Hello Dolly
A Montana Matchmakers Novella
Reina M. Williams
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, establishments, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and the work of the author’s imagination.
Copyright © 2020 Reina M. Williams
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The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Dolly Parton/Imagination Library, Shirley Temple
First Digital Edition/ July 2020
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue | The Matchmakers Two—Leave Everything to Me
Chapter One | Wake Up, Sunshine
Chapter Two | It Takes A Woman
Chapter Three | The Sweet Things
Chapter Four | In the Evening Air
Chapter Five | Take Me By the Hand
Chapter Six | Hold Onto Her Tight
Chapter Seven | Wish You Were Closer
Chapter Eight | Gonna Carry On
Chapter Nine | Before the Parade Passes
Chapter Ten | Carry It Off
Chapter Eleven | Bridge That Gap
Chapter Twelve | Favorite Songs
Chapter Thirteen | Stayin’
Chapter Fourteen | Never Go Away
Chapter Fifteen | The Silence of His Eyes
Chapter Sixteen | Good Old Days
Chapter Seventeen | Thank My Lucky Star
Chapter Eighteen | Glances
Chapter Nineteen | Find Me
Chapter Twenty | Where You Belong
Epilogue | Wow, Wow, Wow
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue
The Matchmakers Two—Leave Everything to Me
Betty Davis peeked out the curtain of the back room at Hank’s Bar. Male voices rose and galloped in, young Cutler’s bachelor party getting going.
“Another one about to be happily married,” June Gallagher said from her spot at the round table. She sipped the neat whiskey she drank each meeting, a nod to her late husband, the first owner of Hank’s, formerly Hank’s Bar and Grill.
Betty and June were missing their usual companions tonight, but their monthly meeting continued despite it being just the two of them.
“We’ve made some good matches.” Betty patted her greying crop of soft curls and joined her friend, knocking back the last of her Shirley Temple, then stopping to fish out the third cherry. That sweet bartender, Junior, made a point of giving her extra cherries.
“Merry Matchmakers is going strong,” June declared. And it was true. They’d gone over their books and success rate, and their online matchmaking/dating and relationship coaching business was adding nicely to their respective nest eggs. Of course, she and June were no spring chickens, so it was more like gathering eggs for that omelet they’d need to eat for supper.
“And Montana Matchmakers,” Betty said, using the name Cutler had given them for their secret in-person services.
Not that she and June had had much to do with Cutler’s engagement to that nice Nora Delgado. Just some well-timed nudging was all the boy needed to get him back into the arms of his beloved. Just as all it had taken with his brothers Adam and Dean was to get them back into town. Their other brother Brandon had taken a bit more pushing, but he’d found his love too, just like his brothers. Those seven Manning brothers were June’s pet project. Betty had one of her own.
“I have an idea.” Betty dealt the cards for their usual post-meeting game of cribbage. “You know young Luke?” He’d been out there at the bar, nursing his beer, looking mournful. It was enough to bring tears to an old woman’s seen-it-all eyes.
“Oh, yes. Your gruff neighbor with the hidden charm.”
“And kind, too. Isn’t your niece moving to town soon?”
“Dolly? Yes, but they wouldn’t suit.” June placed two cards in the crib. Then she turned up the card, a queen of hearts.
Betty smiled. She had a twelve run now. “Why not?” She knew Dolly’s kind heart from her summers here with her aunt when she was a girl.
“Well...” June played another card. She was off her game.
“From hello, those two will hit it off, you’ll see.”
June humphed and counted her hand, only two points. Betty clucked her tongue as she set down her winning hand.
“She’ll find where she belongs,” June said.
Leave everything to me, Betty thought with a nod. For Betty Davis was convinced that where Dolly Gallagher belonged was here in Loving, with Betty’s good neighbor, Luke Levi.
Chapter One
Wake Up, Sunshine
Luke groaned at the continued knocking on his door. Rolling over, he cursed the number of drinks he’d had at Hank’s Bar the night before. He was usually more disciplined than that, and limited himself to one beer on occasion, but this had been an occasion—his friend Cutler Manning’s bachelor party. It was Cutler who had first hired him as a ranch hand when Luke had rolled into Montana several years back, and who had encouraged him to move to Loving when Luke grew tired of ranch life. Luke usually moved on every few years, but he’d been here in Loving longer than anywhere else in his adult life.
“What is it?” Luke called, but it came out a croak. Sitting up, he grabbed his head, which seemed to somehow be echoing the jackhammer he used to operate when he’d worked on road crews.
“It’s me, you old troublemaker,” a female voice called back. Mrs. Davis. Of course. It was Sunday morning, time for their usual brunch before he drove her to church.
He shook his head. It was rich, Mrs. Davis calling him old. She was seventy-five if she was a day, old enough to be his mother. Though his mom, if she’d still been alive, would’ve only been fifty-seven. She’d had him right out of high school, when she and his dad had been young, in love, and stupid enough to think that meant anything.
