A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Melinda Curtis

  “It looks great.” Kevin made the appropriate sounds of approval. His mother always had a theme or color scheme for her tree. He’d never seen black on a Christmas tree but it fit his mood.

  Tad gasped. “Look. There’s already a present under there.” He dropped to his knees. “And it’s to me!” He glanced up at Kevin. “Can I open it?”

  “No. It’s a Christmas present. Not an everyday present.” Kevin pointed out the Santa-themed wrapping paper.

  Tad fell onto his back and held his fists to his stomach as if he’d been stabbed. “But it’s forever until Christmas.”

  “Isn’t it funny how some things in life seem like they last forever.” Dad handed Kevin a double. “But it’s actually only one small moment in a lifetime. I wouldn’t stress.” He looked from his son to his grandson.

  “Wise words, old man.” Kevin drank half of the whiskey, letting it burn its way down his throat. “Tad, the wait will be made easier because you’re getting a mile-high whip today.”

  Tad sat up with a dramatic gasp. “I never get mile-high whips.”

  “And pancakes.” Kevin finished the last of his drink and drew a deep breath. “I’m ready to face the world.”

  Dad clapped him on the shoulder and took the tumbler to the kitchen.

  “How did the wrapping go last night?” Mom came down the hall, putting her jacket on. “I felt bad about sending you but we’d made plans with the Reeds.”

  “I fluffed bows and encouraged people to get creative with their tags while Maggie wrapped.”

  Mom picked up her purse from the table in the foyer. “Who’s Maggie?”

  “Mary Margaret.” Kevin realized he probably shouldn’t be calling her that in front of anyone else.

  “Oh, so now she’s Maggie.” His mother’s voice took on that knowing tone.

  “She’s the perfect girl for a second go-round.” Dad returned and took his jacket off a hook near the door. “When you marry her, she’ll become ineligible for the Widows Club fashion show. And then everyone would forget…”

  Kevin and his mother stared at him.

  “Forget what, hon?” Mom demanded sharply.

  “Nothing,” his father mumbled.

  Mom swung around to face Kevin, slim eyebrows raised.

  “No clue.” Kevin held up his hands.

  But then he remembered why his father had stepped in it. Kevin had emceed a few Widows Club fashion shows over the last few years. Maggie had participated last spring. She’d strutted down that catwalk like she’d owned it.

  Like Roxy.

  Kevin smiled. There was hope for that kiss yet. “What’s wrong with the way Maggie was in the fashion show?”

  “Never mind,” Dad mumbled.

  Mom swatted Dad’s arm.

  Kevin shepherded them out the door and into his SUV, his mood considerably lightened.

  * * *

  Mary Margaret dressed conservatively for breakfast with her grandmother at the Saddle Horn.

  A gray tunic sweater. Jeans. Boots. Her hair in a thick braid covering her kinked neck.

  She was working on her second cup of coffee when Grandma Edith came in. She waved to her cronies on the Widows Club board. They sat in their usual corner booth in the back.

  “Mornin’.” Pearl appeared at their table with the coffee pot and a holster with a can of whipped cream, ready to make mile-high whips.

  Grandma Edith fished in her purse for several little containers of flavored creamer. “I’ll have coffee, Pearl. Room for cream.”

  “And…” Pearl only filled Grandma Edith’s cup halfway.

  “And I’ll have the special, only without the blueberries and whipped cream.” Grandma Edith leaned over her mug and whispered toward Mary Margaret, “My undergarments last night gave me the fumes. I’ve decided to lose a few pounds.” She busied herself doctoring her coffee.

  “Hence the pancakes and creamer,” Pearl deadpanned, staring at Mary Margaret. “And you?”

  “I’ll have two eggs scrambled.” Mary Margaret swiped one of her grandmother’s flavored creamers and added it to her own coffee as Pearl left them. “Didn’t Pearl used to give you French vanilla creamers?”

  “Yes.” Grandma Edith sniffed. “But they started charging me for them. I can get them cheaper at Emory’s Grocery.”

  Over at the counter, Laurel and Hardy were eating breakfast. Mr. Laurel gave Mary Margaret a narrow-eyed stare before beaming at Grandma Edith.

