Ms. Match Meets a Millionaire

by Pamela DuMond

  “That’s the guy?”

  She nodded.

  I made my way through the crowd toward them. I didn’t want to be matched to anyone else. I’d already found my match with Harper Emily Schubert. I didn’t want to interrupt her, but I’d catch her eye. And when I did, when it was my turn, I was never letting go of this woman again. Her ex already had his chance and he’d blown it.

  She didn’t see me, so engaged was she in conversation with him. But she frowned, and kept her distance from him. From the body language, it didn’t seem like a pleasant discussion. I figured I’d introduce myself but he came into view. I stopped walking.

  I already knew him.

  I knew Sean Kessler.

  Adrenaline kicked in and for a flash I couldn’t decide if I was going to throw up or beat him to death.

  But then it hit me that the girl I was falling in love with, Harper Emily Schubert, the earnest, beautiful girl from Wisconsin with the pouty lips had dated this abomination for seven months.

  I turned and walked away.

  I heard Harper calling after me. “Ethan? Ethan, can we talk?” but I kept on walking.

  Once upon a time I cared but life had worn me down.

  I found hope, but stumbled, and was once again raw, twisted, and broken.

  A chill went through me and my heart that had been pried open — closed back up.

  Chapter 36

  Harper

  *

  12 months ago

  *

  I never did pursue that new place to live. Sean and I just dropped the subject after a couple of days. I did check the mirror before I left the house, just to make sure I wasn’t wearing anything too low cut.

  I planned mom’s wedding on the cheapy-cheap just like I promised her. I scored budget decorations, rented the hall at St. Bernadette’s for a Thursday night the week before Thanksgiving, and hired an ancient priest to perform the ceremony. As a bonus, I scored a pretty vintage wedding dress for mom at a local second-hand store.

  I did all this in my spare time while working my day job at Mad City’s Wedding Planners. ‘Wedding’ might have been in our name, but we also organized holiday parties. Thanksgiving was coming up and repeat customers had already booked our services.

  The Monday night before mom’s wedding, Sean’s buddies came over to hang out in the basement, watch the football game, and play a little pool. In a weird twist, Bear had started hanging out with his crew after he bought a car from Kessler’s Autos.

  “Yo, Kessler, you’re coming out hunting with us this year, right?” Corey asked. He was still Sean’s best friend, but I hadn’t seen him since that crappy night at Hank’s.

  “Can’t,” Sean said, seated at the bar remote in his hand. He turned up the volume on the football game.

  I dropped off another plate of wings for the guys on the bar and leaned in next to Sean, bumping shoulders. “I’ll be at mom’s Wednesday through Friday if you change your mind on the wedding. St. Bernadette’s 6 p.m. in Oconomowoc this Thursday. Don’t you want to go to an incredibly boring mass?” I batted my eyes.

  He pulled me to him and smooched me on the lips. “Sorry, Babe. I know you live and breathe this stuff, but weddings make me claustrophobic.”

  “I’ll be in Oconomowoc Thursday,” Bear said. “Public safety re-licensure seminar.”

  “Stop by,” I said, and suddenly wanted to eat my words. “That is, if it’s all right with Sean.”

  He waved one hand in the air. “Don’t care.”

  “Weddings. Boring. I brought my new gun,” Corey said. “It’s in the truck. Let’s go out back and I’ll show you.”

  “Neighbors are watching the game,” Sean said.

  “They live an acre away,” Corey said, standing up. “Besides it’s halftime in twenty seconds. Packers are ahead. Come on, Sean. I just had it customized.”

  “We’ve got targets.” Bear picked up empty beer cans and tossed them into a plastic bag.

  “Harper?” Sean looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “I don’t care. I’ll work on wedding stuff.”

  *

  I borrowed white cotton tablecloths and crystal candle holders from Mad City Wedding Planners and drove to Oconomowoc two days later.

  We stayed up late the night before the wedding. Mom, Callie and I beautified with mani-pedis, and do-it-yourself facials. We pored over family scrapbooks and played ‘Do you Remember’.

  “Do you remember this one?’ Mom held up a picture of me with zits on my forehead and hair in Michael Jackson ringlets.

  “Yes!” Callie said. “That’s when Harper got the tragic perm.”

  “It grew out quickly,” Mom said.

  “It was trending, not tragic. Besides, I was thirteen.”

  The wedding day arrived. Multi-colored leaves fluttered through the chilly air when Callie and I dropped off mom at local beauty shop on Main Street. We picked up fading flowers from the florist and foil-covered trays of food from the diner. We were decorating the hall at St. Bernadette’s with yesterday’s flowers when Bear popped his head in.

  “Hey, am I in the right place?”

  “Yes!” I said and smiled at the cute, young blonde. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “You bet I did. I’m on a lunch break from my seminar,” he said and eyed my sister. “I’m assuming the wedding’s a bit later but I spotted your car out front and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Patrick Williams, meet Callie. Bear’s a fireman,” I said.

  “That’s cool,” she said, checking him out.

  I could practically see the sparks flying between them as they feigned indifference, and I decided to play matchmaker. “Callie’s transferring to U of W Whitewater next year. She’s thinking about going into biomechanics and kinesiology.”

  “I’d love to talk with you about your training,” she said.

  “The reception’s informal, Bear,” I said. “Stop by. You two can talk.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Hours later Callie and I walked Mom down the aisle and performed double duty as bridesmaids. Her intimate candlelit wedding to Mr. Greene was perfect, starting in St. Bernadette’s chapel right after the sun had set. The priest recited his lines: ‘To have and to hold.’ ‘Do you take?’ ‘By the power vested in me I now pronounce you…’ and then the boring part was out of the way. They kissed and Mom giggled.

  We’d decorated conference tables with white linen tablecloths, setting mirrored centerpieces on each filled with rose petals and votive candles. The happy couple sat at the front of the hall. One of mom’s friends had made the two-tiered round wedding cake that rested on a small table.

  I’d scored a DJ from a local bar on his off night. He set up in the corner and played his collection of dance classics. Beer and wine flowed. Mom danced with her new husband. I danced with Callie. Eventually she and Bear talked. I watched them as their heads drew closer together, and both grew more animated. The guests called it an early night around 10 p.m. and the DJ packed up and left.

  I was chief cook and bottle washer for this gig. I was already bussing the tables, throwing the paper plates and plastic into garbage bags, and wrapping up the leftovers to transport home.

  Mom squeezed my arm. “You need help?”

  “I do believe this is your night off.”

  “Hah! Thank you and Callie for making this day perfect.” She hugged me.

  “I love you, Mom. I’m just so glad you’re happy. Go!”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and wandered blissfully back to her new husband. He nodded at me and smiled as they left.

  Callie broke up her conversation with Bear and came over to me. “Need help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. I’m going to hit the bathroom and we’ll get it done. Bear’s cute!”

  “You’re welcome.” I winked at her and she practically skipped away.

  I balanced two trays and walked toward the exit. I heard a screech of tires outside and won
dered if the newlyweds were peeling out, in a hurry to get to their honeymoon at the lakefront B&B.

  “Let me help,” