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that wasn't where Sally was going with this. Not down memory lane—down matchmaking lane. No, thank you.
    "I really think you two should spend some time together while you're home," Sally said, taking his arm while they walked down the sidewalk. "I have a feeling you two would really hit it off. And it's perfect, because she's going to moving out west soon." He started to feel the claws tighten around his throat. How could he decline without insulting Sally?
    Obviously, Sally mistook Seth's momentary silence for an invitation to discuss the topic in detail. "Pam's twenty-three," she continued, as Seth thought, Too young. "She's lovely, with long legs like a gazelle, but not lanky, I mean, graceful—like a supermodel—and she's a smart girl, like a genius almost, but not conceited about it, very humble, actually, and she's very liberated, as you young people might say, but not any sort of hussy, of course."
    Quirking his mouth, Seth wondered if Pam would appreciate this bizarre testimonial.
    "And like I said, she really wants to move out west." Christ, what was this, manifest destiny? And since when was "west" synonymous with Seattle? "I just thought if Pam had a friend out there already, that would be so wonderful," Sally finished, with a note of pleading to her voice.
    "Of course," Seth said, quickly latching onto the "friend" part. "If she ever needs anything, she can give me a call—"
    "And like you said, you're not dating anyone right now...."
    "Honestly, Sally, I'm going to be so busy while I'm home. But why don't we all have lunch or something sometime? The three of us," he emphasized.
    "Oh, wonderful! I'll make sure we do," she said, clapping her hands, as her emerald ring caught a flash of sunlight.
    After agreeing to meet back at the car in a couple of hours, Sally turned and headed down the street. She moved quickly and merrily—occasionally looking back to wave. Seth shook his head and chuckled to himself. No, it didn't take long at all for him to feel at home.
    * * *
    Georgette ducked out from the kitchen to set a plate of apple fritters on the table Billy was using. "Help yourself, hon."
    "Thanks, those smell awesome," Billy said, breathing in the sweet apple aroma and trying not to give in to the daily temptation of working in the back, which was more of a median between the front of the store and the kitchen. A clean, cozy space, with white walls, a pink tile floor, and stainless-steel shelves neatly stockpiled with cake boxes, rolls of wax paper, and stacks of paper cups, it was where Billy decorated the cakes. It was also the place where Georgette deposited remainders for the staff to eat—baked goods that didn't look right, but still smelled and tasted delicious, and still had roughly a zillion calories.
    Pausing at the kitchen door, Georgette asked, "By the way, what the hell's a soy nut?"
    If Billy recalled, it was pretty self-explanatory. "It's just a roasted soybean, I think." (Well, it might sound self-explanatory; she never said it sounded good.)
    "Oh, for chris sake," Georgette scoffed irritably, plowing her hand into her fluffy white rooster 'do.
    "Why, what's wrong?"
    "Melissa says I gotta start offerin' 'soy-nut alternatives' for vegans, or some bull crap like that." Behind her clunky pink glasses, she squinted her eyes angrily. "And we all know, whatever the princess wants—"
    She stopped short of saying "she gets," as the alleged princess walked through the door. Georgette turned on her heel to retreat back to the kitchen, when Melissa stopped her. "Wait a sec, Georgette! I have something for you."
    "What is it now?" she barked, and snatched the yellow piece of paper out of Melissa's hand.
    "Two new recipe ideas from the suggestion box," Melissa replied.
    "But—"
    "Donna already approved them."
    With that, Georgette scowled and slapped hard on the kitchen door. Once she was gone, Melissa simply shrugged off her tantrum and filled a paper cup with coffee from the old-fashioned pot in the