The Matchmaker's Happy Ending: Boardroom Bride and Groom

by Shirley Jump

  A long, low creak announced the opening of the front door. Marnie wheeled around, raising her fist with the keys in it. Not much of a defense, but better than nothing. She lowered her fist when she saw a familiar figure enter the building. “Jack. You scared the heck out of me.”

  “Sorry.” He stepped into the foyer, and his features shifted from shadows to light. In the white fluorescents, his eyes seemed even bluer, his hair darker, his jaw line sharper. Her heart started beating double-time. “I wanted to get here before you did, but I was running behind.”

  She took a step closer to him, letting the smile inside her bubble to the surface. “That’s okay. You didn’t have to be here. I could have picked this up myself.”

  He took a step closer, reached up a hand, and cupped her jaw, his gaze soft, tender. “Oh, Marnie, you are so determined to fly solo.”

  “It’s safer that way,” she whispered.

  “But is it better?”

  She shook her head, and tears rushed to her eyes. “No, it’s not.”

  “Then stop doing it,” he said. He smiled, then closed the distance between them and kissed her. This kiss was tender, gentle. His hands held her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair. She sighed into the kiss and leaned into Jack.

  And it all felt so, so right. So perfect. Falling wasn’t so bad, she realized. Not so bad at all.

  Finally, Jack drew back, but didn’t let her go, not right away. The connection between them tightened, as the threads they had been building began to knit into something real and lasting.

  It was as if in that kiss, that moment of surrender, something fundamental had shifted between them. Marnie could feel it charging the air, the space between them. The grin playing on Jack’s lips said he felt it, too. From here on out, nothing would be the same. And for the first time in her life, Marnie was ready to get on that roller coaster, but still, fear kept her from saying a word.

  “Before we get too distracted, let me show you what I found. I put it on your father’s desk.” Jack reached past her, which whispered his cologne past her senses, and opened the door to Tom’s office, allowing Marnie to enter first.

  She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, then went into the office. The second her feet touched the carpet, she jetted back in time. She hadn’t been inside her father’s office for years. At least four, maybe more. Once she’d gone off to college, then come home to open her own business, free time had become a rare commodity and her days of playing receptionist with her sisters had ended.

  Nothing had changed with the passage of time. The worn black leather chair her father had rescued from a salvage sale still sat behind the simple dark green metal desk he’d painted himself. The bookshelf held a haphazard collection of business books—gifts, mostly—that he’d kept meaning to read and never had. A stack of print samples lay against one wall, and a dish of Tootsie Rolls sat on the corner of the desk, beside a hideous green pottery pen holder that Kat had made for Dad in the third grade. Marnie’s throat swelled. “It’s been three years and it still seems like I could walk in here and find him at his desk.”

  Jack put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, allowed his stronger, broader shoulders to hold her up. “I’m sorry you lost him,” he said. “He was a really nice guy.”

  “Yeah, he was.” She stepped away from Jack’s touch, and crossed to a box on the credenza behind the desk. Her name had been written across the top, in the same precise script as the note. Jack’s handwriting. She danced a finger across the six letters of her name.

  “I came across that when I was cleaning out the office,” Jack said. “I thought you’d want to have it. For you and your sisters.”

  She pried open the cardboard. Instant recognition hit her, along with a teary wave of memories. She reached inside and pulled out the wooden photo frame, still filled with a picture of Dad and his girls, the three of them crowding the space in front of him. Ma had taken the picture, out in front of the building, years and years ago. Kat was about ten, Marnie almost nine and Erica just seven, the three of them wearing goofy smiles and matching pigtails. It wasn’t the picture that caught her heart, though, it was the frame.

  When her mother had brought home the print from the photo developer, Dad had showed it to Marnie and told her a special picture like this needed a special frame. He’d asked her to help him make one, and she’d leapt at the chance. Her father, who worked too many hours and came home to three girls all anxious for him to hear about school or help with homework or go outside to ride bikes, rarely had time to spend with just one daughter.