  Who beamed back.

  Mary Margaret’s stomach slid to the floor. “You don’t talk to that man, do you?” She nodded toward Mr. Laurel and then used her commanding kindergarten voice. “The tall man who’s at least twenty years younger than you.”

  “Who cares how old he is?” Grandma Edith executed a little shoulder shimmy, accented by an eyelash flutter. “He paid my cover last night.”

  “And how did David feel about that?” Trying to garner her grandmother’s attention, Mary Margaret shifted her torso back and forth—stiffly, given her neck issues.

  Meanwhile, her grandmother had her own style of fidgeting. Flutter. Shoulder roll. Coquettish smile.

  “Grandma.” Mary Margaret snapped her fingers in the air between them. “Grandma Edith. I asked you a question.”

  “What?” Her grandmother returned her attention to Mary Margaret. “You know, there’s a ritual to catching a man. Haven’t you ever watched National Geographic?”

  Mary Margaret considered thunking her forehead on the Formica. “I wanted to know how your date was last night.”

  “David thought I was interesting and adventurous given I took him…” Grandma Edith leaned forward once more.

  Mary Margaret had a feeling this was going to be a whisper-laden breakfast.

  “…to a strip club. As he should. I am interesting and adventurous. I’m starting to get my feminine mojo back.”

  “It’s burlesque.” Mary Margaret massaged her neck. “Not stripping. Nothing comes off.”

  “Never?” Grandma Edith looked more shocked at this than at Mary Margaret’s part-time job.

  “Never,” Mary Margaret reassured her.

  “That’s not quite as adventurous.” Grandma Edith pursed her lips in disappointment. “I assumed the stripping part came during the late show. David had to get home. He had an early breakfast appointment.”

  “That was the only show of the night. And from what I hear about town, it’s more likely David had an early morning date, not a breakfast appointment.” Mary Margaret glanced around, surprised that David wasn’t here with another woman.

  Kevin entered the diner with his parents and Tad. His glance was warm and made Mary Margaret want to flutter her hands, roll her shoulders, and bat her eyes. But then she noticed his parents. They scrutinized Mary Margaret as if they were bartending and she was underage and trying to buy a drink with fake I.D.

  What had Kevin told them about her? That she was a dead-fish kisser? Mary Margaret frowned.

  “I was shocked last night,” Grandma Edith was saying. “I didn’t let David see I was but still…”

  The Hadleys were seated in the back dining room, where families with kids let them order hot chocolate topped with four to six inches of whipped cream. The topping wasn’t for eating. Kids dunked their faces in it, creating white beards and mustaches. Mary Margaret had been told it was a tradition started by Pearl decades earlier to keep her daughter, Bitsy, busy while she worked. Today, gray-haired Pearl topped off the whip to the delight of several children. As a grown up, Bitsy sipped tea in the corner booth.

  Kevin stared at Mary Margaret over the top of his menu, smiling like he wanted to coax her into another kiss.

  If only his kisses could wipe away all her debt.

  “I was torn while I watched you.” Grandma Edith paused to sip her coffee. “On the one hand, I wanted to storm the stage and throw my coat around you. Is this an addiction of yours? Should I get you in counseling? You can’t tell me that’s normal.”

  Tad fairly
trembled with excitement when Pearl brought him his mug and topped it with inches and inches of whipped cream. He dunked his entire face in it and then turned to Kevin, grinning and dripping and having a wonderful time.

  Something inside Mary Margaret panged. Not being a child of Sunshine, she’d never had a mile-high whip of her own. She’d never be a part of that ritual, never a part of the Hadley family.

  “On the other hand…” Grandma Edith leaned forward to whisper, “Tell me everything. How did you start? I couldn’t sleep last night for wondering if—”

  “Stop right there.” Mary Margaret recognized that tone. It was her grandmother’s I-can-do-that octave. “Mom would kill me if you started an exotic dance career. You know…You have to know. That’s why we don’t talk.” She confessed how she’d paid her way through college.

  “And here I thought he’d caught you with a boy. Pfft. Dancing. They talk about dancing in the Bible, you know.” Grandma Edith smiled conspiratorially. “I’m going to need a stage name.”

