Date with Death

by Elizabeth Lenhard

  Shoes? Piper thought. Okay, clearly Paige and I have different criteria when it comes to men.

  “The guys I date are so random,” Paige continued. “I mean, take that guy I met on the streetcar a few weeks ago. I thought we had a connection but once I got to know him, I realized—poof—we had nothing in common.”

  “Well, c'mon Paige,” Piper said. “You had to know that was a stretch! His name was Lung Chow and he barely spoke English!”

  Paige giggled.

  “I guess you're right,” she said. “I wish I could, you know, shop for men the way you shop for clothes. When you're in a store, you only try on the outfits you think might fit, right? But when you're dating, you have to commit to dinner and a movie with that outfit. And before you even get to the soup, you realize, that's a size twenty-two, orange sweater! That won't fit me at all!”

  “Okay, you completely lost me with the metaphor there,” Piper said with a laugh. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe perk up.

  “You need a kiss!” Phoebe declared to Paige.

  “Phoebe, please,” Paige said. “This is not about necking with some hottie. I'm talking about trying to find love! But I guess kissing wouldn't hurt . . .”

  “Not that kind of kiss,” Phoebe said. “I just ran into some people who told me about Kiss.com. It's a Web site where you . . . shop for men! Just like you said.”

  “Like . . . personal ads?” Paige said, curling her lip. “Isn't that a little desperate?”

  “And Lung Chow from the streetcar isn't?” Phoebe retorted. “Heck, I think it sounds fun. If I were single, I'd go for it.”

  “Go for what?” said a rumbly voice from the back door. It was Cole, who had just slipped into the kitchen from the garage. He winked at Phoebe and said, “Hello, wife-to-be. So . . . go for what?”

  “Go for . . . some meatloaf, I really could,” Phoebe covered quickly. She hopped over to Cole and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then she turned to Piper. “So what else is for dinner, Ma? I'm starving.”

  “Not you too!” Piper said, mock-scowling at her sister and tossing a dinner roll at her. The roll was halfway across the room when Leo orbed in, catching the flying bread right in the eye.

  “Yeow!” he cried, rubbing his head painfully. “I put in a hard day of work in the heavens and this is the homecoming I get?”

  “You got it, sweetie,” Piper said, trotting over to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “And you get meatloaf for dinner.”

  “Great!” Leo said, barely concealing his relief.

  Oh yeah, I'm Harriet Nelson all right, Piper thought as she started setting the table. But I guess it could be worse. I could be surfing for dates on Kiss.com.

  I can't believe I'm surfing for dates on Kiss.com, Paige thought with a moan. She was clicking away at the Halliwell computer, which was stashed on Grams's old Victorian desk in the kitchen. The fact that she was bloated from too much mashed potatoes didn't help matters. She heaved a big sigh.

  “Okay,” Paige muttered as she scrolled through picture after picture, “these pickings are way slim. Here's a picture of . . . Nigel, who desperately needs a green card, not to mention some orthodontia. And then there's Nathan. A mouth-breather, I can just tell. And, whoa, how many chins does that dude have? The jpeg's kind of fuzzy but I think I see . . . four?

  “This is definitely not as fun as shopping,” Paige continued. “What a bunch of lo—hel-lo! Who's this?”

  Paige was feasting her eyes on a hottie with a head full of soft brown curls, a Matt Damon grin, and broad shoulders. The screen name next to the picture was, “Just James.”

  Well . . . maybe I'll give Kiss.com a try after all, Paige said with a little grin. She opened the computer scanner and slipped in a picture of herself. In the snapshot she was winking and wearing her favorite, skimpy halter top.

  “Okay, so it's a little over the top,” Paige murmured as the cheesecake shot suddenly appeared on her computer screen. “But it is a competitive market!”

  Next, Paige clicked the POST AN AD button and dashed off a quick paragraph:

  “Me? Acaffeine addict with a dry wit, a closet full of high heels, a stereo set too loud, and a passion for my work. You? You know a fine wine and you can make a girl laugh. You don't smoke, but you do dance. You treat your mother right. And when it comes to the love of your life? You're looking for a little magic.”

