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underwear.”
    But then she pictured Treat’s admiring
gaze. He’d almost kissed her the other night. He hadn’t made any
sort of move on her since, but then they were in the café with all
sorts of people around.
    Olivia tugged on her
sleeve. “You’re daydreaming in such a way that it leads me to
believe that you do have a use for it. Tell me.”
    Two women pushed past them into the
café.
    “ Saved by the bell,” Olivia
said. “But don’t expect that I’m going to let you off the hook so
easily. I want to hear about him later.”
    Eve laughed. “Okay.”
    “ You can tell me how it
goes with Margaret too.” She hugged her tight and then briskly
sauntered out.
    Eve watched her walk to the end of the
block. Then she picked up her discarded rag and went back to the
counter. “One day, when I grow up, maybe Olivia will teach me how
to walk like that.”
    “ That girl doesn’t walk.
She sashays.” Allison shook her head in admiration. “I’ve seen men
walk into signs, watching her go down the street.”
    “ And yet no man’s claimed
her.”
    Allison shrugged. “There’s more to
some stories than meets the eyes.”
    “ Speaking of...” She took
off her apron and folded it. “Will you be okay for a few minutes on
your own? I have an errand.”
    “ Go. I’ll be
fine.”
    She didn’t have far to go.
Crumpet was just across the street, closer to the other end of the
block. She saw the closed sign before she got to the door, but she knocked
anyway.
    Her chance paid off when a statuesque
woman opened the door. She looked expensive and put together like
the women in Laurel Heights usually did, with her hair styled into
a twist and a strand of lustrous pearls at her neck.
    Her expression was less than
welcoming, and her tone was even colder. “Yes?”
    Eve pasted her friendliest smile on.
“My name is Eve. I own Grounds for Thought, down the
street.”
    She paused, waiting for some sort of
thaw. When nothing happened, she mentally shrugged and continued.
“You had someone passing out flyers in front of my café. I’m sure
it was a mistake.”
    “ I don’t believe there’s
any regulation that says I can’t pass out flyers on the
street.”
    Eve blinked at the frigid tone. “No,
but—”
    “ And you don’t own the
sidewalk, do you?” The woman arched a haughty eyebrow.
    Irritation bit at her.
“No.”
    “ Well then.” She tipped her
head, condescension oozing off her in waves. “Is that
all?”
    No, it wasn’t all, but she didn’t want
to alienate her neighbor. There had to be a way to melt Margaret’s
cold exterior. She was probably a nice woman on the
inside.
    “ Goodbye then.” She closed
the door quietly but firmly in her face.
    “ Or not,” Eve muttered. She
frowned at the teahouse and walked back to her shop, feeling better
the moment she stepped instead. The warm, homey air enveloped her,
ridding her of the chill she’d gotten.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Margaret started walking out of
necessity after Harry’s death. It was either that or go
insane.
    She hadn’t continued because she loved
it. It wasn’t for the nature, or the exercise benefits. If she
didn’t walk, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself in the
morning.
    Truth be told, she hated walking. San
Francisco was cold and foggy most of the year, especially in the
Presidio, and the smell of the eucalyptus trees made her
sneeze.
    Today she was especially eager to get
home. Her day was planned: shower, change, and work. She thought
about the pile of bills she had waiting for her and felt her
stomach clench. But later she had a phone appointment with Carmen
McKnight, Daniela Rossi’s publicist.
    It’d taken some research and a few
calls, but she’d finally managed to get Ms. McKnight’s phone
number. The woman had been loathe to give her the time of day, but
Margaret didn’t take no for an answer.
    She planned on getting this cookbook
party too.
    For the first time since she opened
Crumpet she felt charged with