Cupid Valentine (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 11)

by Marlene Bierworth

  Chris and Annie sat quietly and listened to the many conversations that made the rounds at the table. From world concerns to the state of the economy and even a stab at religious reactions to Mr. Potter having the nerve to wear his hat through the entire church service on Sunday. Chris sat to full attention. The grown-ups had finally targeted the home-front, and that was the only news that interested her at the moment.

  During the meal, Chris’ attention had been drawn to Mr. Thacker. He’d joined in on the debate of commerce and world issues but now frowned at the trivial nonsense that lit up the face of Livingston’s gossipers. He worked at the bank – a prestigious position obviously – for he carried himself proudly, as people in the money business often did. Yet, there was an air of secrecy to him that Chris could not put her finger on. She found herself imagining different scenarios for the best and the worst of his life, past, present and future. It was when he mentioned that his tailor lived all the way in New York and he hated the waiting for his clothes that Chris entered the conversation.

  “Mr. Thacker. I believe I have a solution for you. Miss Kara Frankford runs a tailor shop here in Livingston. In fact, she is designing my mother’s wedding gown. We are very impressed with her work. Perhaps you should give her a try next time you need someone to customize your wardrobe.”

  The man appeared surprised that the child at the table had actually spoken. She rarely did. He extended a warm smile in Chris’ direction before he responded. “Strange you should mention it. Her account came across my desk just yesterday, and I debated the very same thought.”

  Tamara laughed. “My daughter is helping the seamstress with odd jobs around the place. Possibly drumming up business will place Chris in her employers’ good graces.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned at her daughter.

  “She has no need to persuade me further, Mrs. Spencer. The woman’s records tell me all I need to know of her skills and good business sense.”

  “Then you’ll give her a try?” Chris asked.

  “I believe I shall. I am considering a new overcoat. Mine is too thin for the cold Montana winters.”

  “Stephen – you’ve only lived in Livingston for one year, am I correct?” Joel asked.

  “Quite – although I suffered in silence through the tail end of the last cold season,” he said.

  The conversation went downhill from there, as far as gathering information on the newest prospect, Mr. Stephen Thacker. But the chattering that followed was interesting as it reviewed all the new folks that had moved into the area in the past year – Chris and her mother included. The young matchmaker mentally stored names for future happily-ever-after couples. But the name of the counterpart for Kara was already confirmed in Chris’ mind. Among the list of eligible bachelors, there could only be one perfect choice.

  Chris glanced across the table at Annie and noted the secretive twinkle in her eye. It appeared they were on the same track.

  As soon as Tamara and Joel left for the cozy sleigh ride to destination unknown, Chris and Annie escaped to the bedroom. They both jumped on the bed at the same time and collapsed with a sigh.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Annie asked.

  “Are we talking Stephen Thacker as a match for Kara Frankford?”

  The girls sat up and joined pinkies, giggling and patting themselves on the back for deciding the new match.

  “Nothing like tackling the impossible feat right off the bat. Those two are from totally different worlds.”

  “Ever hear of opposites attracting? Who’d want to live with a carbon copy of yourself, anyway,” Annie said.

  “Me! I’d become bored sick with the quiet, mousy type.”

  “But that was me – before you moved here,” said Annie.

  “No way! You might have thought that girl was you, but the real person was hiding out – waiting in quiet anticipation, with baited breath, for the mere invitation to great adventures.”

  “So, opposites do attract. My theory still holds true. Kara Frankford needs to break out of her shell, and Stephen needs to stop trying to solve the world’s problems and help her. A perfect recipe for romance if I do say so myself,” said Annie.

  “You’re pretty good at this love-stuff,” Chris said. She placed her open palm under her chin and rested it on her crossed knee. “Now, we have to figure out the ornament. What do you suppose Mrs. Claus would send if she weren’t so tired right now?”

  “Something along the lines of a Cupid Christmas – if that’s even a combination,” said Annie. “Or sewing, since that appears to be the only common link.”