  “Truer than you know, boys,” Paige said wryly. “Well, let's see what happens.”

  And with that, she moved her cursor to the SEND button and gave it an adamant click.

  chapter

  2

  “At laaasst, my looooove is here to stay . . .”

  Paige was stuck in traffic in her VW bug, glaring at the radio.

  Lovely, she thought. I had a totally stressful day at the clinic trying to place a kid in foster care. Now I'm jammed neck-deep in traffic. And the music is mocking me. My love isn't here to stay. I have no love. I'm like Bridget Jones without the British accent.

  She switched to her favorite jazz station. She could always count on that for some awesome Charlie Parker.

  “Someday he'll come along . . .” crooned a silky woman's voice. “The man I loooove . . .”

  “Whatever!” Paige sputtered, clicking the radio off. “I swear, Valentine's Day is still two weeks away. Isn't this a little excessive?”

  Paige sighed as she finally turned off the crammed main drag onto her own street. She parked in front of Halliwell Manor and stomped up the steps to the front door. She was that close to slamming it on her way in but stopped herself at the last moment.

  Hmmm . . . I just realized I don't yet know the door-slamming policy at Halliwell Manor, she thought. Does Piper hate it? Does it give Phoebe a migraine? Does Phoebe get migraines?

  Paige shook her head as she made a beeline for the kitchen.

  I'm still getting used to this strangers-as-sisters thing, she thought.

  Speaking of which, there was Piper at the kitchen computer.

  “Hi,” Piper called, waving distractedly as Paige slumped against the counter. “I'm looking for some new recipes. Something . . . exciting, yet totally traditional. You think that exists?”

  “Sounds like a stretch to me,” Paige said with a shrug.

  “You're probably right,” Piper said, rolling her eyes. “So how was your day at the office, Biff?”

  “Oh, the usual—attempts to create social change. Failure to create social change,” Paige joked. She forced herself to smile. “Thanks for asking, by the way. I mean, since singletons are supposed to be invisible this month.”

  “Excuse me?” Piper said, tearing her eyes from the computer screen to scrutinize Paige. “What are you talking about?”

  “It's February, remember?” Paige complained. “Everywhere you go, red and pink! Love songs on every station. Couples nuzzling each other in supermarkets. Ew.”

  “Oh,” Piper said, glancing back at the computer. “So I guess it's safe to say you haven't been kissed?”

  “Oh, you mean Kiss.com?” Paige said. She felt a flutter of anxiety in her stomach. Ever since she'd put her picture on the site two nights ealier, she'd regretted it.

  “Well, I haven't exactly checked back in,” she admitted.

  “Okay, why?” Piper said gently.

  “I'm just sure it's going to be depressing!” Paige admitted, pulling a chair away from the kitchen table and plopping down next to Piper. “I mean, I wrote a note to this one guy—Just James. But what if he didn't write back? What if he found me repulsive?”

  “Repulsive?” Piper asked. Paige could tell she was suppressing a laugh. “Yeah, that's gonna happen. But on the other hand, so what if he does? Maybe some other guy who's a whole lot better than Just James has spotted you.”

  “Okay, that's the other thing,” Paige said. “Suppose some guys write to me. And they're all a bunch of dweebs. Then I learn that . . . I attract dweebs. Or jerks. Or comic-reading, strange-smelling supergeeks. I'm not sure if I'
m ready to learn that those kinds of guys are my type.”

  As Paige finished her outburst, she bit her lip. She knew she was being irrational. In fact, she was regretting every word that had just come out of her mouth. Until Piper reacted in a way that was downright . . . sisterly.

  “Paige,” Piper said, reaching over to smooth down a tousled lock of Paige's black hair. “Believe me, you are not the dweeb type. Unreliable rock-and-roll dudes, maybe.”

  Paige had to laugh. Piper had her pegged.

  “But that's only because you're so cool,” Piper continued. “Now I'm going to make you some herbal tea and you are going to sit down and log onto Kiss.com. I'm sure it's not going to be as bad as all that.”

  Paige grinned gratefully as Piper stood up and prodded her into the desk chair.

  “You better watch it,” she said to Piper. “A girl could get used to this big sister routine.”

