A blind date! What on earth had possessed her to agree? And worse yet, a blind date arranged by her great aunt. Ugh. Carolyn had just turned 25. “That hardly makes me an old maid!” she’d said when her mother told her the family was getting concerned about her lackluster love life. It helped that Aunt Opal had fabulous taste and collected men wherever she went, even in her 70s. It also helped that her aunt had bought her this fabulous red purse and matching shoes, just for agreeing to meet Howard, the 30ish podiatrist Aunt Opal had seen recently about a bunion caused by her high heels. Carolyn’s own red heels pinched her toes mercilessly, but she promised to dress “to the nines,” as Aunt Opal put it.
She took a steadying breath before opening the door, a good move, because once she saw the tall man in the who’d rung the bell, Carolyn had a hard time remembering to breathe. “Hello, Carolyn. I’m Howard Bevins. You do favor your beautiful aunt – and I see you have the same fabulous taste in purses and shoes.”