by Maggie Way
Even without being the head of HR, she knew there was no way around skipping it. Not that her degree in psychology and human behavior were the qualifications needed for the head HR position, which is why she did the extra course work for an HR certification, but her primary degrees were what made her such a spot-on matchmaker. Any failures to match had not been because she’d targeted incorrectly but because the person in question hadn’t been as ready as they’d thought.
Jane’s job was to spin love in such a way to make people flock to Meryton Matchmakers in search of it. Elizabeth didn’t envy her. Of the two of them, Jane had the hardest job, but who better suited to market love than a person who was decidedly a true romantic?
“Do you not think it’s suspicious Mr. Darcy’s coming?” Jane’s question sounded less threatening coming from her. Something about her easy nature and soft voice brought out the best in people.
Bill shrugged and leaned toward her. “I’m not sure, but I’m told he’s learning the ropes. She wants him to learn about MM is my speculation. It could mean he’s going to be stepping into a more active role in her empire. Again, just a guess.”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Elizabeth asked, pointing to his hands and the inordinate twisting.
Bill went still.
“If you think there is something we should know—” This from Jane.
“Ecclesiastes 3:7 A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak,” said Mary, the sister behind Elizabeth in birth. She had a verse for everything, though usually ones that didn’t promote the cause at hand.
“I know what the Bible says, Mary,” huffed Bill. “I am a minister.”
“Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be at your other job? I think the fact that you are here telling us this is a bad omen. Go off to work and don’t come back until you have some holy water and can bless this place,” Elizabeth said. What he’d said here today could have easily been passed along in an email.
“Yeah, like so she won’t be able to cross the threshold,” said Lydia.
Jane gasped, and Elizabeth smothered a chuckle.
“Be nice, Lydia. Lizzy. We have this job because of Lady Catherine,” Jane scolded.
Not one to hold her tongue, Lydia, the youngest, merely shrugged before she continued. “Well, I for one don’t like it.” She slapped her hand on the table. “Things are fine here without their interference. I don’t want anyone telling me how to do my job.” Lydia ended her tirade with trout mouth, a puckered lip pose she thought was so becoming and probably pouty, yet, looked quite stupid. Her sisters had told her this. Not that she listened to any of them.
“Oh go pluck your eyebrows or something,” said Mary.
“You should pluck your eyebrows or should I say eyebrow.” Lydia drew an imaginary line straight across her forehead.
“Knock, knock,” Bill said. As the company’s spiritual advisor, it was his job to make sure there was peace among the staff as much as it was to make sure the couples who got matched together were well suited. Spiritually. For the staff he’d known to use humor, specifically knock-knock jokes. Elizabeth only hoped he didn’t do this with the clients.
“Please, not a joke.” Lydia covered her eyes.
“Knock, knock.” Bill said again with more force.
“Who’s there?” Mary always took the bait.
“Babylon.”
“Babylon who?”
Bill watched at Lydia, who peeked at him through her fingers before answering, “Babylon with hurtful words all you want, but cuts require time to heal.”
“That’s not even a joke.” Lydia crosses her arms over her chest.
Aware that the meeting was moments from deteriorating, Elizabeth went for a distraction. “Mary, is everything set for the mixer Friday?”
Their biggest event yet, an outdoor concert and BBQ, mixing happily matched clients with new ones and (hopefully) potential ones. Only three days were left to weed out problems.
Elizabeth made a note on her pad to stop in and speak with Lottie Lucas, her bestie and the caterer for the event.
Mary consulted her two calendars before answering, “Yes.” She kept both for fear she’d mess something up.
“We have two video shoots today. One is that dreamy Captain Wentworth. I do love a man in uniform. I hope he’ll let me do his hair at least.” Lydia sighed dreamily.
“That’s unlikely, and remember you are not allowed to date the clients,” Elizabeth reminded her. Not that it was written explicitly in their handbook, but it was pasted into the one they gave Lydia and Kitty. A fortuitous insight on Jane’s behalf.
“Whatevs.” Lydia tossed her curls and rolled her eyes. She was quite masterful at it, really. “One day, I’m going to get a real job in a city much bigger and better than this one. Watch and see.”
Everyone had one such person in their family, Elizabeth assumed. The obnoxious-know-it-all-entitled one. Yes, that was their Lydia. As much as it annoyed her, she tried to remember this Lydia-monster was the product of two things: being the baby of the family and their mother’s influence. A diva in her own right. What couldn’t be overlooked was that Lydia continued to ride it so long. It couldn’t be easy not having all your expectations met.
Mary snorted. “One day you’ll go to a bigger city, you say? That’s not hard to do. Meryton had less than five thousand people.”
Lydia ignored Mary. “While Lady Catherine is here, see about moving the company to New York? Why you two picked here—”
Elizabeth didn’t bother to raise her voice. “Privacy. That’s why.” They’d repeatedly had this conversation. Not one to flog a dead horse, Elizabeth stood and effectively cut off further discussion. “We’ll not be suggesting a move to anywhere. Is that all, Bill? Any other bombs you’ve got up your sleeves? I’d like to get back to my desk.”
Bill pantomimed pulling his sleeves wide and peered up them. He then faced Elizabeth and shook his head.
“Jane,” Elizabeth whispered. “You think she’ll give us a hard time about how nearly our entire family works here?” This was not a new concern for Elizabeth and something she’d voiced before. More than once.
“No, we’re the owners. We don’t need to run every decision by her.” She shrugged. “I’m not worried, Lizzy. Everything works out.”
Normally, Elizabeth would roll her eyes at such blind optimism, but Jane had been that way since she was in diapers.
They walked back to their shared office in silence. Though Jane immediately took a seat and got to work, Elizabeth stood at her desk staring at her to-do notes but not really reading them, all the while flipping her phone over repeatedly in her hand.
“I don’t like this, Jane. Why didn’t she tell us she was coming?” Elizabeth plopped into her chair then lifted the top of her laptop and started searching her emails for answers.
“I think she may have.” Jane ducked behind her laptop.
Instantly, Elizabeth’s attention was back on Jane. “I beg your pardon?” It was not like Jane to forget something of this magnitude.
“She asked me to talk to you about automation so we could all speak about it at a later date.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Something niggled at her memory pushing to come forward.
“I tried, remember? A few weeks ago at Mom and Dad’s?”
What she was kindly not saying was how Elizabeth nearly bit her head off at the mention of turning their beloved company into something like those online sites. If she didn’t have to have a website she never would.
“I’d told her we talked, and that it wasn’t in MM’s future. We continue to believe in human factor.”
Elizabeth nodded and returned to stare at her computer.
Pulling up a search engine she typed Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A few articles down she found what she was looking for, the Wiki page for William F. Darcy, billionaire. Who, oddly enough, couldn’t take a picture that wasn’t blurred.
It didn
’t take much reading to get a bead on what was really going on.
“We’re in trouble, Jane. Mr. Darcy is not coming to learn more about us. I’m willing to wager this year’s salary he’s coming to automate us or…worse.”
“What do you mean by worse?”
“Darcy, according to this page.” —she turned the computer so it faced Jane— “is a business broker.”
Jane leaned toward the screen. “Why is he fuzzy? Are there no quality pictures of him?”
“Perhaps he’s so unsightly the camera breaks every time it snaps a shot of him. This is what we get.” Elizabeth tapped the grainy, squint-inducing images.
“What do you mean by ‘business broker’?”
“I mean that’s a gentle way of saying corporate raider. Most of The Bourgh’s assets come from what he’s acquired and sold.” Now more than ever, her Star Trek reference seemed more relevant. Too bad no one in her family got it.
“Why would he be coming here?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Why indeed?”
