Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “I don’t want the house,” Ray grumbled.

  Eleanor sighed. “No, I suppose you don’t. What you want is to go around blaming other people for your unhappiness. John and Lindsay aren’t the ones making you unhappy. You’re doing that to yourself.”

  “How am I supposed to feel? If it weren’t for her,” he gave a nod toward Lindsay’s bed, “you wouldn’t be in this hospital. You’d be—”

  Eleanor saw a tiny window of opportunity and seized it.

  “I’d be dead,” she said. “That’s where I’d be. Lindsay’s the one who saved my life.”

  Lindsay heard what was said and turned to Eleanor with a look of disbelief. Eleanor spotted the look and rolled over it before Lindsay could voice an objection.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” she said, “I know I told you that I wasn’t going to tell Ray, but this is something he needs to know.”

  Ray stammered, “You mean she…?”

  “Yes, she risked her own life to save me. That’s how her leg got broken!” Eleanor could easily enough justify her lie by thinking of it as simply role reversal. “Do you think you would you do the same?”

  “Of course I would,” he answered.

  “Of course you would? I doubt that, especially since you’re too busy to even return a telephone call.”

  “I said I was sorry. But—”

  “There are no buts in life, you either do or you don’t. No minute ever comes around a second time. You have one chance to use each minute. You can use it to love and be happy, or you can use it to be angry and hateful. I’m going to use every minute I have to love and be happy.”

  Eleanor leaned back into her pillow and hesitated for a moment, and then she looked square into Ray’s face, a face that looked exactly like his daddy’s. “I love you, Ray, and I pray that you can find it in your heart to do the same thing.”

  “I will,” he said reluctantly. “But it’s not easy to see my mother being somebody else’s—”

  “Do you see yourself as someday being a father?”

  “Well, of course I do.”

  “Funny, because I see you as my son. When you become a father, does that mean you’ll no longer be my son?”

  “No.” He shook his head sheepishly. “But that’s different.”

  “It’s not all that different,” Eleanor said. “I’ve been a daughter, a wife, a mother and hopefully one of these days I’ll be a grandmother.”

  Traci snickered and gave Ray a poke in the back.

  “Now I’ve been blessed with another opportunity to become a wife to the man I love. Second chances don’t come around all that often. Can’t you please just be happy for me?”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Ray mumbled. “If you’re happy then I’ll be happy for you.”

  His words had the sound of a forced apology, but the look of anger was no longer spread across his face. Ray shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “But you can forget about my taking the house.”

  “That’s not something you have to decide right now.” Eleanor smiled.

  Ray moved to the side of his mother’s bed, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom. And, yes, we’ll be there for Thanksgiving.”

  No one noticed when John arrived, but apparently he’d been standing in the doorway long enough to hear something that made him smile. When he walked into the room, he looped his arm across Ray’s shoulder and gave a squeeze.

  “Welcome to the family,” he said.

  Luckily Ray couldn’t see himself, because his ears had blossomed into the color of a scarlet rose.

  “Thanks,” he stammered.

  ~ ~ ~

  It might look like everyone is coming out of this unscathed, but unfortunately that’s not quite true. For a while I figured The Boss was going to gloss over what I’d done to Life Management. I even started believing He might be in agreement with my opinion. Apparently not. He said He’d let it slide this time, but if I used the mega love zap on Life Management again I’d find myself shoveling coal. I think you know what that means. To prove He meant business he gave me 684 cold case assignments. Every one of them a couple who’d been married for decades.

  “They’ve lost the joy of their love,” He said, “and it’s up to you to see that they get it back!”

  I argued that I’m only supposed to handle matches, not repairs. He said to consider it a penance for the prank I pulled. Repairs are tough. They make working with someone like Lindsay seem like a piece of cake. Repairs involve humans with years of stored-up slights: forgotten anniversaries, busy schedules, arguments. The list is endless, and with that kind of baggage they’re none too quick to forgive or forget. Not only do I have to rekindle all 684 love affairs, but I have to get it done by December thirty-first.

  I guess this pretty much nixes any plans I had for a day off.

  Eleanor

  It’s odd how the worst of things sometimes work out to be the best that could have happened. I’d like to sound like the heroine of this story and tell you I was willing to give my life to save Lindsay’s, but the truth of the matter is I didn’t have time to dwell on it. When I saw that car coming toward her, I knew I had to save Lindsay. It’s what any mother would do. Yes, I’m well aware that I’m not her mother, but try telling my heart that.

  A few weeks back, I figured John and I might have to give up the thought of getting married because both Lindsay and Ray were vehemently opposed to us even seeing each other. Things certainly have changed. Oh, we’re not a full-fledged family yet, but at least we’re on the way to becoming one.

  Although I’m not happy to see Lindsay with her leg in a big heavy cast, it’s way better than the alternative. And, selfish though it may sound, the accident did serve a purpose in bringing Ray around. He’s terribly stubborn, and once he gets a hate in his heart he just about never lets go of it. I honestly thought he’d stay mad at me forever. It’s sad how people like Ray can waste so much of their life being angry. They carry around a grudge and wait until the person dies before they can forgive and forget. And by then it’s too late. Ray did that with his daddy, and when he came running to the hospital I’ll bet he thought the same thing was going to happen with me.