Somehow, he pulled himself out of bed. His mouth tasted worse than the dirt he’d been pushed in one too many times growing up. Sandy California dirt.
He tried to smooth his rumpled clothes, but there was no help for it. He’d need a long shower and some clean clothes to obliterate last night, among other things.
Padding to the kitchen, where his neighbor was banging a pan way too loudly onto the stove, he stretched.
“Wake up, sunshine,” she shouted.
“I’m right here.”
She gave a little start, then waved a hand at him. He kissed her pale cheek. Her signature lilac scent quelled the sick rising in his throat.
“Sit you down and we’ll have some breakfast.”
This was their Sunday morning routine. She came over, made them breakfast, and he drove her to church. Her greying hairdo didn’t move as she whirled back and forth between the large bag of food she’d brought over, the counters, stove, and the coffee maker. She plunked down a steaming cup in front of him.
He wrapped his hands around the mug, its warmth taking the chill off. It was late summer, but the cold was already setting in some nights.
Soon the roasted coffee scent was joined by the savory smells of bacon, veggie-egg scramble, biscuits, and M
rs. Davis’s homemade tomato chutney.
“You spoil me,” he said, as usual.
As usual, she waved off his comment. Setting two full plates on the table, she sat across from him.
“Cutler’s party last night?” she said by way of prying.
He shrugged. She’d hear all about it soon enough, if she hadn’t already, not that there was much to tell.
“You’re not going to meet some nice woman at Hank’s.”
“There aren’t any nice single women here in town. Except you, of course.”
“Ha, you charmer. You’re too young for me. And you know I’m seeing Kenny besides.” Only Mrs. Davis could get away with calling Kenneth Taft “Kenny.” He was the long-time mayor, and owned nearly half the town besides. All the widows in Loving were green over him and Mrs. Davis. “You just don’t want to meet anyone.”
He didn’t dispute the point, though he’d cooperated with her little matchmaking schemes before, just to keep her happy. All those women she’d set him up with had eventually found their happily ever afters—or moved somewhere else, which could be the same thing, for them, anyway. He didn’t need a happy dream or outcome. He was safe, out of trouble, and had a house and steady work. That was all he needed.
“I meet people.”
She chuckled before tucking into her food. He did the same.
“Listen, now,” she said once the first dig of hunger was filled in.
He sipped his coffee and waited.
“You need to direct traffic in the parking lot today.”
She often corralled him for these little duties. He was one of the few single, youngish men available for what she considered man’s work.
“Sure.”
It would be fine with him to be out in the sunshine that was left this season rather than cooped up in the church. Though when he caught her glancing at him with a satisfied smirk, he scratched at his stubbly chin. He knew that look. She was up to something. Something called trouble.
DOLLY CRANED HER NECK to try and see past the truck in front of her. Who’d have thought there’d be a mini traffic jam just to get into a church parking lot, here in this tiny Montana town. Maybe she should’ve stayed at her aunt’s place instead of venturing out, but she’d been lonely, as her aunt was out on wedding business. Aunt June often volunteered for wedding planner duties, so she told Dolly in her chatty letters. She and Aunt June preferred snail mail, but now they could talk in person.
She hummed a few lines from a favorite song. She seemed to be the last car waiting. Finally, the truck moved. A medium-build white man with brown hair waved her forward, then stopped her.
He leaned down to meet her gaze. Wow. He had some blue eyes: intense, penetrating blue. “Hey there. Lot’s pretty full. You’ll need to park in the dirt lot.”
She worried at her lip and looked away. No need to stare at the man, however arresting his eyes, and solid frame, were.
“Maybe I’ll just turn around and find a place on the street. Priuses don’t do well in the dirt.” And hers needed some fixing. It’d been dashed around the backroads on the way here, and something seemed to be wrong. But, being a Sunday, she couldn’t do anything about that. Maybe she should’ve walked from Aunt June’s. It just would’ve been a trek in her wedge sandals. She needed some new footwear. Hers screamed “California girl” when Montana winter sped closer.
He quirked a mischievous smile, just long enough to cause her insides to flip-flop. “Sure. How about I wait for you, so you don’t have to walk in alone?” he asked.
She glanced back at him, expecting to see the smile again, but he was almost frowning. Still, she’d be late at this point, so it might be nice not to walk in alone.
“Thanks.” She gave him a smile, checked her rearview mirror, and backed out then drove down the street to the nearest empty spot.
Soon she was side by side with the man of the deep blue eyes, walking toward the church door.
“New in town?” he asked.
“Yes, visiting my aunt, June Gallagher.”
“She’s a firecracker. You must be Dolly, then.” He gave her a quick appraisal.
For some reason, she blushed. At almost forty, she was really too old for blushes and crushes. Not that she was getting one. No siree, as Aunt June said.
“That’s me. Dolly Gallagher.”
“Unusual name.”
