Just What the Doctor Ordered

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  She’d never set up an introduction of possibilities for Andrew and some “romantically inclined Cinderella.” She might make her share of mistakes, but she wouldn’t make that one. “All right,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ll keep my recommendations to myself.” She nodded toward the fifth row, left, in the middle. “Go talk to your date. She’s starting to look neglected.”

  He stood, believing he’d fulfilled his mission of cheering up his twin sister. “I think I’ll show her the exit and see if I can interest her in dressing up as superheroes for the duration of the evening. She’d look good in one of those outfits, don’t you think?”

  Ainsley pretended to consider. “As long as the color doesn’t clash with your hair.”

  Just then, Uncle Edward stepped up onto the dais and cleared his throat. “Thank you all for waiting,” he said. “And thank you for your support today. While I can’t ask you to join us for the celebratory reception originally planned, I’m extending a heartfelt invitation for each of you to join us for dinner and dancing and whatever else we decide to do in order to put aside our—” he glanced down at Scott’s defeated and despondent slump “—disappointment.” Then, gesturing toward the doors, Uncle Edward bent down and offered his son a comforting pat on the shoulder.

  Andrew looked at Ainsley. “See you at the buffet tables,” he said and walked over to offer Scott a few words of encouragement before heading for the fifth row, left, and Jocelyn, who welcomed his approach with a wide smile and a tinge of pink blush on her cheeks.

  And for probably the first time since Ainsley had become the matchmaker’s apprentice, the possibility of a romantic match didn’t even cross her mind.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Molly left Scott waiting at the altar and eloped with a cartoon character?”

  The way Ilsa phrased it, the way her voice modulated the question into a simple inquiry, didn’t make Ainsley feel any better. If anything, having to relate the whole sorry story on a sunny Monday morning while sitting in Ilsa’s elegant office made it seem a thousand times worse. “It wasn’t really Mad Mack.” Ainsley stopped, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. “But, of course, you know that.”

  Ilsa was patient—a trait Ainsley had run up against numerous times since she’d begun her apprenticeship six months ago—and she simply folded her hands on top of the polished cherrywood desk and waited.

  Ainsley began again. “What we know is that Molly bolted out the front doors, jumped into a black sports car—which must have looked like the Mackmobile to Calvin—and was gone. Phyllis—she’s the wedding coordinator for the church—was so upset. She’s never had a bride elope before. At least not with someone other than the groom.”

  “Molly didn’t leave a note?”

  Ainsley shook her head. “No, and if she was having doubts, Scott didn’t have a clue. But then he never does.” Ainsley made a face. “He’s my cousin and I’m awfully fond of him, but he’s never been adept at reading emotions. Not even his own.”

  “This must have been quite a shock to him.”

  “He’s convinced himself she ran away with some guy who was a bartender at the restaurant where they met. Where Scott and Molly met, I mean. But I can’t really see her striking up a conversation with a bartender, much less running away with him.”

  “It does seem an unlikely scenario,” Ilsa acknowledged. “On the other hand, IF Enterprises deals in possibilities and it’s been my experience that what seems impossible is sometimes exactly what happens. What I find more interesting is why she decided not to marry Scott…and why at the very last minute. The way you’ve described her, that does seem out of character.”

  “It was my fault,” Ainsley said, blurting out her guilt in a rush and without an ounce of forethought. “It’s all my fault.”

  Ilsa smiled. “How could Molly’s decision be your fault?”

  Ainsley hadn’t meant to confess. When she’d walked into the office this morning, she’d had no inclination to own up to her part in the wedding fiasco. She didn’t want Ilsa to be disappointed in her, for one thing. She didn’t want to get fired, for another. But mostly, she didn’t want anyone else telling her she wasn’t responsible when she knew in her heart she was. “I set up the match,” she said, unable to prevent the misery of the past two days from welling up in her voice. “I know I wasn’t supposed to do any matchmaking until you gave me the okay. I know I’m only an apprentice and that I haven’t learned everything I need to before I start taking clients. But Scott’s a cousin. I didn’t think of him as a real client.”

  She paused, briefly hoping Ilsa would just fire her on the spot so she wouldn’t have to confide the rest, but Ilsa didn’t say a word. “It was more like a…a favor,” Ainsley continued, feeling the words doubling up on her tongue, knowing she talked too much, too fast, when she was nervous. But there were mitigating circumstances in this case and she wanted Ilsa to understand. “I never meant to tell anyone—well, no one other than Miranda and my brothers—that you’d hired me as your apprentice, but with Scott, it just sort of slipped out. He pestered me about finding a match, begged me to set him up with someone who might want to have a relationship with him. He has a wonderful heart, but on the surface he’s your ordinary goofy, geeky type, the kind of guy women never give a second glance. I doubt he’s had more than a dozen dates in his entire life…and he’s nearly thirty.”

  “Self-conscious, ill-at-ease, lacks confidence and consequently tries too hard.” Ilsa nodded. She understood the problems of a lonely heart.