  When I started saying how Lindsay saved my life I spotted the look on her face and figured for sure she was gonna let the cat out of the bag, but apparently she caught on because she didn’t mention a word about how it happened the other way. I know Ray, and if for one minute he thought I risked my life to save Lindsay he’d hate her and her daddy all the more. I’m not a big advocate of telling lies but that one was my only shot at bringing Ray around, so I’m hoping it’s something the Lord can live with.

  When I got home and started fixing for Thanksgiving Day, I thought back on how Ray sat all by himself at the barbeque. I sure didn’t want that to happen again. I told John he was gonna have to make sure Ray had a good time on Thanksgiving. Ray’s not much of a joiner, I said, so you may have to work to draw him into the conversation.

  After everything that had happened, I was determined not to let anything spoil our Thanksgiving Day, and nothing did—not my mismatched candles, not the missing cranberry sauce and not even Ray.

  Okay, I’ll admit I was a bit worried at first, because Ray walked in wearing that “I dare you to cross me” look of his, but I nodded across the room and gave John the high sign. Next thing I know, he’s standing alongside Ray asking what he thinks of this year’s Philadelphia Eagles. After that they moved into a lengthy discussion about football, basketball and the stock market. I had to chuckle when I heard them discussing the Daytona 500, because that’s one sport John doesn’t know a thing about.

  The one who really surprised me that day was Traci. The girl has never shown one iota of domesticity, and yet she spent most of the afternoon following me around the kitchen asking what ingredients go into one thing and another. She even wrote them down on a little notepad she pulled from her pocket. And if that wasn’t surprise enough, right after dinner she
asked if I’d teach her how to crochet a throw. I wondered if she really meant “throw” or was thinking “baby blanket.” Traci had a certain look, and it’s a look I’m not usually wrong about.

  All in all, it was a really good day. Everybody said the turkey was delicious, but I didn’t eat much myself. I was too busy being happy.

  I was packing up leftovers when Ray and Traci came in to say goodbye. He kissed my cheek, then leaned over and whispered in my ear that John was a pretty nice guy after all. When I saw Ray walk out the door wearing a smile, I thought my heart would burst because it was so full of happiness.

  You can’t ask for a better Thanksgiving than that.

  Cupid

  The Dog’s in the Mail

  Right now I’m seeing a rosy outlook for everyone—everyone except me. I’m not quite finished here, and I’ve still got the 684 not-so-happy couples to deal with. Yeah, maybe I could walk away and let love take its course, but the truth is I’ve got a vested interest in seeing it out. People like Eleanor restore my faith in humans. Granted, you’re an odd lot, but you’re what I’ve got to work with. So I try to make the best of it, and every so often a few couples like this happen along. Then I realize how important my job really is. After more centuries than you’ve got fingers to count, I still get a thrill out of matches like this.

  ~ ~ ~

  Unfortunately Lindsay’s days of working at the Kindness Animal Clinic were over, at least for the time being—and even though that accident was not of my making, her not being at the clinic gave me the opportunity to push my plan into action. It started five days after Thanksgiving when Matthew received an e-mail that read:

  Dear Doctor Mead,

  I am responding to a notice you posted on the Tiny Treasures website. I think we have the dog you are looking for. Three weeks ago a dog matching this description showed up in our backyard. I thought it most likely belonged to someone in our area, but after two weeks of advertising in the newspaper and putting posters in store windows no one has called to claim her. Yesterday we took the dog to our vet for a checkup and discovered that she has a microchip implant with the Kindness Animal Clinic listed as owner. The address indicates that you are in New Jersey. We are located in Florida, and I am uncertain as to how best to get this dog back to you. Please advise.

  Jayne Rayner –

  A photo of the dog is attached.

  _____________________________________

  At first Matthew thought the e-mail was a hoax, a cruel joke maybe. He sat there and reread the words four times before he could come to believe it was true. A fairly practical man, he kept asking himself how Kindness could be listed as the owner. Was it possible Lindsay found the dog and put the chip in? No, not possible. She’d have said something.

  After nearly a half hour of wondering how this had happened, he came to accept that there was no explanation. The picture of the dog was exactly the same as the one Lindsay tacked onto the bulletin board. Finding the dog was as unexplainable as a crocus popping up from beneath the snow or a rainbow on a clear day.

  Carefully measuring the weight of each word, Matthew responded to the e-mail.

  Dear Ms. Rayner,

  I am delighted to learn that your vet discovered the microchip in…

  _____________________________________

  He hesitated a moment then typed in the name “Fluffy.” The woman inferred the dog was a female—the e-mail read “took her to the vet”, “she had a microchip”—but it was probably best to use a generic name good for either male or female.

  He started typing again.

  _____________________________________

  I am delighted to learn that your vet discovered the microchip in Fluffy. My fiancée has been searching for her for well over a month, and this will most certainly be welcome news. If you will send me the name of the vet you work with, I can arrange for them to crate and ship the dog to me. To thank you for taking such good care of Fluffy, I’d like to send you a token of my appreciation, so please also include your address.

