Strike a Match

by Fiona Riley

  The night after the wedding she had found her mother passed out on the couch in her living room, exhausted from crying herself to sleep while watching old home videos of Abby with her father. She helped her mother to bed and put the movies back on their shelf, wondering how many more times she would find her mother living in the past. Edie had been a little sad after the wedding had ended the night before, but Abby hadn’t understood why until that night. Her mother had been so moved by the passion evident between Samantha and Lucinda, that she was reminded of the love she had lost. It was a low she hadn’t seen her mother reach in a very long time. And it wasn’t a place she wanted to revisit anytime soon.

  She had made up her mind at that moment that once Samantha was back from her honeymoon, she would sign her mother up for Samantha’s service, while quietly taking a break from the matchmaking process herself. Her interaction with Sasha and how quickly she had lost control was enough to make her pump the brakes; she had a lot to figure out before opening herself up to someone again. She didn’t want to be another notch on the belt of someone like Sasha, and yet, embarrassingly, that’s exactly what she had done at the wedding. No, it was time to step back and let someone take a chance at love who was capable of truly finding it. She had to get her mother on track, and she’d worry about herself later.

  *****

  “So, let me get this straight.” Samantha paused after hearing Abby’s request. “You want to abandon your own search for a perfect match in favor of pursuing one for your mother?”

  “Yes.” Abby thought she had made herself abundantly clear and yet Samantha was looking back and forth between her and her mother from the other side of her enormous desk with a look of extreme confusion.

  “Why?” Samantha leaned back and touched the tips of her fingers together. Her skin was more tanned than usual. Abby assumed it was from her honeymoon on the Riviera. She wanted to ask about the trip, but now didn’t seem like the time.

  Abby huffed. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s simple—my mother needs a companion in life. You’re the best person for that job. I’d take it as a compliment. Clearly I trust the process and your magical skills. I don’t lend my mother out to just anyone.”

  “I’m sitting right here, Abigail. And you make it seem like I should be adopting a dog from a shelter for companionship.” The use of air quotes by Edie was not lost on Abby. “I’m perfectly fine on my own—there are lots of women of a certain age that live out their glamorous lives without any need for a man, or a companion, as it were.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ve heard enough.” Samantha stood and smoothed out her skirt before walking to the front of the desk and leaning against it. “There is no reason why both of these things can’t happen at the same time, in tandem. My concern, Abby, is why all of a sudden have you given up on the process?”

  “I’m not giving up—I’m immersing my mother in the process because I believe it’ll work. I’m just taking a break.”

  “Again, I’m sitting right here.” Edie looked amused. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I have a feeling this has something to do with that tall, dark brunette.”

  “Ooh, that sounds promising.” Samantha smiled. “Tell me all the things.”

  “It’s nothing.” Abby addressed Samantha before turning to her mother and repeating the phrase with a little more conviction, “It’s nothing. Not a thing. No big deal. Drop it.”

  Edie let out a dramatic sigh and fanned herself. “That’s not true. It was definitely something. I saw it with my own two eyes—there was flirting and kissing and I dare say groping.”

  “Mom!” Abby thought she might die on the spot.

  “Groping? When did I miss the part about groping?” Samantha questioned in that honey voice that always made Abby spill more than she wanted to. “No one likes to miss the juicy bits, Abby. Who were you groping? And why was your mother a witness?”

  Before Abby could reply, Edie took the floor. “It was at your wedding, I’m sure the whole guest list got an eyeful. She was a waitress there, tall, attractive—”

  “Sasha?” Abby’s head whipped toward Samantha. “You kissed and groped Sasha at my wedding? How did I miss that?”

  Abby was confused as to why Samantha looked so disappointed. “Probably because you were getting married. And it wasn’t as big a deal as my mother is making it out to be.”

  “Yes, it was. You were all dreamy eyed for hours. And you had her lipstick on for the rest of the day.” Edie was positively glowing as she relayed the goings-on to Samantha. Abby felt a little ganged up on.

