Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by Donna Ball

  On Wednesday the anxiety built inside her like a hot spring straining to crack the surface of the earth. She chewed two pencils, she broke a fingernail tapping on her desk, she put her hand on the telephone three times to call Shane. But what would she say to him? Have a good time? Let me know what happens? Don't go?

  At 5:45 she went out into the reception area. "Did you tell Shane that daisies are Mindy's favorite?" she asked Emma.

  "I certainly did." Emma was unpacking the contents of her purse, apparently looking for something.

  "Did you order some sent to her in case he forgets?"

  Emma pulled out a pair of driving shoes, a pair of house slippers and a bundle of crocheting. "All taken care of."

  "And you're going to meet them at the restaurant and make the introductions?''

  "At seven o'clock." Emma fished out a paperback book, looked at it quizzically, then added it to the pile. "I'll be out of there by 7:05."

  "Actually," Cassie said hesitantly, "you could stay and have a drink if you want. Just to make sure things are going smoothly."

  "Nonsense. You've always said our most important asset was to know when to make ourselves scarce. Besides, I have a bridge game tonight, and I'll be late as it is."

  That was Cassie's cue to volunteer to go in Emma's place, and any other time she would have. But in this case she didn't dare.

  Emma extracted a hairpin with a triumphant expression and used it to fasten one loose curl behind her ear. "I do declare, Cassie. I've never seen you so jumpy. You'd think I'd never done this before. Everything's under control. I promise you."

  “No, it's not that," Cassie assured her. "It's just that you know how important this case is and I want everything to be perfect."

  "Well, we've done the best we can and the rest is up to them."

  Emma began to repack her purse. "You know," she added, "that Mr. Bartlett is a nice young man. It's a pity."

  Cassie had started to wander restlessly back to her office. Now she turned. "What is?"

  Emma seemed to debate over a half-finished roll of candy, then put it back into her purse. "That he has to go to some other girl. You should have snatched him up when you had the chance."

  A flush of guilt started in Cassie's chest and went all the way up to her forehead. "Don't be silly. I never date clients. It's unethical."

  "Not really," Emma pointed out, struggling with the clasp on her purse. "The man came in here looking for the perfect match, and if it happens to be you..."

  "Me!" Defensiveness made Cassie's laugh a little shrill. "Believe me, no one could be further from Shane Bartlett's perfect match than me—and vice versa."

  "He's awfully good-looking."

  "Well, sure. I mean, if you like that type." Unconsciously Cassie twisted her fingers together as she paced toward the window. "I mean, I won't deny he has a certain sex appeal. But if all I wanted was someone to... to have a fling with, I certainly wouldn't have to look at my own client list for that, would I?" She turned to Emma a little anxiously.

  "I suppose not." Emma got her purse fastened, then glanced in dismay at the paperback book still lying on her desk. She began to unpack her purse again. "All I know is that it's a shame a pretty girl like you is still single at your age. And when I think of all those years working with your mother, and now you, matching other people up, it just doesn't seem right somehow that the one person who never made a match was you."

  Cassie grinned, relaxing a little. "And you," she pointed out.

  "Oh, pshaw! I'm an old woman. I'm not interested in things like that."

  But Cassie thought she saw a faint flush of pink stain Emma's cheeks, and her curiosity was aroused. Before she could pursue that, however, Emma went on, "It just seems to me that a smart girl like you would have sense enough to give a man like Shane Bartlett a second look the next time one walks into the office."

  "Just because a man looks good doesn't mean he's good for me," Cassie replied, and the exasperation in her voice was only an exaggerated denial. "I mean, for heaven’s sake, I'm everything he doesn't want in a woman, and once you get past that surface charm of his, there's absolutely nothing to appeal to a woman like me. Sure, he's nice enough. You might even say very nice... tender, and thoughtful, and even sensitive in a way...."

