Matchmakers, no. 1

by Bernadette Marie

  Mary Alice arranged the small display of treats on the counter.

  “So what brings you into my little store?”

  “I brought Carissa to work.”

  “Carissa? Oh…oh!” Her eyes widened. “Are you and David back together?”

  “Well…”

  “Oh, this is wonderful!” She reached for Sophia and pulled her into another hug across the counter. “He’s missed you.”

  “We’re not together. I’m only home for my grandmother’s birthday.” Her voice was softer, and the smile faded from Mary Alice’s face.

  “Well, I’m glad you stopped in to see us.”

  “So am I.”

  Carissa arrived at the counter with Sophia’s drink.

  “A chocolate, banana, granola, and peanut butter smoothie.” She handed it to Sophia.

  “Thank you.”

  Sophia handed Mary Alice her money, but Mary Alice pushed her hand away. “Oh, no. This is on the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mary Alice walked back around the counter while Carissa helped another customer.

  “You have to come for dinner while you’re in town. Come by and see the house. Meet my family.”

  “I’d like that.” She waited for Carissa’s customer to move from the counter. “What time are you done tonight?”

  “I get off at nine.”

  “Why don’t I just pick you up?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I have nothing better to do. I think I’m going to go home and practice for an hour or so, then I’ll come back to get you.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  She took a sip. “Yep, this is how I like it.”

  “It’s how my dad likes them, too.” Carissa wiggled her eyebrows.

  The cold of the drink slithered down her throat, but the thought of sharing this small bond with David warmed her far more than it should.

  CHAPTER SIX

  David wandered in and out of the shops that lined Maui’s Front Street. The surf crashed in the background, and scooters buzzed up the streets. Tourists from every part of the world jostled him; he’d probably brought some of them to their destination. It was a wonderfully eclectic place.

  He stopped with a crowd out front of a store that sold hand-blown glass. A man in the window blew a bubble of glass into a small ornament.

  Sparkling showcases of miniature musical instruments inside the window drew him into the store.

  Behind the man blowing the glass, music played.

  “Turn it up! Turn it up!” The glassblower’s voice carried through the store with his thick Italian accent. Before finishing the sale she was completing, the woman at the counter accommodated him.

  David listened. It was opera. It was unmistakably the voice of Pablo DiAngelo. A chill ran down his spine. Yes, it was Pablo DiAngelo’s voice, and the cello was Sophia.

  The woman approached him.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  David shifted, startled. “I’m sorry. I was listening to the music.”

  “Pablo DiAngelo.” It was a simple statement. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yes. I’ve met him before. Had dinner with him actually.”

  The woman clasped her hands together. “You’ve met Pablo DiAngelo?”

  “Yes.” He wished he’d been that impressed himself.

  “Carlo! Carlo!” She shouted until the glassblower looked up. “This man knows Pablo DiAngelo!” The sound of shattering glass cut through the store, but she was still smiling.

  The glassblower jumped up from his seat in the window. The beautiful ornament he’d been working on lay at his feet in shards. He kicked the pieces to the side, turned off the fire, and removed his protective glasses.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you drop…”

  “Ah, nothing!” He held his hand out to David. “You’ve really met DiAngelo?” David could only nod. “He is my favorite. He’s amazing! He’s…” The man searched for English words to fulfill his sentence. “Angelic.”

  “How did you get to meet such a man?” the woman asked, smiling and pumping his hand.

  “My fiancée”—the words were out before he could retract them—“is his cellist.”

  “His cellist?” The woman’s brows knit together. “Sophia Burkhalter? You’re engaged to Sophia Burkhalter?”

  “Was. We’re…” He considered for a moment. “Very good friends now.”

  She nodded.

  “Pablo is very in love with her. You can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.”

  The woman couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d stabbed him with one of the shards from the broken ornament. It was painfully clear to him that it wasn’t just about him and Sophia mending their relationship. There was Pablo. And Carissa.

  He felt the energy drain from his body and wished he hadn’t walked so far from his hotel.

  “You say you are close friends?” The man stood studying him.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, she’s at my home in Kansas City right now.”

  “Come. I want you to take to her a piece I made.” The glassblower walked him to a section in the store that displayed the miniature instruments made from glass. He picked up one of the cellos and displayed it in his hand. “Please, you will take this to Sophia Burkhalter. Please tell her that I am Pablo DiAngelo’s biggest fan, and therefore, I am hers too.” He handed the fragile gift to David. The tiny loops of glass must have taken him many hours to create.

  “Sir, I can’t take this.”

  “It’s not for you,” he reminded him. “You give it to her.”

  “But…” The man’s hand rose in front of him, stopping his excuse. “I’ll see that she gets it.”

  “That pleases me. She’ll wrap it for you.” He handed the woman the figure and patted David on the back.

  “Make sure you put your card in there. She’ll want to send you a thank-you note. That’s how she is.”