  “Hey. I thought we were talking about my mother becoming a client here. How did this become a bash session on me?” Abby hated the whine in her voice but she couldn’t stop it either.

  Samantha stood and crossed her arms. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to add Edie as a client and see if we can’t find her a good match and introduce her to the process—you know, get her feet wet a bit.” She moved to the other side of her desk and pulled out a paper. “I’m going to have my admin Sarah organize all the forms I need you to fill out in order to get you into the system. Can you bring this to her and get it started? I’d like to talk to Abby alone.”

  Edie raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Is Andrew here today? I wanted to ask him about the museum exhibition next month. He mentioned wanting to host a mixer there one or two nights.”

  Samantha glanced at the clock. “He had a conference call about twenty minutes ago. Have Sarah interrupt him if he’s still on it.”

  “It’s always a pleasure, darling.” Edie took the paper from Samantha and gave her the standard Edie air kiss good-bye. “We’ll see you next month.”

  “You’ll see me before that.” Samantha winked. “But yes, art exhibition, possible mixer, got it.”

  Abby watched her mother leave and close the door behind her and suddenly her throat felt dry. Why did Samantha want to talk to her alone?

  Samantha’s dark brown eyes looked back at her expectantly. When Abby didn’t say anything, Samantha began, “Abby. What’s going on? Really—spill.”

  Abby sighed. “Nothing. Nothing is going on. That’s the problem. I think I need to get out of my own way and step back. My mother—”

  “Leave your mother out of this. We both know there’s plenty of money between the two of you that one of you doesn’t have to stop being a client for the other to become one. Stop that nonsense right now. Your mother will begin her own path if she so chooses. We’re talking about you right now, and I have to be frank, the reason we haven’t found you a match is because you’re foundationally dishonest with these women.”

  Abby was shocked. Did Samantha just call her a liar? “What are you trying to say?”

  “I think I was perfectly clear with my word choice. You haven’t been successful because you’re keeping too much of yourself a secret. It doesn’t give the women I’ve paired you with the chance to get to know you. They can tell you’re hiding something—that’s why it doesn’t get anywhere.”

  “Not true. Things with Shelly were going really well. I thought we had a real connection,” Abby argued.

  “Oh, you did. The connection was that you’re both stinking filthy rich.” Samantha laughed. “When will you let me put you front and center like I did for Shelly? You’re the big fish here, Abby, and by asking me to hide you into the wallflower background as an anonymous eligible bachelorette, you’re selling yourself short. And misrepresenting yourself in the process. You have no reason to be ashamed of your family name or legacy. This backdoor dating approach isn’t helping you, and you know it.”

  The words stung more than Abby wanted to admit. It had been her idea all along to date incognito. Samantha had resisted it from the start but Abby had been adamant. She wanted to find love with someone through her interactions with them on a candid, genuine basis—her wealth had netted her nothing but trouble in the not-so-distant romantic past. Time and time again, Samantha had tried to reassure her
that her company, her process, helped to thin out the crazies and would match her with someone who would be her emotional and physical ideal, not just someone looking for a sugar mama. And she’d thought she finally found that in Shelly. But something hadn’t quite felt right. She knew it after the first date. There was a spark missing. She just didn’t want to admit it.

  “Listen.” Samantha’s tone was soft, encouraging. “Let me change some things on my end and see what I can come up with for you. We were on the right path with Shelly—that’s clear. I will dedicate my time and focus to finding your mother a match if she agrees to the process. But I am not giving up on you, and I am not taking you out of the rotation. Just let me retool our approach a bit. Fair?”

  Abby didn’t like the compromise Samantha was proposing, but she knew if she was going to get Samantha on board to help keep her mother from crying herself to sleep watching old family movies, she had to meet her halfway. “Deal.”