  She was aware of a slight wistfulness in her tone and quickly toughened it. "But you don't build a relationship on niceness. Lots of people are nice. You've got to have common interests, similar goals and needs, and Shane Bartlett and I are at exact opposite ends of the spectrum. I mean, to even consider a man like him for myself would violate every principle I believe in. It would negate all the years of research I've built the business around and it would just be downright silly. Wouldn't it?"

  Emma had stopped rummaging in her purse and was looking at Cassie with an alert interest. Cassie realized that she had sounded like a lady who protests too much, and tried to cover it with a quick laugh and a lift of her shoulders.

  "Well, it's all hypothetical, anyway," Cassie said, "since I've already found Shane Bartlett's perfect match and—" She glanced at her watch and tried to disguise the sinking feeling she felt in her stomach. "He's probably leaving right about now to pick her up. So—" she released a breath and painted on a smile that she was certain looked as false as it felt "—I guess there's no reason for me to hang around here, either."

  "That's right, dear, you go on home." Emma turned back to her purse. "Make yourself a nice dinner and go to bed early. You've been wound up like a top all week. You could use the rest."

  "Yes," Cassie agreed, and squared her shoulders determinedly. The sooner she got out of the office, the sooner she could stop thinking about Shane. "That's just what I'll do. After all, it's out of our hands now, isn't it?"

  "Don't worry. I'm sure everything will be just fine. After all, they're perfect for each other, aren't they?"

  Some of Cassie's resolve faded, and her shoulders began to sag. "Yes," she said weakly. "I suppose they are."

  And it was too late to do anything about it now, anyway.

  ***

  By eight o'clock Cassie had eaten dinner, fed the cat and washed her hair. She pulled on a nightshirt and a madras wrap robe and roamed around the apartment trying not to think about Shane. It's going to be fine, she kept telling herself. Mindy's going to adore Shane and he's going to see in her the perfect little wife and they're going to be very happy together. Cassie knew her job. Mindy and Shane were meant for each other. She had nothing to worry about. Then why was she so unhappy?

  She turned on the television and tried to watch a few minutes of a situation comedy but couldn't concentrate. It was 8:10. They were probably through the first course by now. Shane was telling amusing stories and Mindy's eyes were sparkling. Mindy had a great figure and she knew how to show it off. Shane's eyes would be dropping to her cleavage every now and then just as they had done with Cassie, and Mindy would pretend not to notice but would be preening inside, just as Cassie had done.

  "Damn it all anyway!" Cassie muttered, and flipped off the television set with a vicious gesture.

  She went into the kitchen, poured herself a diet soda and sat down at the kitchen table to drink it. She didn't know what she was so upset about. She should be proud of herself. On a short deadline she had made a match that she had every reason to believe was perfect. If this worked out the way she was certain it would, her theories would be vindicated under the most challenging of circumstances. And there was no reason in the world it shouldn't work out.

  Shane would be a loyal and devoted husband. Mindy would...

  Mindy didn't deserve him, Cassie decided abruptly. What could a twenty-three-year-old know about keeping a man like Shane happy? How could she possibly appreciate the depth, the thoughtfulness, the lonely little boy that was hidden behind Shane's carefree facade? How could she see the value of a sunset or the sweetness of a silence? How could a woman like Mindy Howard know anything at all about life!

  "Stop it," Cassie comman
ded herself, and took a long, cooling drink of the soda. She was being ridiculous. She was inventing excuses and there was no reason for it. Everything was going to work out fine.

  For a while she tried to divert herself by planning how she would spend the rest of Shane's fee. Somehow that wasn't as much fun as it once would have been.

  At 8:45 she looked at her watch. They would be approaching dessert now. She smiled a little as she remembered how Shane loved desserts. But the smile faded when she remembered that Mindy had listed "baking" as one of her favorite indoor pastimes.

  Cassie wandered back to the living room and thought about calling Emma, just to get her impression of the meeting. But what could Emma tell her after five minutes of seeing the two of them together? Besides, Emma had said she was playing bridge tonight and Cassie didn't want to interrupt.

  She picked up a book and tried to read. It was nine-thirty when she looked at her watch again. She wondered what Shane had planned after dinner. Maybe he would just take Mindy home. That would be the proper thing to do on a first date.

