"Oh, well she's only 17," I jump in, "and since she's not a blood relative, I guess I sort of figured she...didn't qualify?"
I watch Raven's lips purse in a small frown as she scribbles something down. She nods and once again, I'm fascinated by the color of her hair as the afternoon sun hits it through the window behind her. It's such a unique shade of red and it seems both incongruous with her olive skin and perfectly suited to it at the same time.
"That makes sense," she finally says, "and what about the other ladies? You don't think any of your customers would be suitable to help with the process?"
I must look as horrified as I feel because Raven's expression goes from genuinely curious to mildly amused to sincerely apologetic in a flash.
"Oh Tiffany, I'm sorry," she rushes to tell me, leaning forward to pat my knee reassuringly, "I promise our business is strictly confidential. I didn't tell anyone who I am or why I'm here today. I understand that what I do is controversial and each of my clients' reasons for hiring me is extremely personal, I keep all my business strictly confidential."
It's nothing I didn't already know. Raven's privacy policy was one of the reasons I felt secure in retaining her services to begin with. I nod in understanding and she tentatively takes her hand off my knee and sits back in her chair again.
"It's just that you obviously have a very strong connection with your customers and several of them seem to go back quite some time with you," she says.
I can't help but laugh a little as I agree, thinking about some of the women who were gathered out front a few minutes ago.
"Yup," I tell Raven, "I've got some loyal customers. Most of them have been with me since I opened the store."
"And that was...?"
"About 10 years ago now, right before..." I watch Raven's face soften as my voice drifts off. It was right before Paul died. Right before our wedding, actually. I remember how he teased me because I was so calm about getting married but I was a nervous wreck about opening the store.
"He used to joke that I was marrying the book store, not him," I tell her.
Of course I've already told her my whole life story. She knows about Paul-- my husband. My late husband.
It's funny how it can seem so far away and yet so much like it was just yesterday, how I can still feel so much love for him and yet feel like he's so far behind me at the same time.
Raven nods when I share my thoughts. "I've worked with a lot of widows," she tells me. "What you're saying is very common."
She jots down a few more notes.
"I think I have everything I need," she finally tells me after a minute. "I'm really glad I had a chance to meet Bethany and the book club girls," she says with a chuckle as she gets to her feet, "they were a lot of fun and they absolutely adore you, you know."
"A little too much for my tastes sometimes," I say as I jump up from my chair to walk her out. "Are you sure you don't have any more questions? Do you need to know what kind of man I'm looking for? Did you want me to give a list of qualities I'd like?"
Raven stops before opening the door and when she looks at me she's obviously trying not to laugh as she shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. Tiffany, I'm good at what I do. It might sound arrogant, but I'm confident in my skills as a marriage broker and if there's one thing I can assure you of, it's that what's right for us is never quite what we're looking for."
She pauses a moment and watches my reaction. I hope I don't look too disappointed or insulted, I trust Mrs. Swann, I really do, it's just that...
"I know," she answers like she can read my thoughts, "I had a list too." With that statement she gives me a knowing smirk and opens the office door. Before she turns back to me, she checks the hall to make sure no one overhears her as she turns back to me, "I'll find your next love, Mrs. Rowe, you can count on it," she says quietly.
My next love?
Her words catch me off guard and render me speechless long enough that by the time I catch up to her out front as she says good bye to Beth, it's too late to correct her. All I can do is walk her to the door and shake her hand before she climbs into the fancy convertible rental car and waves good bye to me as she pulls out of the parking lot.
I'll have to email her later and remind her that I'm not looking to fall in love again. Been there, done that. All I need is a solid partner, not another happily ever after.
Nathan
You know I'm not supposed to tell you yet." Helen giggles and pulls another plant from its plastic starter pot, getting ready to set it into the hole she just made in the mounded garden row.
"I know you're not supposed to but you weren't supposed to tell me anything else either," I point out carefully- the woman is digging with a 9 inch hunting knife after all.
My neighbor looks up at me from her up-turned 5 gallon bucket garden stool. Her arm dangles between her knees, her dress a muddy mess where she's dragged the hem through the garden this morning.
I'm used to seeing her out here in her late husband's tattered overalls, but since the weather started warming up, I've been seeing her in more feminine attire. Today it's a soft cotton frock in a delicate floral print. The pastel colors give Helen's no-nonsense demeanor a lighter quality that I've decided suits her well.
It's hard to tell if the dress is something that's been hanging in her closet for years, part of a Helen that was folded up and put away long before I met her, or if it's something new. Maybe an impulse buy to go with the flat of strawberry plants she's planting today?
The dress is already covered in dirt and the fabric of the skirt is soaking wet from where it's been dragged along the ground as she moves her bucket and her progress down the rows.
"Look Nate," she leans down and pokes the knife blade into the dirt, carefully churning soil to make placing the plants easier, "I told you when I started meetin' the girls. I told you when we got it narrowed down to just the two," she sits upright again and fixes me in her ice blue gaze, "and I told you when I decided who I like."