Meryton Matchmakers was a rising matchmaking company, and it was her matchmaking company. And Jane’s, of course. Too bad Lady Catherine de Bourgh struggled to remain the silent partner she was intended to be. In today’s world, where people made up and broke up on social media, a TV bachelor sparred pencil-thin, fame-seekers against each other for his affections, and wooing was done though text messaging, Elizabeth and Jane figured Cupid could use a hand.
Ironic as it might be, Elizabeth wasn’t a believer in love. At least not the love she saw today. No, she was worse than nonbelievers; she subscribed to the ideal that each person had one true soul mate. The odds of finding them were exceedingly impossible, and though Elizabeth knew she might never find that person, she couldn’t imagine going her entire life not having tried.
Hopefully, what they did here every day at MM narrowed those odds some, and she wasn’t about to let money get in the way of people, like herself, finding the love of their lives.
Chapter Three
As was her custom, Elizabeth ran between four and six miles each morning before work. When one lived and worked with one’s sisters, one needed as much time away as possible and an activity to work out frustrations. For Elizabeth, that was running, and today was a runner’s dream.
The sun, unobscured by clouds, the blue sky its moment to shine. Mother Nature offered a gentle breeze, and by glancing at her watch, Elizabeth was pleased to see she’d increased her running pace by seven minutes. Using the tab on her headphone cord, she upped the volume and let the beat of the heavy pulsing metal band push her. She hoped to harness some of the vibe for work. She was going to need it. The Bourgh’s visit was scheduled today, according to Bill’s intel, and she was determined to make this day as positive as possible. Increased run pace was a great start.
The morning had yet to begin for the rest of Meryton. Only the local tea and coffee café and grocer were seeing any action. Elizabeth’s best friend Lottie’s family-owned Lucas Lodge and Café used to be a hotel and tearoom back several generations ago. Now, having conformed to the time, the hotel part was long closed and the tearoom offered breakfast, lunch, and catering.
Elizabeth knew Lottie started her day before the sun rose, and it would be right about now she could be persuaded to take a break.
The sidewalks of Meryton were wide and offered a tremendous amount of room for walkers, strollers, and the like during the normal hours of the day. Imagine her surprise when she turned up the block toward Lottie’s café and standing directly in her path was a tall guy doing a remarkably good impression of a statue. He was built like one, too. Broad and solid, his stance wide as he held a coffee cup in one hand, the other tucked in his front pocket. He stared out toward town completely unaware that she was headed for him.
“Heads up,” Elizabeth shouted over the music only she could hear.
He turned his head slowly toward her, still not moving.
“Go up, please.” She assumed he would follow her instructions.
Not so much.
Simultaneously, they moved in the same direction, closer to the buildings. Then closer to the street. Then back again.
Elizabeth pulled her ear buds out. “Go up.” She waved manically for him to move, hoping to not break her stride, but it was too late. Their uncoordinated dance caused her to falter her steps. It was not one of those cute excuse me-oh no, excuse me dances where both parties tried to move from each other’s path only to find themselves closer and laughing. No, the thin press of his lips told her he found nothing cute about it, and as she drew closer, he briefly arched one brow before he brought the mug to his lips. He came off almost…haughty. As if she was putting him out.
Next, she noticed his light blue eyes. Then his demeanor. He wasn’t smiling nor was he glaring. He’s searched her up and down with his flinty regard, his brows winging slightly.
Elizabeth knew he wasn’t from the area. There wasn’t a single thing about him that spoke of their small country town. Not his dark-washed jeans and light knit sweater in matching soft blue. Like he was meant to be on a magazine layout. Yet, there was something awkward, or dare she say stiff, in his posture.
When his gaze met hers, a thrill of something so wholly unfamiliar to her raced through her body and heated her from the inside out. That alone was enough to help her find her manners.
“Good morning.” She was surprised she managed to sound normal because, at the very least, she expected her racing heart to affect her speech. Make it stammer or something.