  “My father and I made this together,” she said, the memory slipping from her lips in a soft whisper. “He told the other girls that this was going to be a Dad and Daisy-doo project. Kat and Erica pouted, but Dad stuck to his guns. We went out to the garage, and he and I did everything, from cutting the wood to nailing the pieces together. He taught me how to miter the corners and sand the wood filler until it was smooth. When it was done—” she flipped over the frame and ran her fingers over the letters etched there “—he showed me how to use the woodburner to put our names on it.”

  And there, as deep and clear as the day she’d done it, were the words Dad and His Daisy-Doo’s Great Project.

  A great project, indeed. The best one, and one of the few things that had been just between her and her dad. Her throat clogged. Her vision blurred. Oh, Dad.

  “I didn’t even know he saved it.” But of course he would have. Tom had been a sentimental man, who had held on to nearly every school paper his daughters brought home, framed the weekly drawings, and made a big deal out of every life event. Tears welled in her eyes, clung to her lashes. She clutched the frame to her chest. Solid, warm, it held so many memories. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, then shifted his weight. His stance changed from commiseration to serious, and she knew this was something she might not want to hear. “I’ve got some things to tell you, Marnie, about the way I handled your father’s business.”

  “It’s okay. It’s in the past. He’s gone now.”

  “I know, but...this needs to be said. For both of us.” Jack heaved a sigh. His gaze skipped around the room, coming to rest on the visitor’s chair, as if he was sitting in it, across from her father again. “When I first met with your father, I came to him under false pretences. I promised him we’d help him. It was the same line we gave all the businesses we worked with. Sometimes, yes, we did help them, but sometimes we just invested and walked away, knowing they’d fail.”

  “How was that a smart strategy?”

  Jack took a seat on the corner of the desk. “There’s a lot that goes into a buying decision, you know? Pluses and minuses, current earnings versus future. Your father might not have been great at managing a business, but he was amazing at building customer relationships, and that meant his business had incredible future earning potential. Everybody loved the guy, loved working with him, and he had a great rapport with them. But...”

  “But what?”

  He heard the caution in Marnie’s voice, and knew she was bracing herself for something she didn’t want to hear. How he wanted to stop here, to not tell her anything. But the guilt had weighed on him heavy for years, and he couldn’t keep seeing Marnie or ask anything more of her if she didn’t know who he used to be.

  “But there was a bigger company in town who wanted those same customers. They were a current client of my father’s, and they had tried to buy your dad’s business a few times, but he always refused.”

  “I vaguely remember something about that. My dad didn’t talk about work very often.”

  “The competitor came to my father and I, asking us to go in, get Tom’s business from him and then they could have the customers. There’d be a big bonus for Knight, of course, and a very happy client. At the time I thought it was the right t
hing to do. I justified it a hundred different ways. Your father was older, ready for retirement. He wasn’t much of a businessman. He’d been talking about getting out of the company, having more time for himself. So I kept telling myself I was doing the right thing, that in the end, it was the best choice for Tom. But...”

  Across from him, Marnie had gone cold and still. “But what?”

  “But I liked your father. He was a great guy, like I said. The kind of guy you’d have a few beers with or split a pizza with. He was honest and forthright and nice.”

  “And trusting.”

  Jack nodded, hating himself for abusing that trust years ago. “And trusting.”

  “So you...” She clutched the frame between her hands, her knuckles whitening. “You threw him under the bus, for a bottom line?”

  Jack sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I did all those things. I’m the one that talked to your father about Knight investing in his company. I’m the one that promised him we’d be there through thick and thin. And I’m the one who, in the end, deserted him. But, Marnie, there’s more to it than what you know.”

  But she had already turned on her heel and headed out of the office. Before he could follow, she had rushed out. The door slammed in her wake.