  Mary Margaret shook her head once, stopped by the pulled muscle. “It’s not going to happen. And it’s not safe.” Not when reputations were at stake.

  Reality was, Ned would never allow Grandma Edith on stage. He was so uptight that he wouldn’t allow men, much less older women.

  Reality was, Mary Margaret couldn’t keep her side gig a secret forever. Her livelihood and Kevin’s reputation, if she didn’t keep him at arm’s length, were at stake.

  Reality sucked.

  “Not safe?” Grandma Edith’s eyes narrowed. “Are you undercover? Is that why those two men slashed your tires the other night?” She didn’t wait for Mary Margaret to answer. “It is. No one would ever expect a kindergarten teacher to go deep undercover. And sticking your tires throws the real baddies off the scent. I knew there was a reason I liked that tall man.”

  Kevin was giving his order to Pearl but his eyes were on Mary Margaret, stealing her breath, depriving her brain of much-needed oxygen to follow her grandmother’s logic, to register her grandmother’s shoulder roll, eye flutter, and coquettish smile for what it was. And then her words sank in.

  She thinks I’m undercover. She thinks Mr. Laurel is a good guy.

  Mary Margaret drew a deep breath, prepared to argue, when it hit her. The undercover alibi worked perfectly for her grandmother. If Grandma Edith slipped and said anything about this, no one would believe her. Mary Margaret would have to figure out a way to clarify that Mr. Laurel was not on the right side of the law, but the ruse could work.

  “You’re right.” Mary Margaret tried to look contrite. “I’m undercover. Someone contacted the sheriff looking for recruits who could dance.”

  “It’s why you don’t want to drive your car,” Grandma Edith surmised.

  “Yes.” It wasn’t hard for Mary Margaret to look like this was serious business, because it was. Just not the serious business her grandmother made it out to be.

  “Are you in danger?” The spoon Grandma Edith had been using to stir her coffee clattered to the Formica. Her eyes teared up. “I can’t lose you too.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Mary Margaret gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it was true.

  “No.” Grandma Edith sat back and placed her hands on the tabletop. “I can’t let you do this. Not alone.”

  What?

  “We’re a team, you and I.” Grandma Edith’s head wobbled. “Except on dates. I’ve decided doubles aren’t my thing because…” She leaned forward, gaze drifting to her admirer at the diner counter. “I got a kiss goodnight.” She smacked her lips. “And there’s more where that came from.”

  Grateful for the diversion, Mary Margaret played along. “David has skills?”

  “David has the touch.” She preened, gaze drifting to Mr. Laurel. “Maybe your FBI fella has the touch too?”

  Holy Gone-to-Your-Head.

  “Should you risk your relationship with David with a wandering eye?” Lame. But what the heck was Mary Margaret supposed to say? Grandma Edith never did anything halfway. She always dove all-in on the deep end.

  “Well, David…” Grandma Edith withdrew what she was putting out, glancing toward the Widows Club booth.

  “Hey, you didn’t tell me. Did the girls stay in place?” Mary Margaret blurted, gesturing in the general direction of her grandmother’s secret weapons.

  Grandma Edith grinned. “They don’t call it the 18 Hour Bra for nothing, honey.” She framed her breasts and gave them a supportive squeeze. And then she frowned. “I should take you shopping. You needed more support beneath your flapper costume last night.”

  And just like that, they were back in the trouble zone.

  “David didn’t notice, did he?” Mary Margaret tried to steer the ship back to safer waters.

  “He might have. He’s very detail oriented. One of the other gals wore those harem pants. I didn’t notice they were slit up the sides until he pointed them out.”

  Mary Margaret had a sudden dislike of David.

  “And that one girl…Crystal? He liked her ripped costume.” Grandma Edith sipped her coffee. “I’d like a dress with flapper fringe, if only to see him smile when the tassles shake. Maybe I’ll get a pole at the house so we can practice.”

  “No.” Mary Margaret sucked in a breath.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Kevin came to stand near Mary Margaret. With the familiarity of more than friendship, his hand slid back and forth across her shoulders before landing in his rear jeans pocket. The gossip grapevine was going to love that.

  “Kevin…” Grandma Edith’s brow furrowed. “You don’t know how to dance, do you?”

