The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  I chug the rest of my G&T and motion for the bartender to get me another.

  Holly turns to Colin, who is a captive audience for her let’s-mortify-Candy story. “So, Elsie had called in sick, right? And I couldn’t help out because I had a school trip or something like that. Which meant Candy was the only one who could help. Get this…she puts on her favorite dress, a pair of high heels and does her hair and makeup like she’s going out on the town.”

  Colin is chuckling. “Why in the world would you do that?” he asks me.

  “Because of Brian,” Holly answers in a sing-song voice.

  I glare at her. What are we, eight?

  “Who’s Brian?” Colin’s head is ping-ponging from me to Holly.

  “Brian was the high school kid Mom and Dad hired to work the register in the afternoons after school let out. Candy had a huge crush on him. And despite the fact Mom tried to get her to go home and change out of the insanely expensive dress she was wearing, Candy refused. So she spent the whole day baking in her favorite dress and heels.”

  “Well, how did the baking go?”

  Holly looks at me and bursts into laughter. I’m going to kill her. “She was a disaster! Mom banned her from the kitchen after that. I mean, seriously, you should have seen her. She looked like a scrawny version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Flour and batter everywhere—in her hair, covering her dress. Little children went running from her in fear! We called her the Abominable Dough Girl after that.”

  Holly and Colin are sharing a good laugh now. How nice. I smile, trying to be a good sport, but really, this isn’t helping at all. Considering I’m going to be the primary baker at Candy’s Confections, I don’t find this memory particularly amusing. It’s frightening, actually. What were my parents thinking?

  I guzzle the last of my drink. What am I thinking?

  Once they calm down, Colin takes another sip of his G&T, and then turns to me. “So, I assume you’ve learned to bake since then, right?”

  They’re both staring at me, so I force a little laugh and say, “Sure! I mean, it can’t be that hard, can it? It’s not like I’m a mindless teenager anymore, anyway. I’m sure I can follow recipes a lot better than I used to.”

  Colin raises his eyebrows. “You mean, you don’t actually know how to bake now?”

  I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “Well…not in so many words, but it’ll be fine.”

  “If you don’t know how to bake, then why are they insisting you…bake?” Colin looks just as confused as I feel.

  I want to answer him honestly, but if I start talking about the change he’ll probably try to have me committed. I’m considering that option myself. At least it would get me out of all this. But the truth is, I still don’t know what the hell the change even is.

  I fish for another reason, but my mind is blank.

  “Because she’s the oldest!” Holly puts in and I can see by her smile that she’s proud of her fast thinking. “It’s family tradition, apparently. So Candy just has to learn.”

  Oh, God. I don’t know if it’s the G&T or the nerves, but I feel like I’m going to hurl. “Will you excuse me for just a minute?”

  I slide off my barstool and head for the bathroom. At least, I hope I’m heading for the bathroom. I feel like I’m in a funhouse with all these mirrors and candles.

  “Miss, can I help you with something?”

  “Bathroom.”

  “Sure, it’s up near the front, just as you walk in.”

  Great. I get to walk by the bar again. That won’t be embarrassing at all.

  “Candy,” Holly says as I get closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I say, but I don’t stop. “Bathroom’s this way.”

  I can feel them both staring after me. All of a sudden, I just want this night to end. I want to go back to New York. I want to be having drinks with Lucy in the Village, talking about work and Steve—anything to take my mind off of this.

  In the bathroom, I whip out my cell phone. I know she’s probably in the midst of a horrible meltdown with Steve over his one-night stand, but I have to talk to her.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Lucy Carmine. I can’t take your call right now, so please leave a detailed message and I’ll get right back to you.”

  Damn it.

  “Lucy, it’s me. I know you’re probably having it out with Steve right now, but I really need to talk to you. Like…really. Something big is—”

  “Candy, are you in here?”

  Shit. “Um, yeah,” I call from the stall. “Just…finishing up.” I flush the toilet, even though there’s nothing to flush, and drop my cell phone back in my Darby Scott handbag before exiting the stall.