  “Good.” Samantha walked around to embrace her. “I meant no offense by what I said. On the contrary, I think you’re amazing and beautiful and smart and funny. I don’t want to cloak all your awesome just to separate you from your family name. If you untie my hands, I can do so much more for you. Let me try, unrestricted, to work my magic. Just once. One chance. I can do it, I promise.”

  “One try,” Abby conceded and sank into Samantha’s embrace, hoping she hadn’t just made a deal with the Devil.

  Chapter Eight

  Sasha leaned back in her chair with her feet propped up on the common area table as she tried desperately to stay awake. It had been a long twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse. There had been call after call from the moment she laced up her standard issue uniform boots yesterday morning. She couldn’t remember if she had even managed a shower today—the day and night had blurred together.

  The soreness in her neck increased and she sighed, sliding her feet off the table and unceremoniously dropping them to the floor with a thud. She was in desperate need of a nap and some of her mother’s pork pie, stat. The thought awoke a resting anxiety in her, making her feel much more alert all of a sudden. Her mother. Ugh. What day was it?

  She looked past that snoring Burger buffoon on the couch to the bulletin board across the common room. The calendar was obscured by about a dozen flyers; she couldn’t see it from her vantage point. She stood with a groan. That last medical call at six in the morning involved a lot of heavy lifting to get the patient out of the fourth floor and down to the ambulance. Chair lifts were some of her least favorite rescues. Her shoulders still ached in protest.

  She was careful to walk as quietly as possible past Burger—he had been more annoying than usual, and she was hoping to end her shift without incident. Ever since Casey fired him on the spot after Samantha Monteiro’s wedding for screwing up his coat check job, Burger had been way more enthusiastic and helpful around the firehouse. Like he was trying to get back on Casey’s good graces or something. All that meant was that he was a million times more annoying and underfoot than he used to be. Worst. Probie. Ever.

  Sasha knew why he was so desperate though. Working for Casey outside of the firehouse was fun, profitable, and exciting, in a different way than firefighting. But more than that, it meant working alongside your firefighting brothers and sisters and helped nurture the all-important bond they needed—to trust each other. Firefighting was a dangerous job. You had to know your peers had your back, at all times. But besides all that, Casey’s catering company paid very, very well. It was an easy gig to pick up on your off days at the firehouse, and she had overheard Burger talking about getting a new car, which required extra cash. Cash he was no longer getting on the side since he ruined that lady’s mink coat. Casey was still trying to pay off the repairs.

  Money. That’s what motivated them all at the end of the day, it seemed. And she was no different. As she moved the dog walking flyer and the push-pin littered packet for upcoming training dates to uncover the wall calendar, her fears were confirmed: it was nearly the end of the month. Somehow, no matter how many shifts she worked, how many catering jobs she picked up, how many lunches and dinners she made at home, she was still just barely above water in the money department. And the end of the month meant it was going to be that much harder to see her mother later on today. Pork pie with a side of I can’t pay all your father’s medical bills. Joy. Try as she might to help dig her parents out of debt, she never seemed to be able to get ahead of her father’s worsening health. They were always racing against something, time or debt collectors.

  “Hey, Sasha.” Samantha’s voice jarred her from her impending panic attack.

  “Samantha, hey. What are you doing here?” She smiled and took in Samantha’s tight dress and tall heels. She was carrying something. “Are those cookies?”

  “Nothing gets past you, does it, Sash?” Samantha teased as she cracked the lid of the gourmet cookie tray. “I may have had one or five on the ride over. They’re amazing.”

  “They look it.” Sasha craved the sugar rush and increased energy the cookies promised, but Samantha’s presence here was more exciting. “What’s up?”

  “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I might stop by and see if Casey was working—I may have a new catering opportunity for him.” Samantha looked past Sasha and waved. “Looks like I’m in luck.”

  Casey jogged over, smiling broadly. “Samantha! What brings you by?”