  A pit of apprehension formed in Mary Margaret’s stomach, waiting for the other stiletto to drop. “Of course he does. Remember, he’s my partner when I teach dance the hour before the Widows Club Christmas Ball.” She would have liked to have forgotten that fact.

  She could see the wheels doing a slow turn in Grandma Edith’s head the moment she’d said teach dance.

  Kevin grinned, oblivious to the undercurrents. “We should get together and practice.”

  “Oh, no. If I can’t have a pole, you can’t have lessons,” Edith said.

  “Pole?” Kevin’s brow furrowed.

  “Time out. Time out.” Mary Margaret made a T with her hands. “There’s some confusion here. We”—she gestured between Kevin and herself—“are teaching ballroom dancing at the request of the Widows Club.” She fixed her grandmother with a firm stare. “If you’ve forgotten this, maybe you should head on over to the board meeting in the back.”

  Edith made a choking noise and glanced toward her cronies. “I was here to support you and now…” She turned back around. Smiled. Shook her finger at Mary Margaret. “I get what you’re doing. You’re trying to protect me.”

  Mary Margaret stared up at Kevin and sent him a telepathic message: Save me.

  Kevin didn’t disappoint. “If you’re worried about your skill on the dance floor,” he said to Edith, “you have nothing to worry about. Patti told me David has two left feet, and I know that Maggie is a patient teacher, whether it’s kindergartners or regular folks like you and me.”

  “He’s clueless.” Grandma Edith’s brows lowered. “Handsome but clueless.”

  Kevin smiled at Mary Margaret as if he hadn’t heard. “Tad and I were wondering if you wanted to go to the movies this afternoon.”

  “She’s very busy,” Grandma Edith said before Mary Margaret could say anything. “We’re very busy.” She nodded knowingly toward Laurel and Hardy at the counter.

  “I’d love to go.” Mary Margaret ignored the warning bells in her head because, right now, Kevin seemed to be the lesser of her problems. Right now, Grandma Edith needed a cool-down period.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up around twelve-thirty.”

  Mary Margaret plastered a smile on her face and shooed him off with one hand.

  She waited until Kevin had returned to his family. And then she waited until Pearl delivered their b
reakfast. And then Mary Margaret reached across the table to clasp her grandmother’s hands, gave them a squeeze, and said, “Undercover means you can’t tell anyone. Undercover means no one will understand references like ‘pole.’ Undercover means in order to keep me safe, you have to zip your lips.”

  Edith tugged her hands free. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m the weakest link.” She stared at her plain pancakes. “Why do they list the special as special? There’s nothing special about this plate.”

  Mary Margaret sighed and wondered what dollar figure she needed to reach before Laurel and Hardy could leave town.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It’s done.” Grim as death, Edith sat with the Widows Club board, resigned to her fate. This was it; they were going to kick her off the board.

  “Yes.” Bitsy nodded. “We’re canceling the Christmas Ball. Fifteen tickets sold.”

  “That’s not what…” Edith grimaced. “I’m sorry, Bitsy.”

  “That’s not what you wanted to announce?” Clarice looked up from her mile-high whip, a white goatee sliding down her chin.

  “Mary Margaret has a date with Kevin.” Edith hated to admit it but her failure was like a Band-Aid. It had to be ripped off. “They’re going to the movies and taking Tad.”

  “Oh, Edith.” Mims didn’t look happy. “Even Iggy would be better than Kevin at this point.”

  “Or Tom Bodine.” Bitsy set down her tea. “He’s grumpy but stable.”

  “Or Jason Petrie.” Clarice wiped her face clean and then stared at her whip as if determining whether she should take another go. “I think he learned his lesson about how to treat women when Darcy dumped him. Although, did you hear he’s writing a dating advice column? One that includes advice for the…boudoir?”

  Her statement was met with open-mouthed bewilderment. Edith was simultaneously shocked and intrigued.

  “Anyway.” Clarice cleared her throat. “I take back my pick of Jason and replace him with David Jessup.”

  Mims’s and Edith’s mouths continued to hang open. Bitsy chuckled.

  “Why would you put David’s name in the mix?” Mims recovered first, fluffing her spiky hair.