  “And I will frame it on my wall.” He laughed. “Back to work. I must start that vase over,” he said with a shrug.

  David waited for the woman to finish wrapping up the package. “This will give him such joy.”

  “I know Sophia will appreciate his gift.”

  David left the store, sat at the nearest bench down the street, and held the box in his hand.

  What had made him walk into that store? They knew her. She was someone to them. Someone more than an accompanist to a man with an angelic voice, as the man had pointed out.

  Who was he to think she’d leave all that and love him? She may have claimed not to have left him for Pablo, but with the shopkeeper’s words resonating in his ears, he knew she’d replaced him with Pablo.

  David felt a tightening in his chest, and he raised his palm to it to ease it.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the house.

  “Hello.” Sophia’s voice pierced his heart.

  “Sophie?”

  “David.” Her voice softened.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Where are you?”

  Could her interest be genuine? Would it continue? Could she continue with another man if she knew how he felt? Then again, did he even know how he felt?

  “I’m still in Hawaii. Sophie, I heard you were practicing with Carissa this morning.”

  “I was.” The pitch of her voice rose joyfully.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you? Why?”

  “She admires you. I know that meant a lot to her. You don’t have to do it again…”

  “I’ve already promised her I would. She wants first chair, and I want her to have it.”

  “Well, thank you again.” He touched the box in his lap and thought of her face when he would hand it to her. “So, she’s already at work?”

  “Yes. She’s off at nine. I told her I’d pick her up.”

  “You two are hitting it off?” The sheer thought of it amazed him. Carissa had made it clear t
hat she didn’t like Sophia, and David was sure the feeling had become mutual. But there they were, spending time together voluntarily. It warmed his heart to think about them getting along.

  “We’re trying. We practiced our cellos together and then picked out chicken and salad.”

  “Chicken and salad?”

  “She went with me to the caterer. Then we went shopping for decorations and bought the ladies tiaras.”

  David stood from the bench and walked down the street, with the box in one hand and the cell phone in his other.

  “Tiaras?”

  “Every eighty-four-year-old princess needs one.”

  “I agree. One hundred percent.” She had such a sense of fun. Something he and Carissa had missed out on.

  “We shared some things, and I took her to work.”

  “What did you share?” The pain in his chest had completely eased, soothed by her voice. “You don’t have to tell.”

  “David, the scars on her arms…did she really hurt herself on her bike?”

  David found another bench and sat down.

  “She showed you her scars?” He realized they’d bonded over far more than the cello.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, she crashed on her bike. The school counselor knew her mother had tried to commit suicide by cutting her wrists and put her through a year of hell at school. She was convinced she was lying, and I was covering for her. But, indeed, she wrecked her bike.” The tightening in his chest returned.

  “Well, she taught me a lot today. We were warriors together.” Her voice had changed again. It had lifted.

  “How’s that?”

  “She pulled up her sleeves. I took off my pearls. We were warriors, David. You know, those who have battle scars and live to tell.”

  “Damn, I wish I’d been there for that.” He could only imagine how beautiful Sophia was. Walking with her head held high and sans the trademark scarves and pearls that had returned.

  “It was exhilarating.”

  “I’m proud of you. Both of you.”

  “Thank you. Where do you go next?”

  He would give anything to fly straight home to her arms. If she’d have him.

  “I fly to L.A. and then layover in Seattle before heading back to L.A.”

  “You’ll be in Seattle overnight?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Oh, well, this is really going to sound silly.”

  “What?” He stood from the bench and walked toward the ocean. Toward Sophia.

  “Well, I forgot all about my plants. It was silly of me to have bought them, really. I guess I was just trying to make the place homey. But if you’re that close, would you go and water them and check on things? And you can stay at my place so you won’t have to sleep in a hotel.”

  She laughed, and he pressed the phone closer to his ear.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Well, you’d be laughing too if you’d seen my apartment. You may change your mind and go to a hotel after all. I have no food there. Maybe a bag of Doritos. I only have a bed, and most of my life is still in boxes.”

  “It sounds like the Plaza. But how will I get in?”

  “Oh, well, you know me.”

  “You don’t really keep the key above the door, do you?” He shook his head just thinking about it.

  “No, it’s above the neighbor’s door. No one would look there. Right?”

  “I guess not.” He imagined her sitting at home with the phone in her hand, and a smile came to his lips. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “Great.”

  “Thanks, Sophie, for everything you’re doing there. I miss you,” he said as he hung up the phone. She hadn’t said it back.

  Sophia stood in the hallway with the phone in her hand, the line silent. She pushed the button to disconnect and sat on the stairs.

  I miss you. Oh, God!

  She covered her mouth with her hand and let her body calm from the wave shock that had flooded her. She’d been so surprised he’d said it that she hadn’t even been able to respond.

  David missed her. How could she deny it? She’d missed him for ten years, but there was so much to think about now.

