Make Me a Match

by Diana Holquist

  He laughed, then pulled her into a bear hug. “I’m so happy that we both found it, Cel. Before it was too late.” He thumped her back. He let her go and held out his hand. “Friends?”

  His eyes sparkled; his face glowed. Whatever he had found, it made him a better person. Maybe that’s what love was, finding the person who brings out the best in you and eliminates the worst. She and Jack together had amplified each other’s weaknesses for money, for power, for status. “Friends,” she said.

  She felt content. Happy even. After all, nothing between her and Jack had changed; friends were all they had ever been.

  Chapter 32

  The doorbell rang.

  Cecelia bolted up in bed. She grabbed the clock. It was six o’clock in the evening. She had to be back at the hospital at seven. She and Finn had just fallen into bed for a quick, well, a quick screw. Ever since the appetizer tasting and meeting Jack, she and Finn couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She felt like it would end any minute, and he’d run off to find his real True Love.

  In fact, when she had gotten a little free time, she had Googled Cindy Reidel. Sure enough, there was one in Finn’s hometown of Lakeford. She didn’t find much about her—only that she was having an art show at the local community center. But finding her was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. There was a woman waiting for him, although she didn’t know it yet. She couldn’t stand in the way of him finding his One True Love forever.

  But for now, she couldn’t get enough of him. “We must have fallen asleep.” Finn was stretched out next to her. He looked as sated as she felt.

  “I’ll get it,” Finn said, tumbling out of bed and pulling on his jeans. “It’s Maya and Amy back from the aquarium.”

  Cecelia rolled into the warm spot he left behind. Heaven. It had been ten days since she’d seen Jack, told him that she didn’t mind him and Sharon (the pink woman) using their date, their church, their caterer. She had joked that Sharon would still have to get her own dress. That was when Jack invited her to the wedding.

  She wasn’t quite there yet.

  But then, where was she?

  She was having fun with Finn and right now that was enough.

  Amy would never ring the doorbell. She has a key.

  She jumped out of bed, yanked on her clothes, and hurried down the hall, smoothing her hair.

  She stopped. Two women and a man stood at the door, gaping at Finn. Actually, the man stared at her. The women seemed transfixed by Finn’s bare chest.

  “Hello?” Cecelia pulled her T-shirt down. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Cecelia Burns?” one of the women asked Finn’s left pectoral. She was wearing a tweed suit.

  “Yes.” Cecelia’s hand flew to her lips. Were they still swollen from Finn’s passionate kisses? Not that the women would notice. They were still working their way across Finn’s bare torso.

  Get your greedy eyes off that nipple, she wanted to tell them.

  “Doctor Cecelia Burns?” the man asked, as if what he really meant was, harlot and fornicator Cecelia Burns?

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “So you must be—” The second woman glanced at the paper in the man’s hand. “Jack Peterson, Esquire?” The woman licked her lips.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake.

  “No,” Finn answered. “Finn Concord, shortstop, Trudy’s Tipplers B-league.” Finn held out his hand.

  Both women tried to take it at once.

  Finn smiled.

  Cecelia shot him a dirty look.

  “We’re the co-op board,” the man said. “Here on business.”

  The women with him cleared their throats and looked at the floor. “I’m Justin Smeeds. This is Julie Bordens. And this is my wife, Cindy Wilson.” He seemed to be trying to remind her.

  “Cindy—what was that last name?” Finn asked. “Reidel?”

  “Wilson,” Cecelia growled.

  “Right. Wilson. Very nice to meet you,” Finn said.

  Cecelia had an incredible urge to bite his shoulder.

  “We need some information before the board meeting on Wednesday.” Mr. Smeeds looked past Cecelia and into the apartment. Cecelia maneuvered to block his view.

  “We’ve written you several letters. There hasn’t been a response. We just have to see that everything’s in order. Up to standards.”

  “Oh, yeah! Is that the chow?” Amy approached from the elevator, coming up behind the crowd in the hallway. She held a huge shark balloon on a stick. “Wow, a whole delivery crew. Do we have to tip all of them?”

