They lived fifteen miles from each other. Although Anna offered to drive the distance to make it easier on Harley, Harley was looking forward to an adventure, so they arranged to meet at an inn that was about half way for both women. The inn was quaint, off a gravel road which wound around a revolutionary war battlefield dotted with headstones. Built of gray stone, black shutters adorned the windows. Coming closer to the inn, Harley’s heart sank; they’d decorated for Christmas already and she knew it would be emotional for her. Electric candles shined through the glum of the day, pine roping secured with red velvet ribbon encircled the porch railing. The beauty of it, quintessential Philadelphia, brought tears to her eyes.
“It’s after Thanksgiving. Pull it together, girlfriend,” she uttered. “You’re making memories with Jason’s possible wife.”
Peeking in the rearview mirror, she was satisfied that nothing more could be done for her appearance. “I’m a sick woman. What do you expect?” Makeup tended to sit on the surface of her skin like paint, so she applied only lip-gloss and eyeliner, just a small amount of eyebrow pencil. The pallor of her skin was like a death mask. Pulling her collar up as far as it would go and her stocking cap, knitted by Tina, down to her painted on eyebrows, she decided it was as good as it got.
Excerpt from Perfect for Him by Suzanne Jenkins
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