  “There you are.” Holly is at the counter, looking at my reflection in the mirror as she touches up her lip gloss. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

  I put on a smile. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Really. Just a little too much to drink, I think.” Though not nearly enough to forget about the decision I’ve just made.

  Holly turns around and grabs my hand. She’s staring into my eyes with so much compassion I want to cry. And I probably will cry when she says something sweet like, “It’s all going to be okay, Candy. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” I almost cry just thinking about her saying that.

  “Do you want me to back off?” is what she actually says, and I’m caught off guard.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “With Colin. I can tell you like him, so if you want me to back off, I will.”

  I’m speechless. Where is this coming from? And when did it become apparent that I had a thing for Colin? I’ve been playing it cool. She’s the one who’s been all over him, trying to turn him against me with her embarrassing stories.

  “Um, no,” I manage. “I mean, yes. I…Look, this isn’t about me liking him—”

  “So you do! I knew it!”

  “No, Holly, listen to me. Neither of us can have him.” I’m slightly astounded by my brilliance. Being in charge will certainly have its advantages. Like keeping Holly away from my destiny.

  Holly puts her hands on her hips in a huff. “Oh, well, isn’t that nice? If you can’t have him, no one can?”

  I roll my eyes. “We’re going to be working together, Hol. All of us. No more workplace romances for you, okay?”

  “But what if he’s the one? Are you really going to stop us from falling in love?”

  Wow. My sister’s always been dramatic, but this takes the cake. I’m tempted to tell her about Madame Antoinette’s prediction, but I hold my tongue. I don’t care to get into it here. “Fine, we’ll talk about it. I would hate to keep Juliet from her Romeo.”

  Holly grabs me by the shoulders and kisses my cheek. “I promise I won’t mess things up this time.”

  Crap. A smile breaks out on her lips, and I know she’s plotting her next move, as if my saying we’d talk about it gave her the green light. I really don’t want to stand around and watch her woo him, but what choice do I have? I can’t drive after all I’ve had to drink, and if I take a taxi back to Mom and Dad’s now, I’ll just have to hang out with them, which will undoubtedly lead to more anxiety about all the changes I’m about to face. No, I’ll just have to wait it out and hope Holly takes my advice to keep things platonic.

  We get back to our stools and I see that three shots are laid out on the bar in front of Colin. Oh, no. Please God, no.

  “What are these for?” Holly asks as she jumps onto her bar stool.

  “I thought we should share celebratory shots,” Colin says as he passes one to me and then Holly. “This is called Redhead’s Nipple.”

  Holly bursts into laughter, but I break out into a raging blush. Hearing Colin talk about nipples has me a little hot and bothered. What happened to Kamikazes? Or just plain old tequila?

  Colin holds up his shot glass with a wide smile that’s so intoxicating it should be illegal. “To Candy’s Confections!” he shouts.

  Holly repeats the toast as I dump t
he shot down my throat. She and Colin both shoot theirs, and then Holly starts “Woohoo”ing. Really? I feel like we’re back in college at frat parties that I never really wanted to be at in the first place.

  “Let’s do another one!”

  By the time the bar is closing down and they’re kicking everyone out, Holly has shouted that phrase no less than six times. Tomorrow is going to suck, plain and simple. I can barely see right now for all the alcohol swimming in my veins. Holly is bouncing off the walls from all the sugar, and Colin is just as cool and collected as he was when we first arrived.

  “You guys need me to call you a cab?” the bartender asks.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Colin responds. “It’s okay to leave our cars in the parking lot?”

  “Yep, no problem.”

  I vaguely hear the bartender as he orders the car for us. I’m in a daze. A daze that has me teetering between wanting to fall asleep and wanting to hurl all over the sleek, mahogany bar. I turn to my left where Holly and Colin are deep in conversation. I’ll be really surprised if they don’t end up having breakfast together tomorrow morning. Holly is practically on top of him, laughing at every word that comes out of his mouth. Colin is smiling at her, clearly loving the attention.

