Perfectly Matched: ...And the Rest of the Matchmaking Chef Books

by Maddie James

  A breeze whipped in behind them and slapped the door flat open against the wall. “Oh!”

  Sydney angled the box on the counter and raced before the wind caught it again and broke the old glass window pane insets.

  “A bit brisk,” Suzie said, straightening her jacket about her.

  Sydney firmly shut the door. “You can say that again. Thunderstorm coming, I think.” Turning, she glanced toward her cousin, Suzie, and then at Lyssa, who was dabbing off another round of powdered sugar on her Dusky Pink-lined lips and staring into her empty cup.

  She glanced up. “Mind if I refill my coffee, Syd?”

  “Have at it.”

  Both Sydney and Suzie watched as Lyssa slid off the counter bar stool and waddled in her black stretch pants around the counter and toward the Bunn coffeemaker. Suzie sidled closer to Sydney and whispered. “Put on a tad bit of weight lately, huh?”

  In a low voice, Sydney replied, “She’s depressed. Wants a divorce.”

  Suzie slanted a gaze her way. “But she’s not married.”

  “Yeah. Well, she needs to get married so she can get a divorce. It’s part of her grand plan.”

  One corner of Suzie’s mouth drew up. “What the hell?”

  Lyssa shouted out from across the room. “I took the last of it, Syd. Should I make a new pot?”

  “Sure thing, hon. Go for it.”

  They watched her twiddle with the carafe and the filter and the basket, punching buttons and watching the first drips hiss against the bottom of the glass pot.

  “So, what do you think?” Sydney prodded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can you fix her up with someone? It’s not like it is forever, so this one should be easy.”

  Suzie turned to fully face Sydney. “I’m not getting caught up in this. I’m exhausted after that last bout with Chris and Katie.”

  “But that worked out fine. Chris said yesterday morning they set a date. November, right? And Mary and Nash are already building a big cabin up in the mountains. Not to mention how you got Chelly and Matt back together. You’re good, Suzie. You can do this for Lyssa.”

  “I know. But she’s doing it for the wrong reason.”

  “Maybe you can turn things around for her.”

  Suzie shook her head. “I dunno. This will require…” She glanced again at Lyssa, who was waiting for the carafe to fill while inspecting her teeth in the wall mirror behind the counter. “Oh hell, face it Syd, Lyssa is just…different.”

  “But she’s a good person. Truly. Just a little high maintenance, is all.”

  Suzie snorted.

  “C’mon, Suze. You were never one to hold back on a challenge. Besides, I’ll help if you need me.”

  “What I really need is to get started on preparations for that party tonight.”

  “So say you’ll give it a thought, and then we’ll get busy.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Suzie forced a thin breath through her lips. “All right. I can find her a man but she’s got to stop eating. Those stretch pants remind me of bulldog pups under a picnic blanket.”

  Sydney snickered. “Remember, it doesn’t have to be the right man, Suzie, just a man who will marry her and then divorce her. That way she’ll be more respectable to the menfolk. At least, in her mind.”

  Lyssa turned and headed their way again, having just filled her mug. She sniffed the coffee aroma, settled back on her stool, and glanced to the edge of the counter. “What’s in the box, Suzie?”

  “Key lime tarts, blueberry scones, and my famous Cinna-Mocha Brownie Fudge Cupcakes.”

  Lyssa’s smile widened and her eyebrows popped up. “Oh?” She stood and leaned toward the box.

  Sydney laid a gentle hand on the lid. “They are for a party we’re catering this evening.”

  She turned to Suzie. “By the way, did Chelly get to Knoxville to get that dipping chocolate? I can’t make my dipped fruit without it.”

  Nodding, Suzie reached for the box, gathered it in her arms and started toward the back of the bakery. “Yes. She called and is on her way. I’d say she’ll be here about three. In the meantime…”

  She stopped. “Lyssa? What are you doing tonight? We could use another hand at the Talbert reception later. It’s at the Lodge.”

  Lyssa stared at her. “You mean. Work? Me?”

  Suzie closed her eyes.

  Sydney shook her head.

