"Hello, Amy – this is Brad."

At the sound of Bradley Taylor’s voice, Amy almost dropped the wooden spoon she was using to mix chocolate cake batter. A broad, excited grin spread over her face.

"Brad! How are you today?" She took a deep breath, not wanting him to detect the quiver of excitement in her voice.

"I’m fine. How about you? Have you managed to warm up yet?" His chuckle was a deep, rich sound that sent shivers radiating through her body.

Yesterday she had bumped into Brad outside the grocery store. She had misjudged the weather that morning and wore only a cotton jacket. Light snow was beginning to fall and Amy shivered, struggling with the heavy paper sack, her fingers beginning to freeze. Then Brad appeared like a knight in shining armor, took the sack and whisked her into a nearby café for a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she said now, shyly.

"You’re very welcome." Brad hesitated. "I actually called with a question for you, Amy."

And the answer is yes, Amy thought jubilantly. Yes. I’ll have supper with you tonight, or go to the movies, or wherever we decide. After a hundred ‘no’s’ she was finally ready to say yes.

"I’m going to need one of your special suppers tomorrow night," he said. "I’m having dinner with someone special."

She came back to earth with a crash as the smile slowly faded from her face. Her heart felt as if it was sinking down to her toes. "I see," she managed.

"I’ll leave the details to you, Amy," Brad went on. "I hear you’re very talented."

Amy cleared her throat. "Is she a vegetarian or following any special kind of diet?" She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded as she asked the question, her pen poised over a waiting notepad.

"I don’t believe so," Brad replied.

"How about a chicken, roasted with a selection of vegetables?"

"Sounds good."

"Would you like a dessert?"

"Hmm….a pie of some kind?"

"How about lemon chiffon?" It was extremely popular with her customers.

"Great!" Brad sounded pleased. "I really appreciate this, Amy, on such short notice."

"I’m happy to do it." Amy tried to sound as happy as he did. "What time would you like me to deliver the food?"

"Deliver the food?" Brad repeated. "Ah….Amy, could you help me serve it? And set the table?"

She swallowed. She could of course, but the last she wanted to do was serve a meal and set a romantic mood for Brad and his special lady. "Sure," she said reluctantly, swallowing back her disappointment.

"Thanks!" He sounded relieved and grateful. "I’ll see you tomorrow night, then – around seven?"

Amy agreed to the time and hung up, her earlier, happier mood completely evaporated. She had misjudged a whole lot more than the weather yesterday.

Despondently, she dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl of batter and crossed to the kitchen window. Amy stared out at the snow that had collected in her small yard and rested her forehead on the cool glass of the window.