Make Me a Match

by Diana Holquist

  “Or, what about the time the serious, high-living doctor discovers that her One True Love is a dying, tattooed construction worker living over a stranger’s bar with a little kid?”

  Cecelia’s hands froze. Living over a bar? With a kid? Her eyes flew to his left ring finger of their own accord. Nothing. Of course nothing, she would have noticed that. He must be divorced.

  Or—of course. His wife died.

  She felt a stab of guilt in her gut. She. He had been talking about his wife. Her diplomas framed on the wall stared down at her, accusing. Nice job, Doc. “Lie back on the table. We need to finish this.”

  He lay back. She manipulated his arms to test their range of motion. Nice arms. Strong. It made her crazy that he thought she was a rich, loony, carefree doctor with nothing better to do than pester strangers in the park. “My sister’s psychic powers ruined my life,” she said. Was she telling him or reminding herself?

  “How so?” He looked past her at a spot on the ceiling.

  “It didn’t take long to figure out that my mom and dad had chosen the wrong mates.”

  He nodded. “Ouch.”

  She had gotten to the part of the exam that was decidedly private. Her hands hovered, then withdrew. “I’m skipping the next part.”

  “If I die of testicular cancer, Doctor, it’ll be your fault.”

  “Tough beans.” She felt down his legs. Manipulated his feet. “Sit up. You’re healthy as an ox. Get dressed.”

  “Aren’t you going to leave the room first?”

  “Not if you want the end of the story. I won’t look.” She turned her back on him. That was better; it made it easier to finish her story and she didn’t want to stop. It felt good to finally tell someone.

  “My mom left my dad and moved to Bombay with my littlest sister to find her One True Love. Then Amy and I got dragged around the country for six years while my dad searched for the perfect Jane Smith. You can’t imagine how many Jane Smiths there are. Most of them are hideous.”

  “So he had to meet all the Jane Smiths to know which one was his True Love? That’s a lousy ghost you guys got.”

  “All Amy gets is the Name. That’s it. Sometimes a middle name—” The blur of him buttoning his jeans in the reflection engrossed her and she lost the thread of her story.

  He hadn’t put his shirt on yet, and she tried not to notice. He wasn’t dying, so he wasn’t The One. Her stomach pulled at her. She felt empty. Surely, she couldn’t be disappointed that this impossibly unsettled man wasn’t her True Love? Her hormones were getting the best of her.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head. The image of his bare stomach, his expansive chest, his muscled arms raised over his head, would be engraved in her memory forever.

  “That’s quite a story,” he said.

  “I know. It’s bizarre. But it’s true. I’ve watched the power of the Names. I’ve seen amazing things. Terrible things. Which is why Amy promised me in the very beginning never to tell me the Name of my One True Love.”

  “She didn’t tell you as a kid?” He shook his brown bangs, and she wished he’d make the same motion again and again. She could watch it forever. God, she was drinking this man in like a desert wanderer at an oasis. Could she be that desperate for—for what? She rubbed her hands together to stop them from tingling.

  “No, people get their Names later. It’s odd. But the Names seem to have a set of rules all their own.”

  Finn tied his work boots. “But you don’t care about the Names?”

  “There are other things in life that matter more than True Love,” Cecelia insisted.

  “Right. Like this.” He motioned at the room around him. “A medical practice that only helps people who can pay the big bucks. Or that mega-diamond on your finger?” He shook his head. “You’re even more whacked than I suspected, Doctor. Listen, not that you give a damn, but am I going to live?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. You’re healthy,” she managed to get out.

  “Excellent.” He grabbed his cooler and headed for the door. “So since I’m not dying, I’m not your True Love.”

  “Right.” Unless you get hit by a bus on your way home.

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  She wasn’t sure if he meant that it was a relief that he wasn’t her True Love, or that he wasn’t dying. She didn’t want to know. “Wait,” she called after him. “We had a deal. Your middle name?”

  He looked back at her. “You know what, Dr. Cecelia Burns? You don’t deserve to know my middle name. Because, really, what difference does it make? A woman with your hang-ups would never condescend to be with a guy like me. And I would never condescend to be with a woman who thinks that love—and people—don’t matter.”