  “And it should be heart-shaped for love,” said Chris.

  “And maybe use woolly material since the new coat for him is their first introduction.”

  “Do you think we should have a cupid arrow in it to grind it in the face of Mrs. Claus’ competition?”

  “Not sure.”

  Chris wiggled off the bed. “I’ve got lots of crafty stuff stashed in boxes that I haven’t unpacked.” Chris ran for the closet. “Let’s get it out and see what we can come up with.”

  Annie joined her on the floor, and the two buried their heads in the project.

  “Look! I found two angel ornaments – one is a cupid ready to shoot off his arrow, and the other is holding a bright red heart. This is perfect.”

  “Kind of a double-fold message,” Chris said then giggled before she continued. “The two of us – cupid angels, with a message of love to bring – and two lonely people to receive it. One recipient needs to takes the lead, targeting the arrow, to pierce romance straight through the heart. And this other angel, so much like Kara, looks all shy standing in the background waiting for love,” said Annie.

  “How will we connect the idea so that Stephen and Kara know who is meant to take the lead?” asked Annie.

  “That will probably happen on its own – you know, the magic part. But just to be sure, we can draw a picture. I’m great at sketching. We’ll include it as a kind of message like Mama got with her ornamental gift,” said Chris.

  “Mrs. Claus should be providing the ornament and the message. I’m nervous,” said Annie. “We’re jumping ahead of the Matchmaker – into unknown territory, I might add. Perhaps we should sit tight and wait for her to lead us.”

  “What! And pass up on this great opportunity to unite two lonely souls for Valentine’s Day? The Claus family is on holidays, but Cupid is not! This is our chance to get one on the scoreboard for the great lady. She’ll be impressed. Stop worrying.”

  After Annie left for home Chris retired to her room for the night. She dragged out two large pieces of paper and began to sketch. With confidence she outlined, shaded, and created two figures that seemed to come alive on the page. One cupid angel held the bow and arrow and the other a heart. For the backdrop, she weaved soft, white nylon creating folds and depth into her picture. Chris added a couple of stars at the farthest viewpoint, to give it the rich gold effect that reinforced the crimson red hearts.

  She pondered how she could bring in the woolen bond that would spark this new relationship. In the end, she found some dark scraps of material in the box and laid the picture on top and then the ornamental figurine of the angel with the heart on top of that. She wrapped the bundle together and tied it with a red ribbon. This would go to Kara. The woman appeared jittery like she lived in the shadows and needed drawing out. The hour grew late. Chris turned up the lantern before proceeding to duplicate the same picture to send to Stephen Thacker. He would receive the identical package with the angel cupid drawing back the arrow. She sincerely hoped he was a man that could take this relationship clear through to the end and pierce Kara’s heart with a happily-ever-after kind of love.

  The moon was high in the sky when Chris crawled under the covers. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep, but instead of peaceful rest, she fought misdirected arrows the entire night. Not one hit the target for which it was intended. Chris woke in a cold sweat the next morning.
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  Before school, Chris hurried to the local self-serve blessing-box. The café was quiet this morning, occupied by the few folks that preferred to nibble – as opposed to devouring a full-blown breakfast – then drain the coffee pot while reading the morning paper. The Guest Bin was a place to go for snacks, socializing, read a book or have a gab session with neighbors. The entire town used the center as a general meeting-up place. Mrs. Charleston, born a southern-bred socialite, and now a frontier retired senior citizen, came up with the idea. It was a hit. Those too busy to frequent the establishment on a regular basis did not miss out on the benefits of the mailbox, for others in the community would make sure the intended recipient got anything addressed to them. Chris felt confident that her parcels would be either picked up personally or delivered.