  Sincerely yours,

  Matthew Mead

  _____________________________________

  He pressed Send. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Nowhere in the e-mail had he actually lied—well, with the single exception of giving Fluffy a name. He had not said send her “home,” nor had he said it was his dog or Lindsay’s dog. He had simply said they’d been searching for her. Okay, he did call Lindsay his fiancée and that was a stretch, but perhaps in time…

  For once Lindsay is right. This one is a man with principles.

  I watched as Matthew leaned back in his chair and began waiting. That day he checked his e-mail seventeen times. He found plenty of messages: dog food specials, breeder notices, volunteer requests. Everything but an answer from Jayne Rayner.

  Later that night as he sat on the sofa alongside of Lindsay, I knew it was all he could do not to mention the e-mail. He was afraid there was a remote chance it wouldn’t work out. I can assure you it will, but you’ll have to wait to learn about Matthew’s plan.

  The next morning Matthew arrived at the office a full hour earlier than was necessary. He walked through the front door, straight back to his office and immediately switched on the computer. As he sat there waiting, it seemed to take forever for the computer to boot. When at long last the screen came to life, he clicked the “Get Mail” shortcut and began to scan the list. It was third from the bottom.

  Dear Doctor Mead,

  As per your request, the name and address of our vet is Herman Goodman, 467 Main Street, Stuart, Florida. Doctor Goodman’s telephone number is 772-894-7867. After you have made arrangements with him, please let me know and I will take Fluffy to his office.

  She is such a sweetie, Gerald and I will be sad to see her go.

  As for your generous offer of a reward, please be assured that none is necessary. Having Fluffy with us for the past month has been reward enough.

  Yours truly, Jayne Rayner

  A wave of guilt passed over Matthew, because he knew he was taking the dog from someone who had obviously become fond of her. The guilt came and went in less than thirty seconds, and before Matthew’s first appointment walked through the door he’d spoken to Herman Goodman and made the necessary arrangements to have the dog crated and shipped to the Philadelphia airport.

  Throughout the remainder of that day and for the week following, Matthew walked around with a smile stuck on his face. And as if that weren’t enough, he bought five huge red poinsettias and placed them all over the reception room. Before the calendar was flipped to December, he began wishing everyone he met a Merry Christmas.

  “Aren’t you a little early?” Mary Ellen McNamara said, but Matthew just smiled and handed her bulldog a free chew toy.

  ~ ~ ~

  Love…I still enjoy watching what it does to humans. And despite my age, which is something I refuse to discuss, I’m always ready to learn new things. This experience has been an eye-opener, and even though at times it’s been a test of my patience I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Oh, I know the logic you humans use, and more than likely you think what I’ve learned is not to mess with Life Management. Wrong. What I’ve learned is how to use all this internet technology to my advantage.

  For centuries I’ve been doing everything by hand, individual one-on-one love matches. I hover over them to make sure the male says the right thing and the female smiles the right way. Yeah, it works well, but it’s a time killer. Oh, there are still going to be cases where it’s necessary, but then there are others…

  On these repairs, I’ve got a plan that’s nothing short of brilliant. The Boss wants me to give them back the romance they once had, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. If this works out the way I believe it will, I might actually get to take a day off. I’m thinking maybe Christmas.

  Cupid

  Tis the Season

  Matthew picked up the dog at the Philadelphia airport nine days before Christmas. The fur ball arrived in a
wire crate with a flannel pad on the bottom that had a price tag of $12.98 stuck to it. That was it. One small dog in need of a haircut, one pad and the wire crate. No toy, no water, no leash. Crating and shipping the dog had cost almost five hundred dollars, but Matthew had been happy to pay it. After he signed for the shipment and walked away carrying the crate, he stopped, bought a bottle of water and asked for a paper cup. He squatted down, opened the cage door and reached for the dog. She approached him cautiously, sniffing, stopping, sniffing again then moving forward. She lapped the water, and as she drank Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small milk bone biscuit. She sniffed it then pushed it away with her nose.

  He laughed. “Oh, so you’re not hungry. Okay then, let’s head for home.”

  He scooped the dog into his right arm, hooked the fingers of his left hand onto the cage and walked out of the airport and across to the parking lot. The crate was tossed into the trunk, and the dog rode in the front seat alongside Matthew.

  “I’ve got a very important job for you,” he said, and as he spoke the dog tipped its head to the right as if it were listening intently.

  “Impossible,” Matthew muttered. “Impossible.”

  That first night he took the dog back to his house, but the following morning she went with him to the Kindness Animal Clinic. Instead of assigning the job of grooming the scruffy-looking dog to Tom, the new assistant he’d hired, Matthew did it himself. In fact he spent almost all morning bathing the dog, adding a conditioner, clipping her hair and trimming her nails. Although the dog trembled when he first began to clip the knots from her hair she soon settled down, and when he wrapped her in a soft terry towel the dog stretched her neck and began licking his hand.