  She wondered if he would kiss her good-night. She wondered if he would stay the night.

  She tossed the book aside and lay back on the sofa, staring morosely at the ceiling, wondering a lot of things.

  ***

  A month ago, if a woman like Mindy Howard had walked into his life, Shane would have thought his dreams had come true. She had smooth blond hair that reached to her shoulders and was brushed behind her ears in a simple, casual style. Her eyes were blue. She had a cute pixie face that was appealing but not at all glamorous, and he liked her laugh. She didn't wear too much makeup or jewelry. She seemed a little shy at first, which he had always taken for a good sign in a woman.

  But as they sat down to dinner he thought the color of her hair seemed a little too bright and was probably dyed. She had lovely breasts, round and high, and a tiny waist, but he thought her dress was too tight and cut too low. She certainly knew how to keep a man entertained, asking questions that encouraged him to talk about himself, but after a while Shane saw through the ploy and found it boring. She had almost nothing to say about herself.

  It did turn out that she liked camping and fishing, but confessed she wasn't much of an athlete. Shane wondered if she would go to fat in a few years. Her mother had died when she was young and she had raised three brothers and sisters while her father worked. She confessed that the only thing she had ever considered herself to be really good at was raising children and keeping house. Shane asked her if she had any other interests, and she couldn't think of one.

  She explained that she had joined the dating service because she was new in town and it was hard for her to meet people. Shane agreed that the same thing was true for him. By that time he had told his life story and she had told all he wanted to hear of hers, and conversation lagged.

  He tried to figure out why he wasn't tripping all over himself to make an impression on this girl. Anyone could see she was perfect for him. A man could spend hours just watching the changing expressions in those navy blue eyes—if he weren't so busy remembering snapping green ones instead. She was sexy—no denying that. She loved to cook, she was crazy about children, she confessed she had seen all of the world she wanted to see and was ready to settle down. She professed the same enthusiasm for chocolate torte and college football that he did, and she even did needlepoint, for heaven's sake. And how could any man be bored with a woman who hung on his every word and made him feel as though there was nothing else in the world of any consequence except him?

  But Shane was bored. And he began to wonder uneasily whether Cassie was right. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted.

  Because all he could think of the whole time he was with Mindy was the way Cassie's locket had gleamed against the dip between her breasts in the candlelight. And the way Cassie had of slanting her eyes at him in disapproval, and how she could make his temper flare with her dry words. He missed her quick wit and honeyed drawl. The scent of lemon and vanilla haunted the back of his mind. And auburn hair was, after all, much more attractive than blond.

  Mindy and Shane had arrived in separate cars, and he was glad he didn't have to take her home. He told her what a pleasure it was meeting her, and she seemed disappointed when he didn't say anything about calling her again. He didn't kiss her good night, nor even think about it. Later, he supposed she might have been insulted by that.

  It was barely ten o'clock and the evening seemed to have lasted forever. He couldn't blame Cassie for that. She had done her job and had delivered what she had promised. The only trouble was, what she had promised wasn't what he needed at all.

  ***

  There was a peculiar kind of tightness in his chest and his mind was crowded as Shane got into his car and started for home. Nothing made sense anymore, and it should have been so simple. All he had ever wanted was a sweet, quiet woman capable of returning his love and being his wife. Mindy Howard had shown every possibility of being that woman. Then what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just relax and let it happen? What more did he want, anyway? He thought he knew the answer to that when, twenty minutes later, he found himself not on the highway leading out of town, but parked in front of Cassie Averil's apartment building.

  When the doorbell rang, Cassie thought it might be Emma and she rushed to answer it. Emma must have known how anxious Cassie was and had stopped by after her bridge game to report on how the meeting had gone. She tripped over Fluffy in her hurry to open the door and received a loud yowl in reprimand. Flinging open the door, she simply stared in astonishment when she saw Shane standing there.