  “Count on it,” Piper said with her typical sweet bluntness. Then she pointed at the computer's mouse. “Now start pointing and clicking. I'll brew up the Tension Tamer.”

  Paige laughed as she typed in the Web site's address. Then she keyed in her password and held her breath. A window popped up.

  “You've been kissed with forty-three messages,” it read.

  “Whoa!” Paige exclaimed. “Um, Piper . . . you better make that an extra-large tea. I think I'm going to be here for a while.”

  An hour later, Paige was still responding to her eager e-suitors.

  Some of the first responses had been . . . discouraging.

  “Hey, Sugar Lips,” wrote a guy called Blue-Eyed Babe. “U are 2 cute. Let's get together.”

  “Ick!” Paige had cried. “Delete, delete, delete.”

  Then there was the math professor who wrote her a numeric love ode. And the dude who might have been pretty hot, 250 pounds ago.

  But then she clicked on a note from . . . Just James! He sounded totally nice and had asked her to meet him for coffee the next day.

  And after Just James, things only got better. Piper had been right. So far Paige had made dates with an E.R. doctor with sandy blond hair and incredibly white teeth. A public-aid lawyer whose politics were identical to Paige's. And a surfer who wrote poetry.

  Now Paige was reading a profile of a whimsical ice-cream entrepreneur.

  “Sure, Rocky Road,” Paige typed quickly. “Why don't we get together. How's . . .”

  Paige paused to check her Palm Pilot. Her calendar was getting sort of crammed. But Rocky Road was just too cute to resist.

  “. . . lunch on Thursday?” she typed.

  As she hit SEND, she blinked. Aquick spasm of light had shot out of the computer. It was so quick, she almost thought it was her imagination.

  “Huh,” she muttered as she clicked on the next guy's e-mail. This one was a veterinarian with red curls and green eyes and five brothers and sisters.

  “This is too good to be true,” Paige muttered as she typed, “Coffee, tomorrow night?” Then she moved her cursor to the send button.

  Click. (Flash.)

  “It keeps doing that,” Paige said, shaking her head to clear the spots from her eyes. “I wonder if something's wrong with the computer. I'll have to remember to mention it to Piper. . . . Ooh, who's this one? A fellow social worker? Be still my heart.”

  Click. (Flash.)

  Paige wended her way through almost all forty-three of her messages before she called it quits.

  “I'll have to come back for the rest,” she yawned, moving the mouse to send off her last response.

  Click. (Flash.)

  She shook her head blearily and stood up. Instantly she felt a wave of dizziness swoop through her head.

  “Whoa,” she whispered, grabbing the desk chair for support. She stood still for a moment and tried to shake the fog out of her brain.

  “I guess all that admiration went to my head,” she said. Then, as the dizziness passed, she giggled.

  Immediately Piper and Phoebe poked their heads into the kitchen.

  “Do I hear laughter?” Piper said. “As in success?”

  “So!” Paige said, thrusting her Palm Pilot out to them. “Check it out. I'm booked solid for the next week. Lunch dates, coffee dates, dinners, drinks. I'm, like, the prom queen of Kiss.com.”

  “I think I created a monster,” Piper said, gaping at the crowded calendar page on Paige's Palm Pilot. “You really want to date all these guys?”

  “It's called playing the field,” Phoebe said with a smile. “I used to do it all the time.”

  “I remember,” Piper said dryly. “And that was before they invented the Palm Pilot. Remember when those two guys, both named Jeff, showed up for a date at the same time?”

  “Those were the days,” Phoebe said dreamily.

  Paige winked at her and then turned to grin at Piper.

  “Don't you worry,” Paige said. “I've got a grip. I'll just check these guys out and then narrow it down to, oh, three or four with real potential.”

  “Three or four?!” said a voice behind her. Paige whipped around to see Leo, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. “You're going to date three or four men at the same time? Isn't that a little . . . fast?”

  “Leo,” Phoebe squealed. “There's nothing wrong with it. Might I remind you, it's the twenty-first century. Women work now, and we vote and we date.”

  “I'm well aware,” Leo said dryly. “I'm married to a lady business owner, aren't I?”

  “Lady business owner?” Piper protested. “What am I? Mary Kay?”