  * * *

  Marnie ran. Her mind tried to process what Jack had told her, but it wouldn’t compute. Jack had fed her father a line of lies. Then let him fail on purpose.

  She jerked her keys out of her purse and thumbed the lock. A bright green pickup truck pulled into the lot. The color triggered a memory in Marnie, and when the man in the truck got out, she remembered.

  Doug Hendrickson, the twenty-something son of Floyd Hendrickson, who owned a rival printing company in Boston. Back in the early days of his business, Marnie’s father and Floyd had worked together, helping each other build from the ground up, trading jobs, connections, equipment. Marnie could remember going into her father’s shop on the weekends, and sometimes seeing Doug when he came in with his father.

  Then Floyd and Tom had a falling out, over what Marnie had no idea, and the two had stopped speaking. They’d become fierce competitors then, each trying to grab their corner of the Boston printing market. She hadn’t seen Floyd or his son in years, but she knew Doug’s wide, friendly face in a second.

  Doug cupped a hand over his brow to block the sun. “Is Jack around? I’m supposed to meet him here, but I’m early.”

  “You’re meeting Jack? Jack Knight?” she said, instead of telling him Jack was right inside.

  “Yup. You seen him?” Doug’s gaze narrowed and he took a step closer. “Hey, aren’t you Tom’s daughter? Uh, Kat? Or...”

  Marnie worked a smile to her face. “I’m the middle one. Marnie.”

  “I knew you looked familiar!” He grinned. “What a wicked small world. God, I haven’t seen you in years. You’re not thinking of reopening your dad’s place, are you?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  The door opened behind her and Jack stepped into the sunshine. Damn. She should have left.

  “Hey, Jack!” Doug greeted him with a smile. “Glad to see you. You got my check?”

  Marnie jerked her gaze from one man to the other. “Check? What check?”

  “Gee, Marnie, I would have thought someone would tell you.” Doug put his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels. “I’m opening up my own shop. With some funding from my dad and Knight, of course. I met Jack here a few years ago and he set me up with this place and a nudge to go out on my own. This place was perfect because, well, it has all the equipment still. A little dusty, but it works.” Then Doug seemed to realize what he’d said and his face sobered. “Sorry, Marnie. I know your dad passed and all, and this is probably hard.”

  She bit her lip. “Harder than you know. I’m glad you’re the one giving this place a second life. I’m sorry if I seem short with you, Doug. It’s just been a really tough day.”

  An ache started deep inside her chest and spread through Marnie, fast, painful, until she wanted to collapse, or run, or both. She had trusted Jack, opened her heart to him, begun to fall for him, and what did it get her? Hurt. Why had she taken that risk?

  She spun toward Jack. “You did this?”

  “It’s complicated, Marnie. Your father—”

  The anger and hurt inside her ignited. So many emotions, weeks’ worth, really, bubbled to the surface. She’d kept it all tamped down, and now she wanted to explode, regardless of who was there or why. “You don’t get to tell me anything more about my father. Or me. Or us. Or anything. Just leave me alone, Jack.”

  Before he could respond, she climbed into her car, started the engine and spun out of the parking lot. Tears blurred her vision, but she swiped them away and drove hard and fast, away from a huge mistake she’d almost made.

  Just when she’d begun to think that Jack Knight was a good man, just when she was about to give him a chance, to trust that the man she’d seen at the gym and the coffee shop and the charity was the real Jack, he did something like this.

  Sold the remains of her father’s company to his competitor. Just like the vulture she knew he was all along.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HE SHOULD HAVE let her go. She was hurting, and like a wounded animal, Marnie wanted to escape from the person she saw as responsible for her pain. She had left the office, and run for the car, dodging the rain that had started to fall again. Her tires squealed against the pavement, spitting gravel in her wake, and then she was gone.