  What about Pablo? He hadn’t called her since she’d left. He’d been more than supportive when she told him she was returning to Kansas City, but he’d promised to call with word of new venues and a tour. If he’d heard good news about playing at the Vatican, he’d have told her the instant he knew. That lead to the question of what was happening to the career that she’d worked so hard for.

  What about her dead plants in her sad apartment in Seattle?

  What about Carissa?

  Sophia ran her fingers through her curls and then down her neck. They brushed against a ridge of scar tissue, and she reached for her collar. Then she pushed it aside. Warriors! Warriors!

  Carissa deserved to be happy after everything that she’d been put through. But would Carissa be happy if Sophia stayed? Or would she be better off if she left, again?

  Did she want to stay?

  Her heart began to pound in her chest.

  Dammit, she’d left for a reason. The man she loved and was going to marry had a child with another woman. Nothing could ever dampen the betrayal of that.

  Millie shuffled into the hallway. She stopped and rested both hands atop her cane.

  “Is everything all right with David?”

  “What?” Sophia snapped her head up. “Oh, yes, he’s fine.”

  “Well, that’s good. Everything all right with you?”

  All Sophia could do was nod.

  “Good. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me tomorrow to the beauty shop. I could use a ride, but I know they could get you in for a trim if you’d like.”

  Sophia touched her hair and wondered if Millie was hinting at her, but realized she was just being polite.

  “I’ll pass on the trim, but I’d love to take you.” She stood and caught sight of her hands. “Do they have a manicurist?”

  “Of course. I don’t go to one of those old-people places where they’ve never heard of such things.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll get a manicure. Pablo would shoot me if he saw my hands. I don’t think I’ve had them taken care of since we finished our last concert.”

  “Wonderful.” Millie moved by her. “It’ll be a nice day out for the two of us. We could have lunch out.”

  “That would be nice.”

  She watched the woman she dearly loved walk toward her bedroom and shut the door.

  Not only had she not kept up the presentation of her hands, but her rigorous schedule of practicing had slipped too. The few hours she’d worked on it in the few days she’d been in Kansas City simply hadn’t been enough.

  She was spending too much time trying to make sense of her feelings for David. He’d be back in a few days, and maybe they could work things out. She wasn’t sure she could get past his lies to a place where she could trust him with her heart, but maybe they could at least be friends.

  She looked at the clock that hung on the wall. She had only two hours before picking up Carissa. She’d better make the time count.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Seattle weather was as depressing as always. David had never seen a day where the sun had shined, but he’d be the first to admit, he usually didn’t spend more than two hours in the state of Washington before turning for home.

  He’d taken a cab to the address Sophia texted him.

  David blinked away raindrops and stared at the dilapidated building. The security door stood wide open. An old woman sat on the stoop in a lawn chair, an umbrella in one hand and a cigarette in another. He stepped in a puddle as he crossed the street, soaking his foot.

  Saddened by the squalor, he didn’t even open his umbrella, but began his journey up the front steps.

  “Who are you looking for?” the old woman asked as though she were the inquisitor for the building.

  “I’m a friend of Sophia’s.”


  “You’re no friend.” The woman looked him over from head to toe.

  “Would you mind if I pass?” He tried to step around her, but she darted her umbrella to block him off the stoop.

  “If you’re a friend of Sophia’s, I suppose you know she’s up there waiting for you?” The woman lifted her eyebrows in question.

  “Because I know Sophia very well, I know she’s home in Kansas City where she belongs. I’ll be staying here tonight without her.”

  “Smart-ass. Why is she in Kansas City?”

  “Her grandmother’s birthday party.” Water began to drip from his hair and onto his face.

  “Okay, big shot. Who are you?”

  “David Kendal.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell open.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No. No problem. Is Sophia all right?” She laid a hand on David’s arm.

  “Of course. She’s fine.”

  The woman nodded and removed her hand. “Okay. Three-oh-three.” She made a V with her fingers and pointed them at him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Don’t hurt her again.” Her words stung him as he passed.

  As he climbed the stairs, he pondered what the crazy woman on the stoop had said. Had Sophia mourned him just as he’d mourned her? Perhaps he should have searched harder for her. Really, how was it that she’d disappeared without a trace for so long and then surfaced among one of the richest, most talented men in the world? Disgust with himself punched into his gut. He’d been as foolish as she had been.

  David reached the third floor and found her door. He stood there a moment. Green doors with peepholes lined the hallway—each one the same. He found 303 and turned around to see another matching door right behind him. He reached up and felt for the key. There it was, just as she said it would be. He slid it into the lock and pushed the door open into Sophia’s world.

  He stepped into the apartment and set his suitcase to his side, resting his hat atop it. For a brief moment he contemplated calling her. Certainly, he had the wrong apartment.

  A picture frame on a table by the ratty couch caught his eye. It was the photo of Sophia and her parents that had been taken only weeks before their death. She’d had it in the home they’d shared.