  Chris avoided the few people at the café and wound around to the wall of the blessing boxes. They were open cubbies, like the ones built for the schoolhouse, and Mrs. Charleston monitored the leavings so they didn’t sit too long. This location was a perfect way to deliver and remain anonymous. Chris inhaled deeply then let it out slow and easy. Their first matchmaking scheme was now set in motion. She experienced a slight tinge of rebellion in side-stepping Mrs. Claus, but at the same time felt an urgency to get this romance started. She sighed. Love was a strange and risky business.

  PACKAGE DELIVERED

  “Where’s this weeks money?” Sam Frankford bellowed.

  “I haven’t had a chance to do the books yet. I’ve been too busy keeping up with the orders,” said Kara as she gathered her things together to head over to the shop.

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t let people be so dog-gone picky with modern designs. Mass production would be a sight more profitable.”

  “The name of my shop is Made to Order. I can’t very well sell copies. No one wants to look like everyone else.”

  “She’s right, Sam. Let her do it her way,” said Millie Frankford as she filled his cup with the black mud-coffee that he craved. It managed to keep his mood half-ways civilized first thing in the morning.

  “As long as the money keeps pourin’ in. Ya know I can’t work with this pain throbbing like it does,” said Sam adding a sympathizing groan for effect.

  Kara was well past sympathy. There was nothing wrong with his back that a good dose of work wouldn’t solve. When her brother had been killed at the sawmill five years ago, he’d quit his job, and even after his grieving was done, continued to sponge off his daughter. He was a blood-sucking leech, and the only reason Kara put up with him was her mother. In his state of self-pity, he’d let her starve and blame it all on Kara.

  Sam grunted loud and crotchety when he received no measure of pity from the ladies in the house. He slurped his coffee dry, slammed the cup down, and trudged outside.

  Kara nudged her mother. “Come to the shop later, and we’ll do lunch at the Diner. My treat.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not my birthday.”

  “I don’t need a reason to spoil my mother. You deserve it.”

  Out of habit, she glanced at the door her husband has just walked out. “Not today, dear. Your father seems a bit put out.”

  “He’s always put out,” Kara said as she headed toward the door. “If you change your mind, you know where I am.”

  Kara stormed from the little house that perched on the outskirts of Livingston – sitting like a lop-sided boulder balancing on the edge of a cliff. The property had fallen into a sad state of disrepair. Kara did not have the extra time needed to maintain the premises, her mother was too weak, and her father drank his days away. A shack would best describe the place she called home, a place where she never entertained guests – past, present or future.

  Kara murmured and marched at a furious pace all the way into the heart of town. Her heels clicked on the boardwalk, hallow and orderly. She barely acknowledged the scenery around her nor basked in the hope of a new day.

  “You-hoo!” Mrs. Charleston called from the door of the Guest Bin while waving a parcel in her hands.

  Kara slowed her steps as she approached and forced a smile. The woman that summoned her was a return customer. “Good morning, Georgia.”

  “I knew you’d be rushing past about this time of day and watched for you. While doing my morning walk-about, I strolled past the blessing boxes, and when I glanced in, low and behold, there was a gift sitting there for you. I never saw who brought it in – although I’d never tell. But, I wanted to be sure you got it straight away.”

  Kara reached out for the package. “I’m not expecting anything.”

  “Of course you aren’t. That’s the whole purpose of the cubbies. If it gives that face of yours a lift, it will have served its purpose.”

  Kara sighed. “Does my lousy morning show that much?”

  “Now dear, we all have those.” She pointed to the postmark. “You may find it amusing to note the return address on the parcel in question is the North Pole.” She smiled like they shared a secret. “Did Santa forget to put some love under your tree this past Christmas?”

  “Santa Claus?” Kara peered at the return address. “Correction – Mrs. Claus,” Kara said while examining with appreciation the fancy scroll in the upper left corner. “The woman is apparently a beautiful writer.”

  “Among other things,” said Mrs. Charleston. “I hear she delivers love to lonely hearts.”

  “Now who did you hear that from?” asked Kara.

  “Why everyone knows that Tamara Spencer and Joel Parker wouldn’t be getting married if it weren’t for the help of the ornamental plaid reindeer.”