  “Excuse her, Lyssa.” Sydney’s sarcasm was thick. “Suzie totally forgot that ex-Homecoming Queens with trust funds do not work. How dare she?”

  “I do too work! I have a job and you know it! I am the best damned puppy nanny in Legend!”

  “You’re the only puppy nanny in Legend,” Suzie snapped. “And of course we know you work. I just thought maybe you’d like to pick up some extra cash and we could talk about your, um, man search.”

  “Man search?” Lyssa’s voice rose an octave. “Sydney, you told her?”

  “Well, I…”

  All at once, Lyssa plopped back on her stool and the tears spilled. “Damn you. Damn both of you. Will you never let me forget that queen thing? The old maid thing? The trust fund thing? Can I help it if my grandmother left me with a house and a little extra cash? And while we’re at it, can we also put a halt on the Lyssa-is-too-fat-and-will-never-find-a-man thing?”

  “That last one is all in your head, Lyssa Larkin, and you know it.” Sydney crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her.

  Lyssa snorted a sob and powdered sugar flew.

  “Oh hell.” Suzie put the box of pastries back down on the counter. “Lyssa Larkin, what the peach cobbler is wrong with you? You are making no sense. All I wondered is if you wanted to make a little cash. Your choice. I thought maybe you’d quit moping around and get out and have some social interaction. I’d forgotten about the Homecoming thing years ago, even if you did beat me out and you were only a sophomore. Still, all you ever had to do was bat those big brown eyes of yours and every teacher in the school and every boy on the football team came running to do your bidding. So, what’s the deal here, huh? Get out of this funk, forget the past, and if you know what’s good for you, quit eating those damned doughnuts!”

  All that said really didn’t make a difference because Lyssa took one more long look between the cousins and burst into tears again. This time, full throttle.

  “Shit.” Sydney’s hands fluttered into the air and she headed toward the back room. She heard Suzie talking some nonsense to Lyssa as she exited; something about drying her tears and meeting her at her house in the morning and figuring this all out.

  Lyssa whined something about having to pick up a dog in the morning from a client.

  At any rate, their voices faded as she heard the familiar tinkle of the bell over the door.

  “Thank God,” Sydney muttered. “Just get her out of my bakery before she eats me out of house and business!”

  Suzie had the patience of a saint. Sydney knew she, herself, had gotten the short end of the stick in that department when they passed out the Schul family patience gene.

  But Suzie…if anyone could knock some sense into Lyssa, and find her a man to divorce at the same time, she could.

  Chapter Two

  From: M. Roberts

  To: Alyssa Larkin

  Subject: Services desired beginning October 14

  Ms. Larkin:

  I am interested in your service. A one week period, perhaps a few days more. They are quite young, still, and need trained. I hope you can accommodate.

  M. Roberts

  ****

  The owner of the house at 223 Jacobs St., slightly north of downtown Legend, left a white envelope taped inside the front door. All of their communication prior to this day had been through email. M. Roberts had found Lyssa through one of the tear-off flyers she’d put on the bulletin board at The Pig, where she bought her groceries. A later email communication shared that the three-month-old Golden Lab pups needed care while the owner was
out of town on business.

  The emails were always short and to the point. All business.

  Just the facts, ma’am.

  Lyssa pulled the last email out of her purse; she’d printed it off before leaving the house lest she forget anything. She stood on the porch of the red brick home, glanced about her, and read through it one more time. She didn’t live on this side of town and was not familiar with the neighborhood. Still, it felt safe here, with older tree-lined streets and homes. Quiet and cozy.

  She didn’t know M. Roberts, either, and wondered about the owner of the pups. She supposed this person was new in town, but it really didn’t matter either way. A new client was a new client and she welcomed new clients.

  Laying a hand on the aluminum screen door handle, she opened it to snatch the white envelope off the door, just where the email said it would be. The envelope was heavy; a key was taped inside.

  Efficient, she thought. Taped so it wouldn’t fall out.

  The key glided into the lock and the knob turned with ease. The door swung open and within about one-point-two seconds flat, she was attacked by two giant yellow yapping fur balls.

