The Merry Matchmaker, page 2
“I’m surprised you could leave today,” Barbara greeted Frankie, as if Frankie had abandoned her shop. “Business must not have been that good.”
You wish, Barbara. The Holiday Happiness ship had sailed along just fine for a short while without its captain. “Business has been fine,” Frankie said. “And I have a great staff to handle things if I have to step away. I’m surprised you’re out and about. Nobody at your shop today?” she fired back.
“We’ve been busy,” Barbara said with a lift of her chin.
Probably not as busy as Frankie’s shop. Location, location, location. He-he.
“I just stopped in to tell you that we now have Dickens Carolers lined up to stroll the sidewalks and sing during the Santa Walk.”
And gloat over her latest accomplishment as chairman of the committee.
“That’s a great idea,” Frankie said, and meant it. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Barbara gave her a superior smile. “I thought so. The committee has some other ideas...for a few changes. But I won’t bore you with that now. You’re probably ready to get back to work.” She took in Frankie’s outfit. “Or maybe not.”
Frankie was not a match with her daughter and Elinor, who were wearing their red Holiday Happiness aprons and Santa hats.
“Oh, I am. Just had to step away. But not for long. We’re always busy here. It’s such a good location,” Frankie couldn’t resist adding.
Barbara frowned, deepening the lines on both sides of her mouth. She ran a hand along the side of her sleek black hair, smoothing it out. As if so much as one strand would dare get out of line.
“I need to get back to work, myself. We’re always busy, too.” Barbara changed gears, shifting to a smile for Natalie. “Natalie, my salesclerk tells me you’re contributing your fabulous Christmas bonbons to the teacher appreciation lunch. That is so nice of you.”
“Just doing my part,” Natalie said humbly.
“I know it’s appreciated.”
“Thank you. And I hope your granddaughter enjoys the Advent calendar,” Natalie said.
“It’s important to support our local businesses,” said Barbara.
This was said for Frankie’s benefit, of course. “Someday I’m going to learn to knit,” she promised.
Now, why had she said that? The crafting gene had skipped a generation in her family, and she wasn’t any better at creating confections like her daughter or crocheting like her mother than she was at wallpapering. Anyway, Mom spent a small fortune at Some Kind of Yarn, and that should be enough business to give the entire family brownie points.
Barbara merely rolled her eyes and made for the door.
The other customer, who had been following the exchange, took her bagged ornament and asked, “What’s the Santa Walk? We’re new in town.”
“It’s our yearly holiday festival,” said Natalie. “All the stores participate and offer bargains and door prize drawings, and there’s a parade with Santa. Then, later at night, there’s a Santa pub crawl where the men dress up like Santa and the women like elves or Mrs. Claus.”
“Or Santa,” put in Frankie, thinking of what a fun Santa Cindy Carlson had turned herself into, wearing long red underwear and a long shirt that said Off Duty, Buy Me a Drink.
“We’ll have to check it out,” said the woman. “And your candy sounds wonderful,” she told Natalie.
“It is,” said Frankie. “She’ll be making another batch soon, so be sure to check back.”
“Maybe,” added Natalie.
“I will,” said the woman.
Frankie turned to Natalie as the woman went out the door. “See? We could sell twice as much of your candy.”
“If I had twice as much time,” Natalie said. “But I don’t. Gotta go, Mom.” And she took off her apron, ending a discussion that they’d had on more than one occasion. “Jonathan and Warner are back from his mom’s, and I need to get home.”
“Okay, fine,” Frankie said, sounding mildly grumpy. “Thanks for putting in the extra hours,” she added, opting to lose the grumpy mom tone once Natalie had donned her coat and was headed for the door. “Kiss my boy for me.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow at Gram Gram’s,” Natalie said, then left.