“Mom loved Dolly Parton.” So did she, but unfortunately she couldn’t sing like her. The only thing they had a bit in common was their petite curviness, though she was less so than Ms. Parton. That and books. Yes, she loved books, and wished every child could know the joy of reading and discovering new worlds through the pages, just like Ms. Parton made possible for so many with her Imagination Library.
He made a non-committal noise. From inside, the swell of music greeted them. He ushered her into the packed, small space. It was an old church, beamed and cobbled together through the years, but it had a certain charm unique, for her anyway, of such antique buildings. And there was something about the history here in the West that appealed to her. Though it was also fraught with tragedy that needed to be acknowledged. She bowed her head in prayer.
When she lifted her gaze again, the man who’d escorted her in had disappeared.
She focused on the service, and waking up to her new surroundings, and her new life.
Chapter Two
It Takes A Woman
“What are we doing here, Mrs. D?” Luke asked his neighbor. She’d urged him on a stroll after church, ending up over on Riverwalk, at that deteriorating, empty old storefront across from the new bakery, Las Tres Hermanas. “Shouldn’t we be over there?” He pointed to the bakery, the scent of fresh cuernitos and strong coffee drawing his steps into the street.
She pulled him back with her wiry strong grip. “We can get your favorite treat later.”
“They close at three on Sundays.”
“That’s hours away.”
“The cuernitos sell out.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve lived here for years without them.”
“Exactly. I loved getting those at the bakery near my house growing up. Why should I go without any longer now that they’ve got them?” Besides, the three women—Maya and her cousins Nora and Ana—who ran the bakery were cute and kind, which brightened his days. They wouldn’t be there today, seeing as Nora was getting married to his friend Cutler in a few hours over at the Catholic Church across the river, but there’d be one of the college kids home for summer there helping out.
“I suppose time is short today, though we’re pretty wedding-ready.” Mrs. D did a twirl then waved her hand at the storefront. The windows needed a good clean, and the woodwork a fresh-up. But it had solid bones, this place, he could tell.
That Prius he’d directed earlier pulled to a stop in front of the store, and Dolly hopped out. Her light-brown hair caught the bright summer sun, her smile and curious expression radiant, and her curves caused him to have a few Sunday-inappropriate thoughts that he pushed away. It took a certain kind of woman to spark those thoughts and feelings in him, and she was one. Which was why he’d stepped away from her at the church as quickly as possible. He liked to stay detached, and with a woman like Dolly Gallagher, that seemed unlikely. He liked his life the way it was.
Dolly’s smile continued, and she focused on Mrs. D, pulling her in for a hug. He stepped back.
“Mrs. Davis! So good to see you again!” Dolly glanced around the near-empty street.
A few people were strolling up, probably coming from church to get a treat to have with their dinner, or tourists shopping at Irene Molloy’s shop down the block.
“You too. Why wasn’t June at church?”
“Lots to do for the wedding later,” Dolly said. She fished in her purse for something. Her hands, lightly tanned and delicate, caused some protective urge in him that made him walk toward the bakery.
“Yes, of course. And this is yours now, I hear?” Mrs. Davis pointed to the old bu
ilding.
He stopped. Dolly Gallagher owned this fixer-upper? She was staying here in Loving? He’d thought she’d said she was just visiting her aunt.
“How did you... Oh, right, the small-town network.” Dolly’s eyes sparkled with mirth. Why did she have to be so danged pretty and cheerful, with bouncy brown hair, luscious curves, and a devastating smile? Kryptonite he stayed away from as a rule.
“A bookshop, I hear?” Mrs. Davis continued the chit-chat.
A scoffing noise emanated from him along with the thought that a bookshop would never make it in a tiny town like this. But he hadn’t meant to make any indication out loud. Dolly’s expression clouded, and a tornado whirled in his gut. She was trouble, that she could change his inner weather so quickly.
Before he could open his mouth or get across the street, Mrs. D grasped his arm again and tried to pull him closer.
“You’ll need help getting it up to code. Luke’s just the man for the job.”
“Oh,” Dolly said. “Well, it sounds like he doesn’t think much of a bookshop. Besides, I was going to do a lot myself, and then get bids from local companies.”
“What companies?” he asked.
Dolly’s eyes dimmed. “I...”
Mrs. Davis let go of his arm. He was on the outside now, and he deserved the inner smackdown he gave himself. Then again, Dolly was letting herself in for a big disappointment, and it seemed she hadn’t even bothered to look into the realities of starting a business here. But it wasn’t like he’d researched jobs before moving here. He’d just stopped, liked what he saw, and stayed, first at Manning Ranch, and then here in Loving.
“Luke’s the one, Dolly, hon. He’s started up his own business, and you’d be perfect. I mean, this shop would be the perfect project.”
He looked to his neighbor. That slip—that Dolly would be perfect, for him, made his defenses slam up. Mrs. Davis was matchmaking, dang it, and there was no way he was having it, not with Dolly. He could tolerate Mrs. D’s little schemes because they’d always been harmless. But this was different. This could open him, and maybe even Dolly, up to a world of hurt.
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