  “Yes,” Ainsley agreed, latching onto the sympathetic image. “On top of that, he’s never figured out how to handle social situations with any polish, so he routinely avoids them and spends way too much of his time in his lab studying the mating habits of bugs…or something equally unromantic and boring. His work is practically all he ever talks about, though, so when he pleaded with me to set up an introduction of possibilities for him, I couldn’t say no.”

  “Naturally, you wanted to help your cousin.”

  “Yes, and I just happened to know the perfect woman for him. You know Shelby Stewart, right? Well, she is exactly what Scott needs. She’s bubbly, fun and very different from him. Her personality would be such a complement to his. She’d bring out his sense of humor—he honestly does have one—and force him into social situations where he’d have to pull himself together. She’d put some sparkle in his life, and Scott is exactly the sort of man she needs, too. He’d help her organize her life—she’s been something of a wild child, you know—and provide her with some stability. He’d be good for her. She’d be good for him. They’d be good together. I just knew in my heart they’d be a perfect match.”

  Ilsa’s expression remained interested, but neutral, so Ainsley stopped trying to justify her reasoning and rushed on with her confession. “To make a long story short, I set up a ‘chance’ encounter a couple of months ago. On Valentine’s Day. Except somehow, Scott wound up at the wrong table and met Molly by mistake. It was a fluke. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong table, wrong match…and it’s all my fault. If it hadn’t been for me, Scott would never have gone anywhere near The Torrid Tomato—it’s not his kind of place, at all. Too trendy and fun, if you know what I mean.”

  An arching of eyebrows indicated Ilsa did know the place and what Ainsley meant.

  “The truth is, Scott would never have been there if I hadn’t set up that introduction of possibilities with Shelby. He’d certainly never have noticed Molly if I hadn’t told him to keep an eye out for opportunity as he walked in. I wanted him to be thinking about something other than how uncomfortable he felt, you see, but I guess he took that to mean he was supposed to come in and start looking for Ms. Right. I don’t know what he was thinking. He was supposed to see me and come straight over to where I was sitting with Shelby. Then I was going to make an excuse to slip away for a cou
ple of minutes and let them get acquainted. But he walked through the door and zeroed in on Molly, who was sitting all alone at a table for two back in the far corner. I still don’t know how he happened to see her, much less why he decided to walk over and introduce himself. I mean, he’s not normally brave. And I don’t know how she happened to catch his eye. She’s so shy and quiet, so timid and reserved…so much like Scott. Who would have imagined she’d invite him to join her for dinner? Or that he’d propose to her only a couple of days later?” Ainsley paused, knowing even as the words left her mouth that she should have imagined at least the possibility of something going awry. A good matchmaker would have thought out more than one scenario before she ever set up the initial encounter.

  But she hadn’t.

  The silence stretched and Ainsley finally forced her eyes up to meet Ilsa’s, made herself look for the censure she was sure she’d find.

  Ilsa’s expression reflected only a thoughtful curiosity.

  “You warned me to be cautious,” Ainsley said. “You told me to learn the basics, to be patient. But I completely ignored your advice because I was so certain Scott and Shelby would hit it off…and now it’s all a big mess. Scott is devastated. The whole Danville family is in an uproar. Uncle Edward has declared Molly will never be welcome in his home, so even when—if—she comes back, Scott won’t be able to forgive her without upsetting everyone all over again. It’s an awful situation and it’s all my fault.”

  Ilsa, a master at interpreting even the slightest slip of the tongue, sat quietly for a moment. “Do you know why Molly ran away from her wedding, Ainsley?”

  Time to face the consequences and divulge the worst truth of all. “She ran away because I said she was the wrong match for Scott.”

  Ilsa blinked. “You said that to her?”

  “Not those exact words.” Ainsley felt sick with regret. “And I said it to everyone present at the time, not directly to her.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “At the wedding rehearsal Friday night.”

  “You told a couple, in front of their family and friends, and on the day before their wedding, that you considered their match a mistake?” Now there was astonishment in her voice, a startled surprise, a hint of dismay even her refinement couldn’t disguise. “Why would you do that, Ainsley?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I tried to finesse my way out of the question, but Scott wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to tell everyone I was responsible for matching him up with Molly…as if I’d want people to know I’d put together such a mismatch. I reminded him that he’d promised to keep my secret. That he’d sworn he’d never reveal my part in the setup, not even to the woman I’d matched him with. But at the rehearsal, he was like a little kid, so excited and emotional and wanting everyone to understand how happy he was. There was a lot of champagne flowing, which didn’t help matters, and suddenly, he stood up and told the entire gathering he and Molly owed their happiness all to me and that they were going to name their first child after me.

  “Needless to say, it was an awkward moment and before I realized how it would sound, I blurted out that if I’d had anything to do with it, he’d be marrying Shelby Stewart, not Molly.” Ainsley winced at the memory. “The minute I saw the look on Molly’s face, I knew she realized I’d never intended for her to meet Scott, that I’d meant him to meet Shelby instead, no matter what he believed.”

  “Scott told her you’d set up that initial meeting at the restaurant?”

  “Probably the first words out of his mouth.” Ainsley shifted in the chair. “He’s even worse at discretion than I am.”