  Chapter 11

  The sun outside beat down so fiercely, Finn was blinded by the darkness inside Trudy’s Bar. He stood in the doorway as shadows became shapes that became the outline of Trudy and Maya perched on bar stools, playing cards. When he got closer, he saw Trudy was teaching Maya Texas Hold ’em. They were playing for real money. Looked like Maya was winning.

  When she saw him, she spun around happily on her stool. “So? Are you two in love?”

  Finn sat on the stool next to his daughter. He spun around too, trying to gather his thoughts. Cecelia’s crazy story about the Names, the way he felt when she touched him, the prophecy of his imminent death—his head was swimming. All he wanted was to come to Baltimore to make his daughter and her adopted, chain-smoking granny happy.

  Trudy didn’t look up. She scowled at her cards.

  “The woman is insane,” he said finally.

  Maya jumped down, expertly selected a pint glass, and pulled a draft Bud into it like a pro. She snapped a napkin onto the bar, winked, and slammed the beer onto it. “How was that, Granny? Did I do it good?”

  “Perfect. I’m going to make something of you yet.”

  “How do you like the head on that pint, Daddy?”

  “It’s perfect, but I’m not so sure I like it,” he said, shooting a scowl at Trudy. “Couldn’t you get shut down for that?”

  “I know all the cops,” she said with a shrug.

  Yeah, I wonder why? He sipped the cold beer. Damn, it was a perfect pour.

  “Tell us more about the doctor lady,” Maya demanded, like a mini-bartender fishing for a good tip, her elbows on the bar, her face in her hands.

  “She says that I’m her True Love as destined by Fate.”

  Trudy looked up. “She said that and you didn’t get laid?”

  “What’s ‘get laid’?” Maya asked.

  “It’s a card game grown-ups play,” Finn said, glaring at Trudy.

  “Which you obviously suck at,” Trudy said. She gathered the cards and began to shuffle them.

  Finn watched her expert fingers work the cards. Her hands flew like lightning. A chill ran through him. Every word he had seen on that purple hydrangea stationery was written in a gnarled hand. With a purple pen. I do hope that when you’re finished with third grade . . . That wasn’t the way Trudy talked. And this lady probably never saw a hydrangea in her life. “Maybe I was a little hard on the doctor. I’ll write her a letter. Trudy, can I borrow your purple fountain pen?”

  “I don’t have a purple fountain pen. What would I do with a purple—?” She stopped shuffling and squinted at him. Then she started shuffling again. “Oh, that pen. I threw it out. Ran out of ink.” She held his gaze, and Finn shuddered. He recognized that look, but from where?

  Then he remembered. The shark at the aquarium. Trudy was a shark. He was in a shark tank. Right now.

  Maya had gone back to her stool and was spinning again. “Granny Trudy? When are we gonna make those crab cakes you promised?” she asked.

  Trudy gave the little girl’s stool a spirited twirl. “Soon, honey. How ’bout tonight? We’ll put them on the appetizer menu.”

  Maya spun giddily, gripping the stool. “Hooray!” she shouted.

  Finn shook off his foreboding. He was
going crazy, that was all. It made sense, since everyone he met in this weird, dark town was slightly off-center. He couldn’t let his creepy premonitions ruin it for Maya. He just had to stay away from that doctor. Psychics, my foot. She was making him believe in things that weren’t there.

  Amy sat in the corner of the bar, her back to Finn and Maya, her Ravens cap pulled down low.

  This guy was smart. Well, that was good. Cecelia wouldn’t go for a dumb guy, no matter how much he looked like a young Harrison Ford. But maybe he was too smart. And this just had to work. It was her last chance.

  She sipped her whiskey as she watched Finn’s reflection in the Orioles mirror behind the bar. She wondered, again, for the millionth time why she needed Cecelia. Well, the damn spirits weren’t giving her any clues about that, that was for sure. Amy had thought when she left Cecelia ten years ago that she’d go out on her own. Hell, Cecelia didn’t need her anymore, so she certainly didn’t need Cecelia.