Frankie sighed. Another business pep talk aborted. Why on earth her daughter balked at taking Frankie’s advice and turning her candy-making hobby into something lucrative was a mystery to Frankie. Natalie’s bonbons were wonderful, with fillings ranging from nutmeg to peppermint mocha, and always decorated with tiny royal icing fir trees or candy canes. Come Easter, they would turn into eggs.
“Why are some people so blind to what’s good for them?” Frankie muttered. She walked around to the other side of the counter to dig out a small red gift bag for Viola’s Handy’s Hardware card. “I swear, nobody listens to me.”
“Natalie?” Elinor interpreted.
“Yes. I know she’s got a six-year-old, and she’s working here. But still, this isn’t really where her heart lies. She should be developing her gift. People can be so stubborn.”
“People?”
Frankie couldn’t help but think of Mitch, who never took her advice and was at that very moment flirting with a predator in a pink coat. Frankie had been able to tell instantly that woman was wrong for him.
“Take Mitch for example. He should be dating. He’s such a gem.”
“And so handsome. I’ll be forever grateful to him for coming over on Thanksgiving and helping me when that pipe broke and flooded my kitchen.”
“Have Shop-Vac, will travel,” joked Frankie. “Seriously, a man like Mitch single? It’s wrong.”
“Maybe some people are meant to be single,” Elinor said wistfully.
Elinor had moved to Carol a year earlier and was still finding her feet. They hadn’t talked a lot about her past. All Frankie knew was that she was single, that she loved to read and that the local library and the bookstore were her favorite haunts. She tended to be on the shy side, and she didn’t dress to impress. With her fair skin and quiet demeanor, she was the human equivalent of...white paint. Present but not noticed. Frankie had assumed she wasn’t really looking for anyone. Maybe she’d assumed wrong.
“I bet there’s a perfect man for you somewhere right here in Carol,” Frankie said.
“Do you think so?” Elinor didn’t sound convinced.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Frankie promised.
“Keep your eyes peeled for what?” asked her mother, Adele, who’d just come up from the back of the shop.
Adele worked in the shop, partly to be supportive of her daughter and partly because she liked being at the center of things. Which, thanks to their steady flow of customers, was exactly where Holiday Happiness put her. With her white hair and soft-pillow figure, Adele looked like the quintessential grandmother, all sweet and cozy...until she opened her mouth.
“For a perfect man for Elinor,” Frankie replied.
Adele gave a bark. “There is no such thing as a perfect man. Not even your father, God rest his irritating soul.”
“Mine was close,” Frankie said, and Adele lost her cheeky smile and came over to hug her.
“Yes, he was.” Happily, for Frankie, Adele didn’t add, And he’d be the first one to tell you not to get stuck in the past.
They’d had this conversation more than once. “I’m not stuck, and I don’t mind being alone,” Frankie always said. Only at night when she went to bed. Or when she and Viola watched a great rom-com. Or when she was scrolling on her phone and saw a recipe Ike would have loved.
“You don’t need to be meddling in other people’s lives,” Adele said. “Let Elinor handle her own love life. I’m sure she’s perfectly capable. Aren’t you, Elinor?”
Elinor looked dubious, but she said, “Yes.”
“There you have it,” said Adele. “And now, I’m going home to watch the end of Blue Bloods. Wish that show had gone longer. Tom Selleck is hot.” She began to fan her face. “Every time I see that man, I—”
Frankie held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear. Come on, Elinor, let’s get out of here. I have a pizza to pick up and a present to deliver.”
As she followed her mother and Elinor out the door, she saw Miss Pink Coat leaving the hardware store. The woman carried a bunch of paint chips in her hand and was frowning. It looked like Mitch would not be going over to help her pick out paint for her bedroom. Lucky escape for Mitch.
She couldn’t resist texting him. No hot paint date?
Ha ha, came the reply.
Cheer up. Maybe Santa will bring you a cute elf for Christmas.
Elves are creepy.
What a thing to say!
I like Mrs. Claus better, he texted. Think she’ll ever be interested?
Only if you leave her a plate of chocolate.