  “This is my little sister, Amy. Amy, this is the Towne Towers co-op board. Where’s Maya?”

  “Oh. Hello.” Amy smiled broadly. “She’s chatting with the doorman. I think he owes her some money on last week’s baseball pool.”

  The co-op board’s eyes went wide.

  “Just a little friendly pool, nothing serious.”

  “Do all three of you live here?” the co-op man asked.

  “Yes—” Amy began.

  “Of course not!” Cecelia cut her off, just as Maya appeared.

  Her balloon was a huge, floating jellyfish complete with silvery tentacles. Cecelia wondered how Amy could possibly have stolen such enormous booty.

  “Chow?” Maya asked. “Oh, hell, do we have to tip them all?”

  Cecelia blinked at the child. She was mini-Amy. Repeating her words exactly, a tiny con woman in training.

  “I have here that your marital status is engaged, to Jack Peterson,” the man said, eyeing Maya.

  “Scratch that,” Amy said merrily. She pushed past the man into the apartment, pulling Maya with her

  “Ames! Really!” Cecelia scowled at her.

  The man scratched out Jack’s name. Cecelia blanched.

  “There aren’t any animals here?” the tweed woman asked.

  “Depends what you mean by animal.” Amy winked at Finn.

  Maya quickly put her hands behind her back. Cecelia caught a glimpse of a tiny goldfish sloshing in a plastic bag.

  “Perhaps we should come back at a more appropriate time.” The man backed away. “Here, I’ll leave these forms with you. Doctor.” He handed Cecelia a packet. “The meeting is Wednesday at six. We’ll need all your financials before then. Of course, we anticipate the financials of you and your fiancé—er, of whomever—will meet the building requirements.”

  “It’ll just be my financials,” Cecelia said, closing the door. “But don’t worry, they’ll be fine. No problem.” She wondered if they’d be fine. She’d have to check the building requirements. She looked to the enormous stack of mail piled on her table. She was getting irresponsible, lax. She had to get her life back on track.

  “Very good then,” the man said, just before Cecelia clicked the door shut on the outside world.

  She thought she heard the women sigh.

  Cecelia had never been to Elliot’s house. It was out in the suburbs, embedded in a maze of almost identical houses. She stopped her BMW in front of a brick colonial with white columns and got out. Number 1334. This must be it.

  Hopefully, this would be easy. Since she didn’t have a pay stub that showed her income anywhere close to what the co-op board required, her plan was to get Elliot to sign a letter that indicated how quickly her income was projected to grow just as soon as she became a more established doctor. The numbers were a bit exaggerated—

  Elliot’s wife, Julia, opened the door with a warm smile. “Hi, Cecelia. I’m so sorry you had to come all the way out here. Did Jack drive you?” She tried to peer around Cecelia, who quickly shut the door.

  “It’s no problem. It’s my fault, anyway,” Cecelia said, stepping into the immaculate foyer. “I should have gotten Elliot to sign these papers last week. They’re for the co-op board.”

  “Oh, I know, dear. Elliot told me all about it. He’s upstairs in his study. Why don’t you run on up and I’ll bring you some tea.”

  “Oh, no. That’s okay. No tea. I’ll just be a
minute.”

  Julia shrugged. “Okay. But you just call down if you change your mind.” She pointed Cecelia up the stairs. “Second door on the right.”

  Cecelia walked quickly through the house. The place was a museum. She knocked gently on the door. “Elliot?”

  “Cecelia. What a pleasure! Come in.” Elliot was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk tapping away on a laptop. “I’ll just be one second.”

  Cecelia walked around the room. Medical books and journals lined the walls from floor to ceiling.

  He clicked his laptop shut and came around the desk. “You can borrow anything you like.” He stood by her. “Although I’m sure you’ve already read most of them.”

  She reached into her purse. “I’m so sorry to bug you at home like this. I drew up these financial papers for my co-op board, like you suggested. I need you to sign them.”

  He ignored the papers. “Is that all you need?”

  “Excuse me?” She felt a chill in the room that hadn’t been there before.

  “I’m hearing rumors, Cecelia. Rumors that you’re seeing someone. A—” He paused as if the words were too unbelievable to utter. “A construction worker?”