  But then, it turned out, she did. The Names Amy heard so clearly all her life started to fade the instant they had parted. Every year, the voice grew a little fainter. Now, it was almost gone. Sometimes she could get a whisper of a Name, a few syllables; sometimes, nothing.

  Cecelia was the key. Hell, the first time they were together in ten years, at that overstuffed engagement party, the Name for that horrible Lance and the little nurse Julie came clear as day. Her powers were back. For an instant. Now, with Cecelia mad at her, they were fading out again. It all revolved around Cecelia. But why?

  She finished her whiskey and studied the bottom of the glass as if it might reveal an answer. Why didn’t matter, all that mattered was what to do about it.

  “On the house,” Trudy said, sloshing a fresh whiskey on the table. She leaned in close to Amy, not looking at her, while she washed the table with a gray rag. “Your hot shot sister’s blowing it big time with handsome over there.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. What happened?”

  “Guess she got all high-and-mighty on him. Plus, he thinks she’s bonkers.” She scrubbed at a permanent spot on the table. “Seems she believes in spirits.”

  “We’ve got to get them back together.” Amy sipped the new whiskey. Getting Finn and Cecelia together was mandatory. If Cecelia never experienced True Love, she’d never see that it was all that mattered. And if she didn’t see that love was all that mattered, she’d never join Amy in the psychic business again. And if she didn’t join Amy, then Amy couldn’t hear the voices—

  “Maybe he’s the wrong Finn.”

  Amy had the strange sensation she was in a confessional, the way Trudy wouldn’t look at her. “Hell, I don’t know. That’s the thing. I can’t be sure until I can get up close and concentrate on him. Which would definitely be too risky now.” Amy looked over at Finn. He and Maya had gone to the back of the bar and were engrossed in a spirited pinball game, each manning one flipper.

  “If he was the right one, wouldn’t Cecelia have known?” Trudy picked up the empty whiskey and put it on her small, round tray.

  “Cecelia? Hell, she wouldn’t know if she had an orgasm without some kind of blinking monitor. That’s the trouble. She’s a block of wood.”

  “So, now what? I need him around for one more ball game—we gotta nail those firefighters. Not that they’re not my heroes. God bless them. Just I wanna rip their hearts out on the ball field and Finny’s got a hell of a bat—”

  “Can you think of anything besides baseball?”

  Trudy shrugged. She looked up at her trophies as if they were her children. Then she looked at Maya with just as much affection. “Well, what about the kid? Maya will do anything for her granny—and her daddy. That girl wants a mom so bad, she can’t stop talking about it. I’ve been sitting with her for days hearing about how awesome Cecelia would be for a mom and how her daddy was off in dreamland all day thinking about her. Little girl even tried to stop him from putting that god-awful cheese in the picnic basket. Lord and heaven that cheese reeked!”

  Amy traced a scratch in the ancient table. Stinky cheese—how did he know Cecelia loved that stuff? Was he the one? She had to think. “Okay, the kid came up with the rent-a-granny idea, maybe she can figure out what to do about this little setback. You talk to her.”

  Maya glanced over at them, as if she heard her name from clear across the bar. After a beat, she recognized Amy and waved happily.

  Amy scowled at her.

  Maya put her free hand over her mouth in giggling horror and glanced at Finn. He was absorbed in the pinball game, shouting at her, “Flip, flip!”

  “I can’t pay you for this,” Amy said, polishing off the second whiskey.

  “Pay me when we get Cecelia to join you in your little scams again. I remember when you two were girls—”

  “I already told you, we’re not going to scam people this time. We’re going to go legit.”

  “In that case, I want the money now. Four dollars and fifty cents. Plus tip.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “We’re gonna make money. With Cecelia’s class act, we can get a whole new kind of client. The big guys, who will pay for real info. So no more cons. I’ve got it all worked out.”

  “Except for the part where Cecelia quits her doctor’s gig and joins you as a psychic’s assistant.” Trudy began to move around the bar, picking up empties and straightening napkins.

  Amy scowled. When Trudy put it that way, it did seem unlikely. But True Love changed everything. Amy was sure of it. It had the power to change Cecelia. It had the power to change the world. This was amazing stuff they were dealing with.