  Jack hesitated for a half a second, shouted a meet you later at Doug, then he hopped in his car and wove through the traffic, darting left, right, until he saw her gray sedan ahead. He pulled in behind her, following as she navigated the city, driving against the tide of outbound traffic.

  She passed her office, took a left instead of the right that would have brought her to her mother’s house, and passed by the exit for her condo. She turned down Charles Street, then entered the Boston Common Parking Garage. Jack found a space a half level above her, then hopped out in time to see Marnie heading up the stairs and out one of the parking kiosks located on the Common. She crossed Charles, then entered the Public Garden. He lingered behind, warring with letting her go and running after her. Hadn’t he hurt her enough? Done enough damage?

  She headed down the wide sidewalk that led to the pond and the swan boat rides. For a moment, he thought maybe that was her destination—a quiet ride on the tranquil pond while swans and ducks bobbed nearby, begging for crumbs. But her steps slowed, then stopped. She took a seat on a bench. When he saw the hunch in her shoulders, the decision was made for him. He couldn’t let her hurt for one more second. Because—

  Because he was falling in love with Marnie Franklin. Hell, he’d been falling for her ever since they’d met. It had been those shoes, those impractical, uncomfortable shoes that she’d kicked onto the pavement. A barefoot Cinderella who had enticed him with her fiery hair and her feisty attitude.

  She might never forgive him, and might hate him for the rest of her life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to rectify the mess he had made years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find some peace finally. He might not be able to fix this enough to allow him and Marnie to be together, but maybe he could make it better for her.

  He sat down on the space beside her on the bench. Her eyes widened with surprise. “Let me guess,” he said, gesturing to the statue across from them, “favorite book as a child?”

  Instead of answering, she wheeled on him. “Why are you here, Jack?”

  “Because I’m trying to explain to you what happened.”

  “You can’t. It’s too late.” Her eyes misted and she turned away, facing the bronze statues across the walkway. A mother duck, followed by several baby ducks, waddled from the nest to the pond. The stat
ues were a Boston Public Garden landmark, based on the famous Robert McCloskey book about a family of ducks who had battled city traffic and rushing bicycles to settle in this very park.

  “That’s the statues based on Make Way for Ducklings, right?” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Far easier to focus on some metal ducks than on climbing the wall between himself and Marnie. “That book’s a classic.”

  “My father gave me the book for Christmas when I was a little girl.” She turned to him, the anger still in her green eyes, the hurt rising in the bloom of her cheeks. “Do you want to know why?”

  “Yes, I do.” He wanted to know everything about Marnie, to memorize every detail of this intriguing woman who named flowers and blushed at the drop of a hat.

  She bit her lip, then exhaled, but the tears still shone in her eyes. “Because he said no matter how far any of us girls got from him, he’d always be there to make sure we got home okay. He said he’d be there.” She stopped, drawing in a breath, then letting it out again with a powerful sigh. “And he’s not there. Not now, not ever again. Because of you and your investment. You ruined our lives, Jack, and because of that, he just gave up and...died.”

  Jack let out a long breath and rested his arms on his knees. “I know I did. And I’m sorry.”

  She sat beside him, still as the statues. “I don’t understand, Jack. You helped Dot and your friend with the gym, and Luanne and Harvey. Why not my father? Why wasn’t he worth you doing the same as you did for them?”

  Jack’s gaze rested on the bronze ducklings, forever frozen in their quest to tag along after their parents. “When I went to work for my father, all I wanted was a relationship with him. I thought if I became more like him, then he’d, I don’t know, start to respect me. Give me an attaboy at least. So I learned his techniques, and I mastered them, and I went in there with his slash and burn and fire sale approach, and did the old man proud.” He let out a curse. “I destroyed companies, sold them off like stolen car parts, and waited for my father to say I’d done a good job. He never did. He found fault where there was none, complained about my soft heart when I didn’t pull the funding plug fast enough...” Jack threw up his hands. “There was no winning with that man. He was committed to the bottom line and nothing else.”