Helen squints up at me against the morning sun, "I ain't tellin' ya the rest till it's official." She frowns at me and goes back to her gardening, "And then you can meet her your own damn self. Make sure you take a bunch of them carrots with ya." She sits up and waves the knife towards the wheelbarrow filled with fresh dug carrots and beets.
I like the way she tells me to take carrots like it's part of the same conversation but then, this time of year every conversation ends with her telling me to take something with me; carrots, radishes, beets, zucchini, whatever she has too much of that day.
Grabbing a handful of carrots, I pretend to be annoyed with the old woman but Helen just squints up at me and laughs.
"Don't go giving me any of that attitude, young man," she scolds in a voice that lacks seriousness, "it's just a few more days and then you can stop worrying about who you get to marry and start worrying about whether or not she's gonna have ya."
Helen cackles in delight at her own orneriness and turns her attention back to her strawberry plants.
There's not much left for me to do out here and it's clear that I won't be getting any more information out of my neighbor than I managed to get out of my daughters. Surrendering my fight with a deep sigh and a healthy handful of carrots and beets from the wheelbarrow, I hover for just a moment longer in hopes that Helen make take pity on me and give me a little more information than she already has.
She's on to me though and all I get is a wave of the hunting knife, shooing me back out of the garden.
Back in the house, I stand at the kitchen sink and absently scrub the freshly dug root vegetables free of the part of the garden I don't want to eat and put them in the refrigerator next to the radishes she forced on me a few days ago.
Dani let it slip that they'd decided on a match for me during our conversation this morning-- somewhere between "ohmygoshdad...and he's totally into me too" and "I just need enough to cover my bills till I get paid because I had to pay for the airfare up front."
It's a damn good thing that kid did slip up and tell me about finding a match for me, or I'd likely have put it together that she's flying to Cancun for spring break with some guy who's "totally into" her before just this minute.
Of course, my youngest wasn't about to stay on the phone long enough to answer any questions after sweet talking me into a few hundred dollars and my oldest, Summer, conveniently remembered she had to do anything other than talk to her old man once I started digging for info.
With Helen's lips sealed too-- all I can do is sit tight and wait till I get the final word from Raven and then I can start stressing my first date with the woman I'm going to be marrying just a few months from now.
If all goes well, I remind myself.
Grabbing a couple of the radishes from the fridge to nibble on, I make my way onto the back porch. From here I can see Helen still out in her garden. For a second I consider heading back out there to see if I can get her to give up some information about my future wife.
Instead, I take a seat on the swing and absently watch her set her bucket in the wheelbarrow, move it up next to her shed, and come back with the garden hose in hand.
Dani's so excited about the idea of me getting married again. She was on board with the plan before I could explain the details. But then, my youngest has always been the impulsive one, and maybe she'd like to get her old man off her case about her own love life and thinks getting me to focus on mine might do the trick.
My oldest, however, hasn't been as supportive as I'd expected. I thought for sure Summer would be into the match maker thing. After all, she was the little girl who was going to grow up to be a princess. She's been a hopeless romantic since the first time she heard the words "happily ever after." At 21 she's got her own ideas about the way things are supposed to go, and even though she's been enjoying the process, she's made it clear more than once that arranged marriage is not her idea of the best way to find true love.
I'm not sure how long I've been sitting on this porch swing, watching the world go by while I think over all the ways life at almost 45 hasn't turned out a damn bit like I expected it to back when I was Summer's age, when my cell phone rings.
Pulling it out of my shirt pocket to check the caller ID, I see Raven's name on the screen and damned if my hands don't start shaking so bad I can barely get the call answered.
"Nathan?" I hear her warm tone on the line and it calms me down pretty quick. That was one of the first things I noticed about Raven when we started talking, she's one of those people who just have a way of making you feel safe, like you can trust her.
I told her she missed her calling in hostage negotiation because no matter what I think I'm going to tell her when I start talking to her, she always manages to convince me to see things her way.
Of course, she just laughed softly when I said that and assured me she's much better suited to finding soul mates than bargaining with kidnappers.
"I'm calling to let you know that your team has agreed on a match for you," she tells me, "has anyone said anything to you yet?"
The rules say they're not supposed to tell me a damn thing so Raven's casual question makes me stutter out a hesitant denial that doesn't fool the professional for a second.
"Don't worry," she laughs, "it's not going to void your contract. Almost everyone gets a hint from at least one of their team members-- or their match maker," she admits.
"Well I'm glad no one's in trouble," I say, "but no one's giving me any hints either." I hope my match maker gets my own hint and gives me one back, I'm dying here.
"I am surprised to hear that, Nathan," her voice turns all mysterious and more professional, "I thought for sure Mrs. Montgomery would have been bending your ear all afternoon. You do know that they've chosen a match though?"
"Yeah, actually Dani let that slip this morning but I haven't been able to get any more information out of any of 'em."
Raven hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line and I'm hoping she's considering giving up some information.