  “Whoa…What?” She managed to close the door.

  The pups jumped and nipped at her calves.

  Hands on hips, she stared down at the little monsters. “Y’all are supposed to be in your crates!” She’d just read that again in M. Robert’s email. I have a very early flight. The dogs are in the crates in the kitchen. Their food is in a paper bag. Don’t forget their blankets. Take the portable crates with you, please. I’m training them to sleep there at night.

  Crates. Er, cages. She knew some dogs needed them, and it was highly recommended in some circles, but she was so against caging puppies!

  A quick glance to the kitchen and she spied the open crates. Next, she dropped her gaze to the round-eyed fur babies at her feet. “No wonder you escaped.” She noted the dog food—not in a paper bag by the door, but in fact, spread out wide across the entry hardwood floors. The bag was ripped to smithereens and the food scattered hither and yon.

  Lyssa stared at the twins. “Bad puppies!”

  They paid her no mind. One rolled over on his back, looking up at her, paws extended, eyes wanting, and waited for a belly rub. She grimaced. “You must be Paws. Your owner said you liked your tummy rubbed.” And she could quickly see that he was the male of the two, so indeed, that was Paws. The other plopped down on her belly, spread eagle and flat on the floor, and cocked her pretty little head toward Lyssa. “And of course, you are Buttercup.”

  Not able to stand it any longer, she fell to the floor beside them and scooped them both into her arms. They licked and wiggled and again, puppy-attacked her.

  She couldn’t help but giggle. What two wonderful bundles of love!

  Once the pups settled down, her gaze shifted right and left, taking stock of the puppy damage.

  “I’m sure your master is not going to be pleased by this, kids.” She rose and waddled toward the kitchen, just off the living room. Standing hands on hips, she looked at the crates.

  “Well, there they are, but how in heck did you get out of them?” She bent to look at the latch, and wondered if the owner had simply forgotten to make sure they were secure. “Oh well, nothing to do now but clean up the mess and get on with the day.”

  But before she did that, she let her gaze peruse her surroundings. Whoever lived here was otherwise meticulous. Everything had a place and was in it. The floors shined and the brushed nickel accessories sparkled. No dust. Not a crumb, even around the toaster.

  “Oh, hell’s bells,” she whispered. “My client is a neatnik, and we need to get this mess cleaned up pronto!” She always had to wonder about women who were neatniks and felt there was something a mite off-kilter in their brains. So, she shoved the golden duo in their crates, er, cages, for a few moments, promising them it was only short-term, found a broom, dustpan, and the garbage can, then set off to cleaning up the dry crumbles.

  It was when she bent over to scoop up the food pellets that her gaze rested on a picture of a man and woman perched on a table. The picture was several years old and the couple handsome and happy. She wore a full-length white wedding gown and he sported a stunning black tux. A bouquet of a dozen or so red roses in the bride’s hands completed the portrait.

  Rising, she took the photo in her hand and within the instant tears stung the corner of her eyes. This was the picture she longed for…one just like it to sit on a table in her own entryway.

  Her own man; her own black-tuxedoed hunk.

  For he was a hunk. With a light touch, she thumbed over his face.

  And the woman? Well, she was a very lucky woman.

  Lucky indeed.

  ****

  Thank goodness Suzie had a fenced-in backyard. Her little boy, Petey, was taking a nap, so Paws and Buttercup had free rein to run the length of the house and then some. She sat opposite Suzie on a bar stool in her kitchen and was suddenly in awe of her friend who was quickly becoming Legend’s most up-and-coming celebrity. Her first cookbook, The Best of Legend’s Landing Bed & Breakfast, was a bestseller and she’d heard there was even talk of a show on The Food Channel.

  Nevertheless, Suzie was still the same old Suzie.

  “I’ve made a list of potential suitors, Lyssa, and I want to go over it with you.”

  Lyssa pushed the list away. “Whoever is on that list doesn’t matter. Just find me someone to marry and divorce again in a couple of months, and all will be fine. Find someone with some sort of deficiency, you know? So when we do get the divorce it won’t look like it’s my fault. Maybe someone who drinks too much or has a history of hitting his girlfriends. Something like that. Of course I will have no clue and will discover it after the wedding, giving me just cause to get rid of the guy. I’ll get the divorce and the pity; the guy will get his freedom back.”

