Page 2 of A Match Made In Fall

“Oh we know,” Sammy says.

The woman behind the counter smiles. “Welcome to Coffee Corner Café.”

“Thank you,” my mom says.

“Eloise, this is my mother-in-law, Michelle, and sister-in-law, Isabella,” Sammy says.

We both say hello.

“Eloise owns the shop,” Sammy adds.

“Oh, I love it,” I exclaim. “It’s so cozy and welcoming.”

“Thank you,” Eloise exclaims. “And I need to tell you, my friend Abby and I are huge fans of Ballroom Dance America.”

I give her a surprised look. “Really? Aww, thank you so much.”

Sometimes I forget that people watch the show. We are new and aren’t as well-known as other performance shows where people dance with celebrities, but it’s fun and its popularity is growing.

“How are you doing?” she asks, pointing to my leg.

“A lot better,” I say. “Just ready to get rid of the crutches. And ready to be out and about in the world again. Hopefully within the next week or two.”

“Isabella is not the best patient,” my mom chimes in.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, and I learned from the best. I believe you were up and moving after your gallbladder surgery despite the doctors instructions.”

My mom shrugs nonchalantly. “Anyway, what shall we order? Eloise, what do you recommend?”

I smirk. My mother doesn’t like being called out for anything.

We place our drink orders while Eloise suggests a few of her favorite menu items. Once everything is in, the three of us settle in at a nearby table and relax.

“I was just telling Eloise that we’re going to that hockey game tonight,” Sammy tells us.

“You’ll have fun,” Eloise calls. “My friend Abby’s fiancé is the goalie.”

“Yes, I was just informed that we were going to the game,” I say. “Mom going to a hockey game should be interesting.”

“You need to get out. You’ve been couped up in the house for weeks,” Sammy tells me.

She’s not wrong.

“I’ll introduce you to Abby,” Eloise tells us. “She can probably get you all passes for a meet and greet with the players.”

“Oh Dane would love that,” Sammy exclaims. “He’s like a little kid when it comes to getting autographs.”

“He’s always been like that,” I say. “I remember when Dad took us to a Tampa Bay Buccaneers game years ago, he cared more about getting a football signed than watching the actual game.”

We all laugh while Eloise brings us a variety of pastries.

“Do you think your friend would be able to get us a meet and greet?” Sammy asks her.

Eloise nods. “Definitely. I’ll text her now. She works around the corner at the med spa, so she might be able to pop over in between her patients while you’re here.”

“She’s so nice,” my mom says as Eloise leaves the table—no attempt at a whisper. Then again, no one in our family is good a whispering.

The conversation shifts from hockey to baby Jude’s eating and sleeping habits. While I adore this child, the contents of his diapers are none of my business. I half listen as I scroll through messages on my phone. I’m still on all the chats with my co-dancers and staying updated on all the details of the ongoing season.