  “That’s absurd! They are grown adults and would not believe such nonsense.”

  “Christmas magic is hard to fight.”

  “Well Christmas is over,” said Kara.

  “And Valentine’s Day is right around the corner. Perhaps Cupid and Mrs. Claus are in cahoots and determined to find all the lonely hearts in Livingston.”

  “I really must go, Mrs. Charleston. I have a fitting with a customer shortly.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been thinking of a new dress for the upcoming Valentine’s dance. Or does the wedding come first? Dear me, I need to look on my calendar. Either way, one can’t be caught wearing yesterday’s fashion.” Mrs. Charleston patted Kara’s hand. “I’ll drop by later and take a look at some bolts of cloth. I have a perfect design in mind. You don’t mind me offering guidelines, do you dear?”

  Did the woman never stop talking? “Certainly not. After all, you will be the one wearing it,” said Kara.

  “And paying for it. You must have quite a stash of cash built up to fill your hope chest and help celebrate your wedding day – that is, whenever that lucky man shoots one of Cupid’s arrows your way.”

  Now Kara definitely needed to escape. “I must run. Thank you for the parcel, Mrs. Charleston, and I look forward to your dropping by. Young Chris Spencer is helping me after school, and she is organizing quite the display for the material. You’ll hardly recognize the place.”

  “Then I shall see you after school.” She shivered. “Look at me out here with no wrap. Catch me a death of foolishness.” Mrs. Charleston turned and hurried inside without another word.

  The door slammed shut, and Kara breathed a sigh of relief. She gripped the package under her arm, rearranged her bundle, and covered the distance from there to the doorstep of her shop in a scant four minutes. She pounded her snowy feet on the boardwalk then hastened into the shop. Light poured in from the large front window and Kara could still smell the scent of the lemony cleaning products Chris had used yesterday. It lifted her spirits.

  In the storage room, she unloaded her arms and shed her coat and boots. She heard the doorbell chimes and sighed. Her day had begun, whether she was ready or not. She enjoyed her job – the opportunities to create miracles with her needle – but she knew she would love it more if the business were hers alone. Although her father had no money invested in the place, he always managed to throw a wet blanket over her dream,
and of course, squeeze every extra cent into his pockets to pay for his lazy lifestyle.

  She inhaled, stood tall, and headed for the outer room. No time for self-pity. Kara determined not to become contaminated by her father’s behavior. Today was no different from any other. She would rise above his shadow, as she did every day.

  She abruptly halted when she noticed the man in her shop. He was not a customer. He was from the bank. She’d seen him there when she made deposits. Her heart pounded, and she wondered if she’d done something wrong that would jeopardize the running of her workshop.

  He moved forward, removed his hat and held out his hand in greeting. “Good morning, Miss Frankford. My name is Stephen Thacker. It’s a dandy day – if you welcome the cold.”

  Kara smiled. “I don’t mind the cold at all. As long as I’m dressed for it, winter and I get along alright.” She needed to discover the reason for his being here before her panic erupted full-force. “You work at the bank, yes? I hope I am not in trouble with my loan.”

  “No! On the contrary. I do review your progress from time to time, and it appears you are doing very well in the tailoring business.”

  Kara exhaled in relief. “Good, you had me scared there for a minute. I do my own bookkeeping, which is not my strong point. Always afraid that I missed something when I send reports to the bank.”

  “If you ever have the need for advice, please do not hesitate to approach me. I am all in favor of young woman entering the professional arena.”

  “You are among the minority,” Kara said surprised at how this man could raise her spirits higher and extend her self-worth with a few encouraging words. Her father – being the only man in her life – never had anything positive or uplifting to say.

  “I sincerely hope not. I lived in New York most of my life and watched the world change – for the better, I think. Women bring an entirely different perspective into the field of commerce. They need encouragement to keep up the good effort so as not to become silenced into oblivion like a last years fashions.”