  Suzie’s lip twitched. Lyssa watched it. Once. And then again.

  “What?”

  After a deep breath and an even longer exhale, Suzie leaned forward. “Do you realize how shallow that sounds?”

  Her shoulders dropped. “Hell, Suzie, yes it probably does. I suppose I’m desperate.”

  “Feeling desperate does not mean you do desperate and unsafe things. We’re going to do this the classy way, Lyssa Larkin.”

  “So you won’t find me a man with a deficiency?”

  “No. I won’t do anything of the kind. I will find you respectable men because I won’t put you in any sort of danger. So, you can forget about men with deficiencies.”

  She leaned back and they met eye-to-eye for a frozen moment.

  “In fact,” she continued, “I will find you the best quality men I can find, set you up for a lunch date here every day for the next week, or two, or forty if it takes it, and you will like it. You will be nice to them and you will be appreciative of my efforts. Whoever you marry, it will be your doing, not mine, if you break his heart. I’m going to find you someone who is a keeper. Not someone you can fling away at your whim.”

  She crossed her arms and rocked back on her stool. “Now, do you want to look at this, or what?”

  Lyssa was a bit miffed that Suzie would speak to her so. However, she did have a point or two. “Oh, all right. Let me see the list.”

  Suzie shoved it her way and Lyssa gave it the once-over. Her head jerked up.

  “Oh. My. God. Suzie! You can’t be serious. Chad Helringer? He never graduated from high school! And he’s got to be like, fifty or older.”

  “Then mark him off. Go on. Read the rest.”

  Lyssa’s stomach turned. “Bart? Who works behind the meat counter at The Pig? My God, he’s got hands as big as boulders!”

  “Good hand muscles from cutting up all that meat.”

  “No, Suzie.”

  “All right. Keep reading.”

  She did. George Bloomer, gardener. No. Howard Pickles, ham radio operator. Oh hell.

  Peter Walker, grease monkey. No frea
kin’ way!

  She crumpled the list. “You can’t be serious.”

  Grinning, Suzie replied, “No. I’m not serious. That was the fake list.”

  “What?”

  “You can do better than any of those men, Lyssa, and I intend to find you your husband, one whom you will not divorce. So, tell me what you like in a man. Let’s make that list. And I’ll do the rest.”

  “I hate when you jerk with me.”

  “Hey, what are friends for? I want to set you on the right path.”

  Lyssa drew in a cleansing breath. “So how are you going to do this? I’m confused.”

  Suzie smiled wide and leaned closer. “Here is my plan. A speed-dating lunch a day. All you have to give him is thirty minutes. He gets a free lunch, and you get to decide when he leaves. We’ll have a signal. If you want him gone, all you have to do is give me the high sign and we’ll get him out of there. And it’s done. When you go past thirty minutes, then we’ll know that one has potential. Perhaps, the one you will marry.”

  Suzie sat back, satisfied. “What do you think?”

  Lyssa suddenly felt all warm and giddy inside. “I think it’s brilliant. When do we start?”

  “Tomorrow. Be here at noon.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  ****

  Lyssa sat cuddled on her sofa, with Paws and Buttercup flanking her, rubbing the tummy of one and the scalp of the other. At the moment she wasn’t sure who was who and it really didn’t matter. Glad for their company, they snuggled close while she stared glaze-eyed at a late night news broadcast.

  One of the pups breathed in and sighed. “Know the feeling, darlin’. Been a long day.”

  The one on the right snored softly.

  Laying her head back, she closed her eyes. Flashes of her day rolled by. Picking up the pups, cleaning up the dog food mess, meeting with Suzie and making plans.

  “Shit.” She uttered the word on a breath. “I’m doing this.”

  Beside her, her cell phone binged. Incoming email.

  She reached without disturbing her furry blankets of warmth and snatched the phone from the coffee table. With a flick of her wrist and a couple of thumb moves, she located her email and opened it.