  “Oh-kay,” Paige said, stepping between her sister and brother-in-law. “I'd love to listen to this oh-so-retro repartee, but I have to get ready. My first date is dinner in, oh, about two hours.”

  “You're kidding!” Piper said. “Paige, I think Leo's right. That's fast!”

  “Don't listen to them,” Phoebe said, slinging an arm around Paige's shoulders. “I think it's great! In fact, I'm going to help you get ready. Let me introduce you to one of the joys of being a Halliwell. You get to raid your sister's closet before a big date.”

  “You read my mind,” Paige said with a grin as she followed Phoebe out of the kitchen. As she climbed the stairs to Phoebe's bedroom, she found herself cheerfully humming a familiar tune.

  “At laaaaast,” she sang softly, “my loooove is here to stay.”

  • • •

  Piper watched Paige and Phoebe trot out of the kitchen. Then she turned to grin at her husband.

  “I guess love is in the air,” she said, slipping into his arms and planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.

  “Do you ever miss being single?” Leo said, gazing into Piper's eyes and smoothing a lock of hair off her forehead. “Being picked up at the door? Being taken out by a guy who isn't, um, dead and can, say, pick up the dinner check?”

  Piper laughed and gave Leo another kiss.

  “Not for a minute,” she said sweetly. “Who wants to date when you can be married to an angel? And besides, I told you I was never beating the boys off with sticks.”

  “That's only because those fellas were too dumb to see how special you are,” Leo said. His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at his wife. “Lucky for me.”

  Piper felt a warm and gooey sensation spread through her. She and Leo hadn't had a mushy conversation like this in so long!

  “No, I'm the one who's lucky,” she said, snuggling up against his strong chest.

  “So what's for dinner?” Leo asked, rubbing her back idly.

  Piper started.

  Oh-kay, she thought. Enough with the goo. Ozzie Nelson is back. She pushed Leo away and shrugged.

  “Yeah,” she said dryly. “I was just looking up some recipes. I'll get right on that.”

  “Piper,” Leo said, catching her elbow. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Noooo,” Piper said. “You were just . . . being a husband, that's all.”

  Leo's worried face relaxed again.

  “You got it,” he
said sweetly. “And you're my wife. Just the way I want it.”

  Piper smiled weakly and turned to the computer as Leo wandered out of the kitchen. She sighed as she started to type in the address to the recipe Web site.

  But then something caught her eye. The Internet was still tuned to Kiss.com, she realized. Hovering above a window that said, “Paige Matthews, you have eight unopened messages,” was one of those flashing ad banners.

  “Is your relationship in a rut?” the ad read. “Do you and your mate have what it takes to go the distance? Do you care enough to find out?”

  “Can you say manipulative?” Piper muttered, rolling her eyes. She started to click back to her recipe page, but something made her drag the cursor over to the ad.

  “Just curious . . .” she whispered as she clicked on it. Suddenly she was gazing at a busy Web site filled with urgently bouncing hearts and pulsing hotlinks. The Website's name flashed at the top of the screen.

  “Women are Cats, Men are Dogs,” Piper read out loud. “Well, that sort of makes sense . . .” Then her eye fell on a link.

  “Humdrum husband?” it read. “Our relationship regimen will snap that marriage back into shape.”

  Hmmm, Piper thought, casually clicking on the link. The screen filled with a list of about a dozen quizzes, exercises, and games you could play to raise your consciousness and jump-start your marriage.

  “Oh, please,” Piper said to herself. “That's so Oprah. But then again . . . Oprah is really popular!”

  Before Piper knew it she was printing out a stack of quizzes and questionnaires.

  “Why not?” she said to herself blithely. “It's not like Leo and I have to take these things seriously. It'll be fun!”

  Phoebe could dimly hear Paige's voice, but she couldn't understand a word she was saying.

  “Wait a minute,” Phoebe said, awkwardly extricating herself from the crowded depths of her walk-in closet. She was holding a very short, green leather skirt in one hand and a gauzy black sweater in the other. She tossed them to Paige, who was sitting on the bed amongst a stack of other sexy date clothes. “I couldn't hear you.”