  “Hi," he said. His eyes swept over her cotton robe, her towel-dried hair and her bare feet and he added, "Is it too late to be stopping by? Should I have called first?”

  “I, uh, no." Cassie self-consciously pulled the lapels of her robe together and pushed back her hair. "I'm just—I didn't expect to see you.”

  “Hello there, Fluffy." Shane bent down and scooped up the cat as she tried to wind between his feet. "I just thought you might like to hear how it went tonight. Do you mind if I come in?"

  “No." Cassie quickly stepped away from the door. "Please do."

  He stepped inside, still holding the cat, and Cassie gestured him toward the sofa. "Would you like something to drink or anything?"

  “I'm fine thanks." He sat down, and Fluffy posed with her forepaws on his jacket, begging for her ears to be scratched. Shane obliged.

  Cassie wasn't sure whether she felt relief or trepidation as she glanced at her watch. "It's not even ten-thirty," she said. "Wasn't that a short evening?"

  He shrugged, drawing his hand down Fluffy's back. "Long enough for me."

  Cassie looked at him sharply. "What do you mean? What went wrong? What did you do?"

  "What makes you think I did something?" he retorted. "Why couldn't it have been her? Or even you?"

  "Me? I wasn't even there!"

  "You fixed us up, didn't you?"

  "She was perfect for you!"

  "Yeah. Perfectly boring."

  Cassie did a half turn on the carpet, thrusting her fingers through her hair. Her heart was beating fast, and the adrenaline that surged through her was partly dismay and partly exhilaration. Shane hadn't liked her! All those things she had spent the evening tormenting herself over hadn't happened. Nothing had happened. Why hadn't it occurred to her that Shane might not like her?

  And then there was the dismay. She had failed. She had done her best. She had matched him with the perfect mate—and he didn't like her. That meant there was something desperately wrong with her methods, that she didn't know what she was doing, that she had made a promise she couldn't keep, that she had a contract she couldn't fulfill.

  She turned on him, her eyes narrowing. "You're doing this deliberately, aren't you? You never believed the girl I chose for you would be the right one. You never wanted to cooperate from the beginning. You wouldn’t even fill out the form! You've sabotaged this whole thing!"<
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  "Why would I do a thing like that?" Shane got up, bringing the cat with him. He couldn't believe he was raising his voice at her when he had come here to... He was no longer sure what he had come here for. He only knew that the sparks in her eyes and the color in her cheeks sent a surge of excitement through him. He'd felt more alive in the past three minutes than he had the entire evening with Mindy. "You're the one who said you knew all about me," he went on shortly. "You knew what I needed. You knew exactly how to find it."

  "And I did!" she insisted angrily. "But I can see now I wasted my time. You're so stubborn, so sure of what you want, that it doesn't matter what I do. You're not going to be happy with anyone I find for you, are you?"

  "No," he answered. "I'm not."

  Cassie released a hissing breath through her teeth and turned her back on him.

  Shane saw the square set of her small shoulders, the angry tilt of her head, and the irritation he had felt evaporated into tenderness, into desire, into no small measure of frustration. He let the cat slip from his arms and took a step toward her.

  "Cassie," he said gently, but she didn't turn around. He took a breath and forced his voice to remain reasonable, even though all he really wanted to do was whirl her around and kiss the anger from her face. "All right, look. I didn't mean to criticize your job. Maybe Mindy was perfect for me. Okay, she was perfect. She was pleasant and she was easy to talk to and we had a lot in common." He saw her shoulders relax a little, and he went on, "But all that isn't going to make something happen that just isn't there. Do you know what I mean?"

  "No, I don't know what you mean!" She turned around, frustration explicit in her voice and in her tight, dismissive gesture. But inside there was still that exultant little voice echoing, Nothing happened. Nothing happened... "You just got finished saying she was perfect, and I told you she was perfect. What did you expect, for heaven's sake?"

  "Some spark, some chemistry."

  "Oh, for the love of—! I thought you were serious. I thought you wanted someone you could spend the rest of your life with. You can't build a lifetime on chemistry!"