"Well, if they're not ready to give up any details yet, I guess I'd better respect their decision." She sounds a little disappointed to me, but when she puts it that way I feel like an ass for giving Helen the third degree all afternoon. "I will let you know that I am already working with your team to set up the initial introduction. As soon as we work out the details, I'll be flying out personally to act as Mrs. Rowe's chaperon."
I listen while Raven talks me through the next step of the process and then bids me a cheerful good bye, telling me how much she's looking forward to being able to meet me in person after all the time we've been working together.
Then she's ending the call and it's only after the line goes dead that I start putting what she just told me into some sort of order.
In the next few days, I'm going to meet my fiance. The people who know me best have all agreed that this woman-- this Mrs. Rowe-- is my best shot at a relationship that's going to last longer than a few years.
Mrs. Rowe is going to be my wife, the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with...
Wait a damn minute here! Raven's voice plays back in my memory and I stare at my phone in my hand, wondering if I heard right and, if I did, should I call her back and demand an explanation?
Did she say "Mrs?"
Tiffany
I'm relieved that my first meeting with my future husband is a standard dinner date at a run of the mill steak house somewhere in Durango, Colorado.
According to Raven, Nathan actually lives about an hour and a half away but Raven tells me he lives in a very small community and she wanted us to meet on neutral ground.
That's fine with me. The flight out here was stressful enough; not only am I here to meet a man I've never even text messaged just for formality before we get married, but the only person I have to fly out with me and act as my chaperon happens to the be the woman I paid to find me a husband.
I'm about to come unhinged and Raven is cool as a cucumber, acting like she does this every day.
She does do this everyday, I remind myself as I follow her into the restaurant.
While I'm trying to remember how to walk and breathe at the same time, I can hear Raven's enthusiastic voice as a tall man comes out of the restaurant lobby to greet her.
I'm still a few feet from them and I stop dead in my tracks when I see the man giving Raven a friendly hug.
That can't be him. My feet refuse to move, my mind scrambles to remember who's supposed to be here tonight. What other man might be here that would know Raven?
I stand in the middle of the sidewalk and a family of people just leaving have to part to walk around me but it's like I can either stare at the guy holding the door open for a couple of older ladies as they head inside, or I can turn around and make a run for it. I can't do both and my feet are stuck in place while my brain tries to decide which way to go.
The man in question talks casually with Raven as they wait for me to catch up.
Oh God, they're looking at me. It occurs to me that I probably look like an idiot standing here, rooted to the spot. Quickly looking for an excuse to have come to a complete stand-still, I rummage through my purse as if I'm looking for something-- something I desperately need right. this. minute.
My courage maybe?
I never expected my new husband would be so-- hot. I try to get a grip on my nerves as I sift through my purse in search of...something...ooh! lip gloss. That'll work. I know I'm nervous, but I'm still surprised at how bad my hand is shaking as I lift the tube out of my bag and uncap it.
This can't be right, I think as I straighten my back and try to casually apply a fresh coat of gloss while keenly aware that my dinner companions are patiently waiting for me to join them. I told Raven I just wanted a husband for the companionship. From the description Raven gave me on our flight out here, I was expecting an older man and-- I look back at the man standing beside Raven a few yards away from me-- Nathan is older. Than me. But he's
a far cry from what I had pictured.
Dropping the gloss back into my bag, I smooth my skirt and square my shoulders, doing my best to look like this was a totally intentional, last minute self-check and not the complete bumbling panic attack that has me fighting the urge to turn around and run with each step that I force my feet to take closer to the steak house door.
Nathan-- if that's who the man really is-- is tall. He towers over Raven by a full head and Raven is a few inches taller than I am, and she's wearing heels.
She's also watching me with a quirk to the corners of her lips like she knows exactly what's going through my mind. If she was one of my girlfriends, I'd accuse her of doing this to me on purpose just to watch me squirm.
I'd also accuse her of setting me up for failure because there is no way a guy like the one I'm looking at right now is going to be satisfied with the likes of me.
"Sorry," I mumble as I join my party, "I just uh--" have no excuse whatsoever for having just frozen in mid step on the sidewalk and making them wait for me.
Fortunately, Raven saves me from whatever lame excuse I'm about to make up, "Tiffany," she says my name purposefully, "this is Nathan." She steps sideways, closer to the restaurant door and gestures at the man beside her who holds his hand out to shake mine.
My stomach falls into my shoes at the confirmation of my suspicion. I feel my pulse pick up to a pace I'm not sure is healthy as I bring my eyes up to meet his. My hand feels like it weighs a ton but I force it up to take his.
Nathan must be 6 foot 4 or so. He has wide shoulders and a broad chest that combine with his height to make an even more impressive image when you add in his confident posture.
"Hi." The simple syllable is uttered in a deep voice that vibrates through me but there's a nervous note in it that makes me feel better about my own trembling hand as I shake his quickly and then pull it away hoping he doesn't have time to notice.
A Sensible Arrangement: A Modern Match-Maker Romance Page 3