  True Love.

  If she could get Cecelia in here so that she could hear that damn voice and find out who Trudy’s One True Love is, then she’d stop being such a skeptic. That lady could use a little love. Get her off her baseball obsession.

  But she couldn’t tell Trudy her One True Love. Not without Cecelia. Hell, why couldn’t she do this without Cecelia? It was enough to drive a person to drink. She eyed her empty glass greedily, but Trudy was across the bar now, talking it up with some regulars.

  Suddenly she felt something brush her leg. She pulled back in terror (Rats! Mice!), then realized the something was Maya. Under her table. Grinning.

  “Psst. Down here.” Maya giggled.

  “You can’t talk to me here!” Amy hissed. She looked at Finn, who was pounding away at the pinball game.

  “Daddy didn’t like Cecelia.”

  Amy let her head fall back. “That’s talking,” she pointed out.

  The girl shrugged.

  “I know about what happened. Trudy told me. We have to fix it.”

  “You told me your sister was beautiful and nice and rich.”

  “She is.”

  “Just not the nice part.”

  “She’s nice. Underneath. Didn’t you ever know anyone like that?” Amy rolled the empty whiskey glass around in her fingers, her eyes on Finn. If he found Maya under her table, the gig would be up. Stupid kid.

  But she needed the stupid kid to come up with a plan.

  Maya was silent. Amy glanced under the table to see the girl playing with her neon green shoelaces. She looked so tiny down there. Amy closed her eyes. Her life was hanging in the balance, and it all depended on a child.

  “Shirley Jinx,” Maya said.

  “Who? What? Oh, hell—your dad’s moving away from the game. He’s looking around.”

  “Shirley Jinx, Mrs. Nelson’s second grade. She was like Cecelia. Okay. I know what to do. I can help her.”

  Finn turned toward the back of the bar.

  “Go,” Amy urged. “Now!”

  Maya raced out from under the table and flew around the side of the curved bar just as Finn turned and moved down the bar toward her.

  The kid is good.

  Maybe Maya could pull it off. Maybe Amy’s plan would work. Maybe she’d have money to pay for her drinks again.

  She put her head down as Finn passed.

  It was aw
ful not having money. And she deserved money. Okay, so she had blown almost all the loot she and Cecelia had gotten off the last big scam. But she had spent every last cent of what was left of it searching for men named Finn Concord. She finally found this one with the help of a team of private detectives and endless psychic consultations. For four months she had hung out in his boring, conservative town, watching him, trying to figure him out, spending all her cash.

  Until that day in the diner, when she had finally sat next to Maya and her chocolate milk shake. The girl opened right up, let her story pour out between huge, sucking slurps of milk shake inhaled through a straw with all her might, as if she had to replace everything she let out. “My dad needs a new wife and I need a new mom,” she had said. Amy would never forget those words. It was like the moment when the skies opened and the sun came streaming through the gap in the clouds, except it was Florida, and the damn sun never stopped. A new mom. Cecelia. It was gorgeous.

  And what a plan that kid came up with! A rent-a-granny in Baltimore. And Amy knew exactly who could play the granny. One call to Trudy, Amy’s old buddy, and everything was set. Too bad “granny” had flubbed the pen thing. But her recovery was decent, for someone who’d been out of the con game for two decades.

  And too bad Cecelia had flubbed the seduction.

  Amy watched Finn find Maya. She bounced out from behind the bar as if she’d been playing hide-and-seek all along. He shook his very cute head at her and they went back to the pinball game, Maya skipping the whole way.

  How could Cecelia have let that man get away? Look at the shoulders on that guy. He just had to be the right Finn, especially since the Finn Franklin Concord she had found in California wouldn’t even return her calls.

  Amy willed Trudy to come back with more whiskey.

  Trudy didn’t.

  Okay, no time for sitting around, anyway. If Maya could work her end of the deal, then Amy still had some work to do on her end.

  She had to get Cecelia to realize that Jack wasn’t The One.

  Or maybe she could help Jack to realize Cecelia wasn’t his type.

  Oh, the things she did for True Love.