I’d buy her a sleighful.
She sent him a laughing emoji, but then got to thinking. Was that crack about Mrs. Claus a subtle cry for help in spite of his insistence that he didn’t need any? Could she find a Mrs. Claus for Mitch? He hadn’t done well finding someone on his own. Maybe she should give him a helping hand. Maybe she would.
2
“I doubt Mitch is looking for a Mrs. Claus,” Viola said as she helped herself to another slice of pizza. The wallpaper fail had been fixed, and Happiness for Beginners, one of their favorite rom-coms, was playing on Viola’s TV in the background as they sat in the living room. At the moment, happiness for Mitch was taking top priority.
“You saw the text,” Frankie said. “It’s obvious he wants to be with someone. But he needs help. And protection. There are some skanky women out there.”
“Men like skanky,” Viola said, and took a bite of her pizza.
“Men like whiskey, also, but too much isn’t good for them. Seriously, Vi, I think I can help him.”
Viola laughed. “Just like you did when you introduced him to Laura Harding?”
Frankie waved away the Ghost of Mismatches Past. “That was last year.”
“I bet it feels like yesterday to him. Then there was Delilah Norman.”
“She was a mistake,” Frankie admitted. “I had no idea she was so...needy.”
“Needy? There’s an understatement. The woman was practically a stalker.”
“I introduced him to other women.”
“Whom you then talked him out of dating,” pointed out Viola. “Let’s face it, you’ll never find anyone for him who passes the Frankie test.”
“I will,” Frankie insisted. “But this needs to be done scientifically.”
“Scientifically? You gonna use AI?”
“No, HI. Human intelligence, online dating.”
“Oh, yeah, he won’t find any skanks there,” Viola said with an eye roll.
“Lots of people find their perfect match online.”
“Not if you’re involved,” Viola teased.
Frankie ignored the crack. “This is a great time of year to get to know people. All that Christmas cheer, just waiting to be shared.” She began thumbing the keys on her phone. “Hey, have you heard of this site?”
Viola leaned across the couch and looked over her shoulder. “Best for You,” she read. “Hmm.” She picked up her own phone and did some quick research. “Best for You is listed in the top ten dating sites. It’s geared for people fifty and older.”
“That’s just what we want,” said Frankie. “There’s bound to be someone there who’ll be a match.”
“As long as you find someone who can keep up with Mr. Fitness,” said Viola. “Call him and see what he thinks.”
“I’m not going to call him. He’ll balk. He’s such a chicken.”
“You’re just going to sign him up?”
“Sure. I know everything I need to know to get him set up on here.” Frankie scrolled through the pictures on her phone until she found one she’d taken at the chamber of commerce Fourth of July picnic. He was perched on the edge of a picnic table and wore a gray T-shirt that showed off his well-formed pecs along with Levi’s encasing muscular thighs. Flip-flops on his feet. He had a beer bottle raised in a toast. Here’s looking at you, kid. It was what he’d said to her right before she took the photo.
She showed it to Viola. “If you were single, would you date this man?”
“I don’t do white,” cracked Viola. “But yeah, that picture sells him. It oughta sell him to you.”
Frankie gave a snort.
“Seriously, Frankie, why are you trying to give Mitch to someone else when you and he would be great together?”
“Because I don’t need to be with someone.” She didn’t. She couldn’t be.
“Ike wouldn’t want you to give up on love,” Viola said softly.
“I know. And I have plenty of love in my life. I’ve got Mom, I’ve got Stef...”
“Who will probably get married again and move away.”
“She wouldn’t leave her job at the paper. But if she did, I’d go visit her. And I have Natalie.”
“Who has a life.”
“Which I’m part of. And little Warner.”
“Grandsons grow up and get girlfriends and ignore you.”
“Who told you that?”
“Terrill’s grandma.”
“I’ll still have you. You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
“No.”
“And we’re still going to live in the same nursing home when we’re old, right?”