  Bile rose in her stomach. All she needed was his signature, then she could get out of there and keep her co-op and forget that this ever happened. “The papers, Elliot?”

  He looked at the papers in her hands and smiled. “It’s very important that the doctors in our practice see eye-to-eye.”

  “Elliot—just say it straight out. Are you saying that if I’m dating a construction worker, then you don’t want me in your practice?”

  “Dr. Burns, don’t deny that you’ve changed. Look at you, in my house in the middle of the night? That’s not the Dr. Burns that we took on. Asking me to lie about some papers? You’ve been dressing more and more provocatively at work. Your hair is always down. Your way of moving—”

  “I have changed,” she cut him off. Her blood was boiling. “I’ve changed a great deal.” She looked around Elliot’s immaculate, huge house. If she said much more, she’d never have a piece of all this. Was she really ready to throw it all away?

  He put his hand on her shoulder and she bristled under its weight. “I don’t know why you’re so hostile, Cecelia. Relax. I think you’re slipping. It happens to the best of us. You need to assure me that you’ll come back over to where you were. Be the upstanding doctor we hired.”

  Cecelia looked at the papers in her hands. No signature, no co-op.

  The papers aren’t an “exaggeration.” They are a lie. I am done lying.

  The silent house echoed nothingness. She took a deep breath, then ripped the papers in two. She held out her hand to Elliot. “Thank you, Elliot. Thank you so much for making everything absolutely clear.”

  He shook her hand weakly, obviously confused.

  But before he could ask her any questions, she was down the stairs, out the door, and on her way back to where she belonged.

  Cecelia climbed into the warm bed next to Finn.

  “Mmmm.” He gathered her in. “How’d it go?” he mumbled, half asleep.

  “Great,” she said. She pressed her body into his.

  “Mmmmm. You’re so cold,” he said.

  “That’s your department,” she reminded him. She kissed him as she rolled on top of him.

  “No wonder you’re cold, you’re naked, Doctor.”

  “Hmmm. Starting to wake up, are we?” she asked.

  “Parts of me,” he said, pulling her into him. He slid his hands down her back. “Wow, I’ll have to start sending you off to other men’s houses in the middle of the night more often.” He squeezed her thigh. “Did you get the papers signed?”

  “No.”

  Finn opened his eyes for the first time. He peered at her in the dim light. “No?”

  “I think I need a new job,” she said into his neck. “And a new place to live.”

  “What happened?” He tried to sit up, but she remained soundly on his chest.

  “Oh, Elliot just made clear what I already knew.” She slid her hand down the length of him.

  He groaned.

  She smiled.

  “So what now?” he asked, but his voice was weak.

  “Now we shut up and make love.” She kissed his neck, drinking in his warmth, his skin, his taste.

  “Am I going to have to offer Mrs. Cindy Tweed sexual favors to get you into this building?” he asked, rolling over her to claim the dominant position.

  “You do and I’ll kill you.”

  “That’s why I love you,” he said. “Such a romantic.”

  And then he pushed inside her and they didn’t say another word.

  Chapter 33

  The next day at the hospital, Cecelia watched Dr. Parsia, the director of the East Baltimore Neighborhood Clinic, talk to a group of nurses in the hall. After last night, she knew that she could never work with Elliot again. She had felt powerful marching out of his house, ecstatic driving home. Making love with Finn just added to her sense that her life was falling into place. She flipped her file closed, took a deep breath, and headed toward Dr. Parsia.

  “Dr. Parsia?” Cecelia asked, stepping into her path. Her heart was racing. Dr. Parsia had a reputation. She didn’t deal with the difficult population her clinic served without learning to cut right to the punch.

  “Dr. Burns.” She nodded curtly.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure,” Dr. Parsia said. She didn’t try to mask the curiosity on her face. “Let’s sit down.”

  “I’m thrilled,” Dr. Parsia said when Cecelia was done explaining that she wanted to join her clinic. “But are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

  “We can’t come near your present salary. Your lifestyle is going to have to change significantly.” She eyed Cecelia’s three-hundred-dollar pumps.