  God. Men are so simple.

  “Car’s on its way.” The bartender puts the bill on the bar and I slip my credit card in without giving it a second thought.

  “Hang on a sec!” Colin has pushed Holly out of the way and is fishing his own credit card out of his wallet. “This is on me.”

  “It’s all right,” I say as I hand the leather case back to the bartender. “I’ve got it.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t.” Colin looks a little perturbed.

  My filter is gone, thanks to the ten or so drinks I’ve had, and I say, “What? You feel emasculated because a woman’s picking up the tab?”

  There’s a flicker of confusion—or maybe hurt—or perhaps just shock in his eyes, but I’m too drunk to care. And I’m far too annoyed with his and Holly’s flirtatious behavior to be polite anymore. If he wants to make an impression on her, he can take her home for all I care.

  “Candy, that was totally unnecessary,” Holly whispers in my ear. “He just wanted to take us out.”

  I roll my eyes. God, I’m exhausted. “Fine,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ll let him pick up the tab next time.”

  We stumble our way out of the bar. The cab is waiting by the curb, and the three of us pile into the back seat. Colin is in the middle with Holly and I flanking him on either side. I try to block out the sound of their flirting and giggling. Please don’t kiss her, please don’t kiss her.

  It would appear that by virtue of me praying for them not to kiss, they’ve decided to kiss. Damn it.

  “23 Fern,” the cab driver calls out as we pull up in front of my parent’s house. Thank God.

  “Well, goodnight,” I say to Colin. “We’ll see you…soon, I guess.”

  “Um, actually, Candy,” Holly says, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take someone of Madame Antoinette’s advanced psychic skill to realize what she’s about to say. “Colin and I are going to go grab coffee at Denny’s.”

  I can’t help but feel a little left out. I mean, I don’t want to go with them, but I’m a little hurt that they didn’t even ask me. Still, I don’t want to seem childish, so I try to play it off.

  “Oh, right. Sure! Well, have fun you two!” I give them a wink and then slam the door.

  To say I have mixed emotions is the understatement of the century. And I’m pretty sure the alcohol is making them that much worse. Maybe tomorrow, in the light of day, I’ll feel better about all of this.

  Probably not, though. Am I really going to give up my entire life—my career I’ve worked so hard for—to watch my sister suck face with a guy that I have a crush on while I do a job I’m in no way qualified for?

  Screw this guilt! Screw the change and my parents and Madame Antoinette, whose words are still ringing in my head. I’m a grown-up, and they can’t tell me what to do. I’m going back to New York first thing in the morning.

  Five

  Note to self: Light of day is never, ever good after a night of binge drinking.

  My eyes are sealed shut, but I can see the sliver of sun peeking through the curtains of the living room on my eyelids, and it’s all I can do not to scream out in pain. I try to roll over in hopes of evading the sliver, and a coil spring from my parents’ ancient pull-out jabs me in the ribs. The motion from trying to roll has brought on a wave of nausea. Oh, God. What was I thinking?

  Worst of all, I realize that I’m alone on the pull-out. If Holly had come home last night, we would have been sharing the bed. Obviously, she shared Colin’s bed instead. If I could, I would shake my head with disappointment. This was not a good way for any of us to start off our working relationships.

  I vaguely remember saying something nasty to Colin. Great. The idea of having to apologize is making me sicker than the alcohol. At least I won’t have to do it today. Today I get to go home. That thought makes me happy and I allow myself to nestle back under the covers for a little more sleep before I have to make the commute.

  “Rise and shine, cupcake!” comes my mom’s cheery voice.

  No. No, no, no, no, no. Why is she doing this? It can only be like seven in the morning. Seven thirty tops. Doesn’t she know I was out drinking until three a.m.? I’m having flashbacks to high school when I had to pretend I’d gotten a full night’s sleep and that I wasn’t about to puke all over the breakfast table after drinking parties at my friends’ homes—the friends who had the cool parents who collected our keys and then left us to our own devices in the finished basement. Those were the days.