“Probably. It’s either that or end up on the ice floe my daughter’s threatening to put me on.”
“So, there you have it. Who needs a man?”
“You do.”
“Not happening,” Frankie said, and went back to the dating site. “Ha! Educated singles only. So, they’re snobs.”
“Looking for the cream of the crop.”
“Mitch qualifies as that. He’s got an MBA,” Frankie said, and checked Man seeking woman, then got busy setting up his profile. It was easy to fill in interests—football, hiking, kayaking, nature. Likes to go glamping, she added.
“He does?” asked Viola.
“He does now,” Frankie said, and Viola giggled.
I’m a small-town guy with big-city tastes and hometown values, Frankie typed.
“What the heck does that mean?” Viola demanded.
“It means he has good values, but he has sophisticated tastes.”
“Unclear,” Viola said.
“Fine. I’ll add this. ‘Love my country, serve my community. Like playing Santa every year,’” Frankie said as she typed.
“That’s better. You should have him ask a question. It’ll make him more approachable.”
What’s your favorite holiday? Frankie typed. “Bonus points if she says Christmas.”
“Not bad,” Viola approved.
Frankie added more pertinent information and Mitch’s picture. Okay, that was it. He was good to go.
She hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe Mitch won’t appreciate it.”
“Do ya think?”
“But he will if I bring him the perfect woman.” Frankie gnawed on her lip, considering. “I do want him to be happy, and he obviously needs help getting there.”
Viola washed her last bite of pizza down with her cola. “Most of us do, I guess. Just keep in mind, if you find him someone, it’s going to change your relationship.”
“Don’t be silly,” Frankie scoffed, then thought of the man-eater in the pink coat. Candidates needed to be screened.
So, online dating it was. She finished the process. “Okay, we’re official. Let’s see what kind of Mrs. Claus we find.”
* * *
Frankie decided not to share about Operation Match Mitch when she joined her family at Adele’s house for their usual late afternoon meal after the shop closed. It would only inspire her mother to give her a lecture about meddling. And this wasn’t meddling. It was helping.
She also decided not to tell Mitch when they met up later that evening to watch their favorite reality TV police show. She’d checked earlier, and he’d already attracted plenty of interest. Hardly surprising, considering how good-looking he was.
Plus, she’d made him sound perfect. Saint Mitch. He could be stubborn. What man couldn’t? Both his office at the store and his home tended toward clutter, but a good woman could help him organize that.
“My house next week,” he offered after the show had ended.
“You going to have eggnog?”
“Of course.”
“Then your house next week.”
Although by the next week he could be out with someone.
No, not on Sunday night. That was Cop Stop night.
* * *
The shop was closed on Mondays, so Viola came over to Frankie’s cozy two-bedroom cottage for brunch and joined her at the kitchen table to check out Mitch’s prospects.
Babe Number One looked ready for an ugly Christmas sweater contest, wearing a bright green sweater overpopulated with reindeer and felt baby Santas dangling from the bottom like fringe. She was wearing a tiara on her head that said Queen. I love glamping! she declared. Do you cook? Love me a man who cooks. Uh, no.
Babe Number Two did not look even remotely fit enough to keep up with Mitch. I hate football, she confessed. But I love Super Bowl parties. Wait till you taste my Hawaiian sliders and Coca Cola cake! I’m about to join the gym. I could use a coach, by the way.
“Coca Cola cake,” said Viola with a grin.
“Mitch would not have the patience to coach someone into fitness,” said Frankie.
She moved on. One woman had put up a picture of herself and her “three fur babies”—ironically, hairless Sphinx cats, one perched on each shoulder and one in her lap. Do you love cats? she wanted to know.
No. Mitch was a dog man. His German shepherd, Whizzer, had recently crossed the rainbow bridge, and he was already considering taking in a rescue come the new year. Knowing Mitch, it would be a big dog, the kind that would eat all three cats for breakfast.