  “I know. That’s fine. I’m reassessing my lifestyle anyway.”

  “Well, then let me speak to our board. I’ll get back to you next week and we can get the wheels rolling. I’ve always admired your work, Doctor. I’d be thrilled to have you join us.”

  When Cecelia came home from work, Amy, Finn, and Maya were glum-faced at the door.

  “What?” Cecelia was too tired to deal with another trauma. The stress of talking to Dr. Parsia had taken everything out of her. Now she just wanted to relax.

  Finn handed her a thin envelope. “This was pushed under the door.”

  Her name was scribbled on it. The return address was a logo for the building. “This year’s Miss America is . . .” She tore the envelope open. “Not me.” We regret to inform you that your application to buy unit #3472 has been declined. Unfortunately, we must uphold certain standards . . .

  She crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it in the trash. “Doesn’t matter. Right? Because we can move into Molly’s place soon.”

  “We can move in now. That is, the plumbing is in and the electric is laid. If you want drywall—”

  “Okay then, let’s do it.” Cecelia looked out at the harbor. She’d miss this view. Oh, hell, she’d miss everything about this place. “It’s not like I can afford this place anymore, anyway,” she told them.

  They stared at her apprehensively.

  “I quit the practice today. I’m finishing up there in a few weeks and then, hopefully, I’m going to work for the East Baltimore Neighborhood clinic.”

  Finn took her hand. “That’s—”

  Amy cut in “—incredibly stupid. How are we going to pay for everything.”

  Cecelia smiled her sweetest smile. “Well, how’s that waitressing going?”

  That weekend, Cecelia began moving her things into her old bedroom of her grandmother’s house. Amy and Finn were stripping ancient wallpaper from the living room while Cecelia took a breather on the couch.

  “Remind me why you’re not helping us again?” Amy grunted.

  “Because I’m paying.” Cecelia
collapsed on the couch. A cloud of dust rose up around her. “And this is my one day off this week and I have rounds at six-thirty in the morning tomorrow—”

  Maya raced into the room. She screeched to a halt, looked from face to face to be sure she had everyone’s attention, and then she announced, “There’s a man here.”

  Cecelia stood up and wiped her hands on her paint-stained jeans. “Did he say who he was?”

  “Yeah. But it’s really weird. He said that he’s Finn Concord. But he’s not. How could he be Finn Concord if you are, Daddy?”

  Everyone stumbled into the hallway to look at the man in the doorway. He was tall and blond, wearing an impeccable, perfectly fitting dark blue suit. He peered into the dim hallway doubtfully. “Cecelia Burns?” He looked from Amy to Cecelia, happily, as if either woman would be equally satisfactory. His blue eyes twinkled out of his too tanned face. “I stopped by the address I had, but the doorman sent me here.”

  Cecelia emerged from the silent group. She put out a hand. “I’m Cecelia Burns.”

  He shook her hand carefully. “May I come in? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” And with that, he carefully reached into his suit pocket and took out the letter that Cecelia had sent him ages ago—or was it just a few weeks?—telling him to please go see a doctor, he might be dying.

  The adults shuffled into the living room, sending Maya upstairs to watch TV. Cecelia sat on the couch. California Finn sat down across from her on a chair and put her letter on the table between them.

  “Exhibit A,” he said good-naturedly. His fingernails were buffed to a lustrous shine. He leaned forward, smiling pleasantly as he waited for her to make her case.

  Finn paced behind the couch, deep in thought.

  Amy stood by the fireplace and watched.

  “So you’re Finn Concord, the lawyer from Palo Alto?” Cecelia asked.

  “The very one.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Well, it wasn’t easy,” he said. “Took a while. But then I put two and two together.” He pulled another letter out of his jacket pocket. Cecelia snatched it up. She recognized Amy’s scrawling handwriting instantly. She read Amy’s plea for him to contact a Dr. Cecelia Burns in Baltimore, as soon as possible. I can’t tell you why, please just trust this letter and find her. Cecelia tossed the letter back onto the table. Her stomach had formed itself into a tight ball.