He nodded slightly. “Morning.”
She wanted to say something else, something clever, but that was hard to do with a complete stranger. She went with, “Next time queue up to your other left. Unless you were trying to get me to collide with you.” She gestured toward the top of the pavement and smiled so he knew she was teasing. Maybe even think she was flirting. Which she might have been? She wasn’t sure. It had been so long since she’d found anyone worthy of the energy.
“Do you always run on the sidewalk where most people are milling about?” There was a subtle clipped tone to his words, and Elizabeth stepped back.
Racy heart and heated blood aside, she was instantly perplexed by his standoffishness.
“Generally, in the ten years I’ve been running this path, I’ve not come across someone standing in the middle of the walkway at this time in the morning. You can imagine my surprise.”
“Can I?” He sipped from his mug again.
“Can you not?” Now the clipped tone belonged to her. He lacked imagination, she mentally noted. She liked men with imagination. In one second she’d considered him someone she might like to know, but he came off that list in the next one.
“Is it a good path to run? Is there not some place that doesn’t cross through town?” He looked over her shoulder in the direction from which she came.
Elizabeth shrugged. “It depends on what you are looking for. I like this path. I get a variety of scenery and challenges.” She stepped aside and toward the café.
“And the kilometers?” Still looking down the sidewalk.
Kilometers? What country did he think he was in? Was it his way to say he was a runner as well? There were less...pretentious ways to do so.
She did a quick calculation. “Nearly six and a half. If you go around the lake and through town.” Her heart rate had slowed, and the idea of a nice cuppa for her cooling off and stretching period appealed to her immensely. He jerked his attention to her, surprise briefly flashed across his features but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He then nodded and returned to his study of the direction she'd come from.
“Well, then.” She had no further conversation to offer. Opening the door, she wished him a good day before entering.
“Without a doubt,” he said.
Elizabeth stepped into the shop and paused long enough to inhale the loveliness that was all Lottie’s doing. Pastries that were out of the world. Add to it the tea and coff
ee, and it was a cornucopia of goodness.
“Do I smell something spicy? Cayenne maybe?” Elizabeth smiled at her best friend and roommate. One couldn’t be tight with a foodie and not learn to identify scents or flavors while blindfolded.
“Morning, Lizzy, you staying or going?” Lottie waved at her from behind the counter.
“Morning. That depends on what that amazing smell is.”
“Today’s special is Mexican hot chocolate, and I’m working on a sinfully good cupcake with cayenne pepper and cream cheese frosting.”
Sounded unusual, but Elizabeth knew it wouldn’t be anything less than unbelievably decadent. Lottie was a cupcake prodigy. She was part of the reason why Elizabeth ran. Frequent taste-testing was part of her friend-duties, and there was no way Elizabeth could say no to that.
“How was your run? Day starting out well?” Lottie handed her a large black coffee. Elizabeth loaded it with a splash of cream and two sugars.
“My run was fabulous. But—” Elizabeth leaned over the counter to get closer. “I just had the oddest conversation.” She peeked over her shoulder to find the man watching her through Lottie’s large paned window. Quickly, she turned away. “Ack, he’s still there.” She grimaced.
“I should hope so. He’s got one of my mugs. Did he say something rude to you?” Briefly, Lottie considered the guy outside.
“No, he…I can’t describe it. It felt odd.”
“I see,” she said but halted the conversation when Bill came in from the back whistling a jaunty tune.
“Morning, Billy,” Lottie said, moving toward him. She took the bag he held out to her.
“Fresh cayenne from Rosings Park’s garden.” Bill crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, a smug smile across his face.
Elizabeth stepped toward him. “Did you—”
“Help myself to peppers from the abundant garden at Rosings? Where there are so many they are rotting on the vine? Perhaps.” Bill winked at Lottie.
“You stole them.” Elizabeth sipped her coffee, using the cup to hide her smile.
