Too bad there wasn't a kissing booth, Kate thought haphazardly, then

squinted. Okay, easy. Must be the lack of sleep.

“Kate, why don't you come to the carnival tonight? You'll need a break, won't you?”

“Carnival?” she said in her best who me? tone.

“Yes, the Community Center Carnival. Remember, that's what the Thread

Heads were meeting about last time you were here? It's a fundraiser we do every

fall. This year it's for the wounded veteran's group. Peter will be there.”

As if that was supposed to be the clincher. “Well, I suppose maybe I can take

a break. For a few minutes.”

Peter was just standing there looking like a big gorgeous puppy, arms folded.

“Actually, I could use some help with the face painting booth,” Carol said.

“What time?” Kate asked. Well, she really would need a break later.

Anyway, she could hunker down all day tomorrow.

“Starts at seven,” Peter said.

Kate thought, then nodded. “Okay.”

“It's a date,” Carol said.

Kate glared at her.

“Good,” Peter said, heading back to the door. “Sorry, I've got to go. I still need to pick up the helium tank for the balloons.”

He wafted by, and Kate inhaled.

“Ladies,” he said, and let himself out.

“Such a nice man,” Carol said dreamily.

Kate sauntered over to her friend. “You know, he's single,” she said

suggestively. “Have you ever heard of May-December romances?”

That got her a swat. “Oh, stop. And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For agreeing to help. Gives you a chance to see some of the community

again.”

She hadn't thought of that. Mixing with the denizens of Golden Grove again?

She sighed. Well, it was for a good cause, and maybe it would give her some inspiration for her proposal. After all, that was at least part of why she'd decided to drive to Golden Grove and work here instead of Chicago this weekend, right?

“Are the men in Chicago as nice as him?” Carol asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are the men in Chicago nice?”

“Yes, Carol, they're very nice. They open the door for you, sometimes they

bathe, and they don't dip your pigtails in the inkwell.”

“As nice as Peter? He's been such a nice neighbor to have. So helpful.”

“Sure he's nice. He's nice to everyone. He's got a virulent, terminal case of

nice. When God was handing out niceness he looked at Peter and just

said…'nice!' He's the niceness king. If niceness were an Olympic event—”

“Katie. Kate?”

“What?”

“You're babbling.

Kate put her hand on her forehead. “I know. I need a nap.” She sat on the couch. “But doesn't it make you a little crazy sometimes that he's so…you know…” She flopped her hands, searching for the word.

“Nice?” Carol offered.

Kate put her hands over her ears. “Yarggh, stop saying that word.”

Carol burst out laughing.

“What?”

Carol waved her hand, still chuckling. “Look at you. Most women complain

because men are too mean or stupid or lazy, and you're getting all bent out of shape because someone's too nice.”

Kate scrunched her lips, then sighed. Carol might act like a matchmaking busybody at times, but she was a friend. More than that, almost a surrogate mom.

“I guess that's the point. He's just being nice to me like he's nice to everyone