An Accidental Kiss (Dearly Beloved) by Dawn Douglas

January
    Marcy Garret sighed blissfully as the romantic movie ended.
    Sitting beside her on the couch, wrapped in a soft as silk fleece wrap, her fourteen going-on-forty year old daughter snorted. “Yeah, right!”
    Marcy looked at her. “What?”
    “Mom, it’s a nice fantasy, but let’s get real.”
    “People fall in love and get married all the time.”
    “Well, I’m not holding my breath waiting for that to happen,” Justine said as she came off the couch then strolled from the room on her way to bed.
    Marcy switched off the television, went into the kitchen and poured another generous glass of wine. Why did she feel so sad? Wandering into her bedroom, she pulled aside the drapes and watched the snowflakes drifting down onto her Denver neighborhood of aging ranch homes. It was such a pretty scene. Her eyes filled with unexpected tears and impatiently, she swiped them away.
    What the hell is wrong with me?
    Could she be getting her menopause? She was forty-five, a little young she’d have thought, but maybe this was it, the beginning of a slippery slope toward depression, night sweats and mood swings. After that she’d have gray hair, dentures and arthritis to look forward to.
    “Heaven help me,” she muttered to the empty room.
    Perhaps Justine had a point and it was time she quit holding her breath waiting for Mr. Right to come along. It had become pretty obvious that would never happen.
    Mr. Right left the building a long time ago.
    The phone rang and she picked up, sighing. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
    “Hi, sweetie pie. Are you having a good evening?”
    Marcy looked out at the gathering snow, hoping the roads wouldn’t be too icy in the morning. “It’s been okay.”
    “Just okay? You sound like you could use some excitement.”
    Marcy pulled the drapes closed. “No.”
    “Excuse me?’
    Her mother’s baffled tone didn’t fool her for one second. “I am not going on another blind date.”
    “This one’s different, I swear,” Kath promised, not for the first time.
    A strange thing happened then; Marcy experienced a little flutter of hope, even though she should have known better.
    “His name is Frank Anderson—he’s a writer. Have you heard of him?”
    “Of course I have, his books are always being checked out at work.” She didn’t care for westerns, had never read any, but felt a stirring of curiosity for anyone who could craft something that would make the best seller lists.
    “One of his books has been made into a movie,” her mother informed her proudly. “And this major celebrity is chomping at the bit to take you, Marcy Ann Garrett, out to dinner and a movie Thursday night.”
    “I can’t.” There it went again, that wisp of hope fluttering around like something trapped inside her and trying desperately to escape.
    One of her mother’s weary sighs came down the line. “Marcy, life is not like one of those romantic comedies you so love to watch. Attractive men don’t generally come knocking at our front door or get trapped with us in snowstorms. Sometimes fate needs a little helping hand.”
    She would probably regret this, Marcy thought as she opened her mouth. “Fine.”
    “Fine?” Her mother sounded as if she hardly dared hope. “Fine as in...you’ll meet him?”
    “Yes, but you have to make me a promise—if fate doesn’t come through for me this time, you’ll give up, leave me alone and stop arranging these stupid blind dates.”
    “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Kath agreed meekly. “Frank will be giving you a call—he’s got your number.”
    “Mom, I mean it.”
    “Your father’s calling me, I’ve got to say bye,” Kath interrupted. “Good luck, honey!”
    Slowly, Marcy hung up the phone, knowing she’d probably just made another terrible mistake. Blind dates were not a good way to meet men, especially when arranged by interfering mothers. The trouble was her lifestyle didn’t allow much spare time to meet members of the opposite sex. Working