couldn’t pick it up. She quickly pulled back her arm and tucked it behind her.

Thaddeus had impressed his share of women but he’d never petrified one before. He stood and looked at his great-aunt.

“Could I speak to you for a moment, please?”

Dagmar put down her drink and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“We’ll be right back,” he told Unity, then led Dagmar down the hall to her bedroom. When he’d shut the door behind them, he exhaled. “This has got to stop. The poor woman is actually trembling with fear.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I had no idea she would be so—” Dagmar waved her hand. “I can’t even describe it.”

“I’m going to go.” He shook his head before she could speak. “Whatever your plans were for this evening, they’re not going to happen. You have a nice dinner with Unity and I’ll see you later.”

“But I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I wanted the same, but it’s not as if you can ask her to leave. I’ll come back soon. I promise.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They returned to the living room. Unity looked at him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Thaddeus smiled at her. “It is, however I need to start my drive back to Seattle. It was very nice to meet you, Unity.”

She stood. “I hope I didn’t chase you off.”

“Of course not.”

Her mouth twisted. “It’s just I was surprised and I’m not very good at small talk and you’re a little imposing.”

Her honesty surprised him. “I’m far from imposing.”

“Have you seen yourself?” She flashed him a smile. “But it was nice to meet you. Next time I’ll do better. Oh, wait. I should go so you two can—”

Without thinking, he took her hand in his. As his fingers curled around hers, he felt an unexpected jolt of heat and interest. Because it made all the sense in the world that he would be attracted to a woman who literally quaked in fear around him.

“You stay. I insist,” he said, releasing her and stepping back.

He kissed Dagmar’s cheek again, then let himself out. As he walked to his car, he told himself that when he got back to Bellevue he would work out for an hour, get to bed early and start fresh in the morning. There were several billion people in the world and at least half of them were women. Surely he could find one, just one, who was the right one for him. Or at least semiright or half-right. At this point, he wasn’t looking for a miracle, he just wanted a good woman to love and a couple of kids. Even if lately, that had felt like wishing for the moon.

Keith walked in his house and threw his keys into the basket on the table by the back door. The bus he was taking on the college road trip had been serviced and declared ready for the twenty-four-hundred-mile journey. He didn’t want to jinx anything, but he had a feeling he was just about ready.

He walked into the family room and saw Lissa curled up on the sofa, reading. In the second before she looked up and acknowledged him, he took a moment to deal with the reality that his baby girl was growing up.

She’d turned seventeen two months ago and she was about to be a senior in high school. Gone were the gap-toothed smile and the pigtails. In their place were short-shorts and a young woman who looked closer to thirty than ten. It wasn’t anything he was happy about, but he’d yet to figure out a way to stop time.

He crossed to where she was on the sofa and took a seat on the coffee table in front of her. Reluctantly, she put down her book and stared at him.

“Hi,” he said pointedly.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Whatcha reading?”

She held up a paperback with a kissing couple on the cover. “Want it when I’m done?”

He recoiled. “No, thanks.”

She smiled. “You sure? Maybe you could learn a few moves.”

He ignored that. “The bus is ready for the trip. You have everything you need?”

She sighed heavily. “It’s a road trip, Dad. I don’t need anything special.”

“But you’ll be visiting the colleges we’re stopping at. Walking around campus, getting a feel for them.”

“Dad, you’re making this more than it is. I’m fine.”

“Which of the colleges are you most interested in? UCLA? University of Oregon?”

Her brown eyes, the same color as his, glazed over. “I have no idea.”

“But there must be one you want to see.”

“Not really.”

She’d been like this for a while, he thought, frustrated by her lack of interest in college. “Lissa, you’re going to be a senior. College applications go out in the fall. So far you haven’t mentioned one school that you like, you won’t talk about your major, nothing. What’s going on?”

She shifted so her feet were flat on the floor. “Why are you pushing me? What’s the big deal? It’s just college, Dad. I’ll get there, but not with you in my face, every second of every day.”

“I’m not in your face.”

“You’re sitting less than two feet from me. What would you call it?”

“I’m curious and supportive. Lissa, what’s going on? You know you’re going to have to make some decisions about your future. You’re not going to be in high school forever. At some point you have to grow up and take responsibility for yourself.”

“And you can’t wait for that, can you?” she snapped, coming to her feet. “You’re just like those birds that push their babies out of the nest. You know what, Dad? Sometimes the babies can’t fly. Sometimes they crash to the ground and they die.”

With that horrific image, she stalked out of the room, down the hall and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

Keith held in a groan. Lately it seemed all his conversations with her were going off the rails and he had no idea why. Was it him? Was it her? Was it a generic teenage thing?

He rubbed his face wishing he were doing a better job at raising a teenage daughter. Maybe if Becky lived closer. But his ex-wife was still in Missoula and had very little contact with Lissa.

Keith shifted to the sofa and leaned his head back. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought. He’d married Becky with the best of intentions. Okay, sure, she’d been pregnant, but he’d been happy about that. Maybe that had forced them to rush things, but he’d been in love with her.

Keith had been drafted by the NFL out of the University of Oklahoma. His five-year career had been spent with him mostly on the bench, as a backup quarterback. He’d had a couple of great games, but not the career he’d hoped for. When his contract hadn’t been renewed, he’d transitioned to coaching at a small college in Montana.

He and Becky had divorced almost immediately. They’d coparented Lissa until Becky had remarried, once again pregnant before the wedding. After the first of two kids had been born, he’d taken on more and more responsibility for their daughter.

Five years ago, he’d been looking for a different kind of challenge when he’d been offered the athletic director position at Birchly High School. He’d thought Becky would fight him on the move, but she’d immediately agreed to give him sole custody of Lissa. At the time he’d worried his daughter would feel rejected by her mother, but she’d seemed happy with the relocation and had settled in nicely.

Now, he thought maybe he was dealing with some serious payback for not suffering before.

He forced himself to his feet. He might not know what to say to his daughter but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t be talking. He headed down the hall and stopped in front of her bedroom door.

“Lissa,” he said as he knocked. “Open up. I want to talk.”

There was no response.

“Lissa?” He waited. Again, nothing. “Lissa, either you open the door or I’m opening it for you.”

He waited thirty seconds, then tried the knob. It was locked. His irritation grew. Did she think she could frustrate him so easily? He went into his bedroom, opened a drawer and pulled out the long, skinny pick that would pop the lock.

Only when he opened her bedroom door, she wasn’t lying on her bed, glaring at him. She wasn’t anywhere. The window was open, the screen on the ground and his daughter was gone.

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