  “Perhaps it would have been better if you’d kept your own counsel,” Ilsa said, her smile unexpectedly gentle. “But Ainsley, I don’t see how you can take the blame for everything that happened. Your only true mistake was in concluding the outcome of your introduction of possibilities was the wrong one.”

  “Please don’t try to make me feel better, Ilsa. Scott and Molly aren’t simply a bad match. They’re totally wrong for each other.”

  “You seem so certain about that.”

  “If you spent five minutes with my cousin, you’d be certain, too.”

  Ilsa considered that, as she checked her watch. “You’ll discover, Ainsley, if you continue your apprenticeship, that an introduction of possibilities is fraught with…well, with possibilities.”

  “Is one of those possibilities my unemployment?”

  “What?”

  “Are you going to fire me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I did the very thing you asked me not to do, the one thing you cautioned me about.”

  “You’re guilty of trying to predict the future, Ainsley. That’s hardly the crime you’re trying to make it out to be. We all do it from time to time. Unsuccessfully, for the most part.”

  “You wouldn’t have made this kind of mistake. You know you wouldn’t have.”

  “I’ve made my share of mistakes, Ainsley. I still make them. Look at Peter and Thea Braddock. I was certain my intuition was leading me astray with them. While it worked out to be a true love match in the end, I’m still convinced that my part in it was misguided at best.”

  “They’re perfect together.” Ainsley couldn’t believe Ilsa had any lingering doubts about the match. “Besides, I felt the same connection between them that you did. I encouraged you to put them together and, as they say, ‘all’s well that ends well.’”

  “We did close the Braddock files rather successfully, didn’t we?” Ilsa’s slow smile hinted at the depth of her own successful romance with James Braddock, the father of Peter, Bryce and Adam. Ilsa had made matches for all three of James’s sons the previous year. Now she was rediscovering a happiness she hadn’t known was possible. Ilsa hadn’t married James as yet, but Ainsley thought it wouldn’t be long. And Ainsley herself deserved some credit for that romance, since she’d personally encouraged, prodded and pressed Ilsa to give James a chance.

  “Maybe you would have set up the possibilities differently for Thea and Peter if you had it to do over again,” Ainsley said. “But the result is still a love match. Thea and Peter will only be happier together as time goes on. That wouldn’t have happened for Scott and Molly. They’re too much alike.”

  “Many wonderful marriages are built on similarities and shared interests, Ainsley. Having a great deal in common is usually an asset in a relationship. Look at your parents. They’re a perfect example.”

  Ainsley’s parents were the perfect example of having so much in common there wasn’t room for anything else, but of course, she couldn’t say that. Not to Ilsa. Not to anyone. “If Mom and Dad weren’t so totally dedicated to their work for The Danville Foundation, I’m not sure they’d have anything at all to talk about.”

  Ilsa laughed. “Four wonderful children might warrant an occasional conversation.”

  Ainsley wasn’t sure her parents realized they had children. They’d been gone nine or ten months out of every twelve for as long as she could remember. There could be no argument that The Danville Foundation dealt in noble causes or that its work was necessary and courageous. No one would ever accuse Charles and Linney Danville of being selfish, or of putting anything—not even their own family—above their commitment to their calling. For all practical purposes, their life’s work had required that Matt, Miranda, Andrew and Ainsley be orphans so that less fortunate children in other parts of the world could be saved from hunger, disease and disasters.

  But as she’d always done, Ainsley shook off the feeling she’d been cheated somehow in the parenting sweepstakes. It was an unworthy thought and made her feel heartily ashamed of herself every time it bobbed to the surface. She returned her attention to Ilsa. “If my parents ever had a difference of opinion about anything, it probably would make headline news aroun
d the world. They even finish each other’s sentences.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. I imagine Charles and Linney have had to depend on each other much more than most couples because of the nature of their work and the dangerous situations they’re often faced with. For them, having that innate understanding of each other could very well be a matter of survival.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a negative way,” Ainsley said, hastily covering her tracks. “I’m just saying that if one of my parents had come to you as a client, you’d never have put them together as a couple.” She didn’t believe her parents would have married in the first place, much less stayed married for thirty-five years, if not for their absorption in, and dedication to, their humanitarian work. But she’d only voiced that opinion once, a long time ago, when she’d announced to her siblings her belief that Charles and Linney did not belong together. To say Matt and Miranda had given her a serious scold was putting it mildly. “You’d have chosen someone very different for both of them. You know you would have, Ilsa. I know you would have.”

  “Perhaps,” Ilsa said with a smile. “Which doesn’t mean I’d have been right. The business of making matches is nothing if not subjective, Ainsley. I bring my own prejudices into it, just as you will. Despite your intentions for him, Scott fell in love with Molly. And even if, as you claim, they are too much alike to ever find a true happiness, that’s their discovery to make. You need to remember that we, as matchmakers, are merely facilitators of romance, not the judge and jury of whether or not the match will be successful. Once you’ve set the possibilities in motion, your role is to step back and observe what happens.”

  Ainsley smiled for perhaps the first time since the wedding. Or rather, the non-wedding. “So do you think I should set up another introduction of possibilities and hope that this time Scott will sit down at the right table and fall in love with Shelby?”