  My mom throws open the curtains, letting the sunlight flood into the room. I recoil as if I’m a vampire. “Come on, honey! We have a lot of work to do.”

  Work? “Mom, it’s Sunday. Aren’t we supposed to rest today? You know, keep the Sabbath holy.” Never mind none of us has a religious bone in our bodies, but I’ll do anything to get another hour of sleep.

  Mom ignores me and says, “Cupcakes don’t bake themselves, Candy. I have a lot to teach you in a short amount of time. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

  She has got to be kidding. “Mom, no,” I say, coming to my elbows. She’s flitting around the room, picking up my clothes and folding them into a neat little pile. I must have been really drunk to toss my Betsey Johnson so carelessly to the floor. “I’m taking the ten-thirty train back to New York.”

  She stops and looks at me. “Why?”

  “Why?” Has she lost her mind? “Because I have a life there.”

  “But you said you were doing this. Your life is here now.”

  I put my hands to my forehead and rub my temples as I come to a seated position on the pull-out. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m going back to New York.”

  “You can’t say no,” Mom insists.

  Silence. I know I already said yes, and I feel horrible about that, but it doesn’t feel right. And having my mother tell me that I can’t say no makes it feel even worse. I don’t want this. I don’t want to bake, I don’t want to live in Connecticut. The only thing that’s holding me back is that I don’t want to let my family down, but that’s no way to live life. I have to do what’s best for me, for my life. They’ll just have to figure something out.

  “Yeah, you’ve said as much,” I finally reply. “But you haven’t told me why. You haven’t even told me about the change. You want me to give up everything but you won’t tell me for what.”

  “For the bakery, Candy.”

  “I’m saying no, Mom.” She stares at me, blinking as if she’s just been slapped. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this. It’s not me, and it’s not what I want for my life. I already have what I want and it’s in New York.”

  More silence. God, I wish she would say something. Anything! I would rather she yell and scream at me than just stand there looking like
a wounded pup.

  When she finally does speak, she says, “I better put some coffee on for your father.”

  I feel like crap as she retreats up the stairs, but at the same time, I feel liberated. I’ve made a final decision—the one I know is right for me. I just have to feel good about that.

  I take a shower, get dressed and throw my stuff into my Louis. It’s still early yet to head for the train, but I don’t really want to be here when my parents re-emerge from the kitchen. Or when Holly comes back from her night with Colin. I just want to be alone and try to refocus on my life and my job. Tomorrow’s Monday, and I need to be ready to hit the ground running now that I’ve had my “getting familiar” week.

  I call a cab and then step out to the porch to wait. It’s an incredible summer morning. There’s a cool breeze and the air smells of dew-covered grass. I have a fleeting moment of regret, which I ruthlessly shove to the back of my mind.

  “Good morning, Pumpkin.” Dad pushes through the screen door and joins me on the porch. “You weren’t going to leave without saying good-bye, were you?”

  Guilt, guilt, guilt. I’m going to suffocate from the stuff. “Um, no,” I lie. “I was just getting a little fresh air. I was going to come in in just a minute.”

  That’s when I hear the crunch of tires on gravel. Crap. My cab is about to pull up and prove that I’m a cowardly liar. I try to pretend I don’t hear it behind me. Dad is looking over my shoulder and a smile comes to his face. Why would he smile at the fact that I’m taking a cab to the train station instead of letting him drive me?

  “I guess your sister and Colin had a late night?” he says, and I whirl around to see Colin driving Holly’s Mercedes up the driveway.

  Perfect. Just what I want—to have to face everyone this morning. I was really hoping I could get out of here and let Mom explain everything. It seems she hasn’t even told Dad yet. None of this is helping my raging hangover.

  “Good morning!” Holly yells as she slips out of the passenger seat. She reaches back in and grabs something from the rear before emerging again. “We brought donuts!”