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good, but Shirley’s reluctance made him feel somewhat insecure—not a familiar sensation.
    While he waited for Shirley, he checked his watch every couple of minutes. He exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw her park in front of the gallery. She climbed out and started toward the entrance, paused, then turned back to her vehicle.
    Will wasn’t about to let her walk off. He hurried over to the front door and threw it open.
    â€œShirley,” he called. “Come in.”
    She turned around. “The sign says the gallery’s closed.”
    He laughed lightly. “It is for everyone but you.”
    â€œOh…”
    He opened the door wider and gestured her inside.
    â€œDo you have the check?” she asked the moment she crossed the threshold. Then, as if she understood how rude she’d been, she added, “I, uh, know how busy you are and I don’t want to detain you.”
    â€œIt’s in the office.” When she didn’t move, he repeated, “Come in.”
    After a short pause, she came all the way into the gallery.
    Will closed the door and walked toward his small office, with her following. He handed her a white envelope, which held her check. “You know, I never heard if you received the wine-and-cheese basket I left on your doorstep during the holidays.”
    â€œYes, I did…. I apologize. I should’ve written a thank-you note.”
    She did seem appropriately contrite. Will had paid a premium for that basket. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill wine-and-cheese ensemble, either. Everything had been imported from France.
    â€œNo problem. I just wanted to be sure you got it,” he said nonchalantly.
    â€œWhen did you bring it by?” she asked.
    â€œChristmas Day,” he said.
    â€œOh, I hope you weren’t alone on Christmas Day.”
    He looked away. “I was, but it wasn’t any big deal. I had a couple of invitations, but…I didn’t feel well.” He’d rather not admit he hadn’t accepted those invitations—from Olivia and his niece, Justine—because he’d thought he could spend the day with Shirley. He’d made the mistake of assuming she’d be home and alone, the same way he’d been. He knew her kids would be there, but kids that age didn’t enjoy hanging around with their mothers. As a result of his mistaken assumption, he’d ended up going to Olivia’s for dinner and then watching
White Christmas
on TV in his apartment for what had to be the twentieth time.
    â€œI apologize for not sending you that thank-you note,” she told him again.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. I only wanted to make sure you found the gift.” He brightened. “But…” he said in a teasing voice “…you could make it up to me.” He’d keep it light, easy, relaxed.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” she asked, frowning instantly. “How?”
    â€œI know you’re a widow.”
    She took a small step in retreat, as though the subject wasn’t one she intended to discuss with him. That was fine; Will had no desire to draw her dead husband into the conversation. He just wanted to establish her avail-ability—and his.
    â€œAs I mentioned earlier, I’m on my own, too. I thought we could get together one evening,” he said, “or maybe we could meet one afternoon.”
    Shirley took another small step away from him. Now that she had her check, she seemed eager to leave.
    â€œNothing formal, you understand,” Will clarified. “Lunch or coffee, that sort of thing.”
    She gave him a slight smile. “I’m not sure I’m ready to date.”
    â€œThis wouldn’t be a date,” he said. “This would be a chat over coffee, a getting-to-know-you session, that’s all. I’d love to hear more of your ideas for the gallery,” he added, to remind her of the conversation they’d already had back in the fall.