  “I was just telling Sasha that I may have a catering opportunity for you—a new connection at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. They’re opening a new exhibit and Andrew and I will be attending an award ceremony for a local philanthropist in addition to hosting a mixer or two there at some point. I think you’d be perfect for the job—I’d like to talk to Elise about some passed hors d’oeuvres ideas I had to complement the theme of the night. This is a close family friend of mine. If it goes well at the venue, we’d like to contract you for the mixers after the fact.”

  Casey beamed. “She’ll be ecstatic—this is great news. Thanks, Samantha.”

  “I’m still getting rave reviews of the wedding. You and Elise make a great team.” Samantha seemed so genuinely appreciative, Sasha’s heart swelled, glad for her lieutenant and for the connection she had helped to foster. “Oh, before I eat these, please, take them away.”

  Casey thanked her again before he took the cookies to the common area table and whistled for the guys to come check out the snacks. Burger jarred from the couch and nearly fell to the floor at the high-pitched noise. Sasha barely had time to step in front of Samantha to protect her from Burger’s stumbling, disoriented shuffle.

  “Chill, Burgertime. There’s a lady on the premises. They’re only cookies—no fire here.”

  Burger only grunted in response, his tune changing abruptly when he noticed Samantha. “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m—”

  “Leaving. You’re leaving,” Sasha supplied as she ushered him toward the growing crowd around Samantha’s cookie tray.

  Samantha laughed and looped her arm in Sasha’s. “You’re my hero. Say, any chance a girl can get a tour?”

  “For you, Madame? Anything.” Sasha patted her hand and led her away from the brewing fight over the last chocolate chip cookie. “They are such animals.” Sasha shook her head.

  “They’re really good cookies. Sometimes injuries happen in the name of dessert,” Samantha said.

  “I can see that.” Sasha’s fatigue from earlier felt like it was diminishing, and she was glad for the distraction. “Anyway, this is the bunk room, these are the showers…”

  Sasha enjoyed sharing this part of her life with someone. Her mother had refused to step foot on site since Sasha was injured a while back. It was a regular point of contention for them lately. Valeria McCray wanted her daughter to do something safer. Sasha wanted to live her life by her own rules. It seemed like her father Duncan was the only one who could calm Valeria’s wrath. But her father’s health was fading by the moment and soon it would only
be the two of them, and that thought scared Sasha more than living a life without her best friend—her father—by her side. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to lose him and face off against her mother alone, forever.

  “What’s in here?” Samantha peered into the short hallway toward the main office.

  “That’s the office. The administrator is in there, the schedule sheets, the chief’s office, training manuals, boring stuff.”

  “What’s so boring about being prepared?” The gruff voice of her chief caught her off guard.

  “Nothing, sir. Training keeps us sharp, keeps us safe.” Sasha stood a little taller, reciting the company motto with ease.

  “Mm-hmm.” Chief Luke Herrman appraised her with a small smile. “Who’s your guest, McCray?”

  “Samantha Monteiro,” Samantha replied as she extended her hand to him. “Sasha was giving me a little tour—you have a wonderful station, Chief.”

  “Luke, you can call me Luke.” He smiled broadly and squared his shoulders as he shook her hand. “Thank you.”

  The sound of a machine groaning in defiance from the office behind them broke up the introduction.

  Luke frowned. “That sounds expensive.” He strode in the direction of the noise and Sasha attempted to direct Samantha elsewhere, not wanting to get into any trouble with her shift nearly ending. A loud shriek halted her retreat and soon she and Samantha were following the captain into the office space.

  The scene unfolding in front of her would have been comical if she didn’t already know that this would exponentially increase her cleaning regimen before the shift ended. The temporary administrator was frantically picking up pieces of copy paper that seemed to have been exorcized from the copy machine, shooting out at a feverish pace. Streaks of black ink and toner covered the exposed parts of the floor not littered with piles of ruined paper. Chief Herrman was grumbling something that sounded like swearing as he tried to shield the ever-expanding ink spill from reaching his office door.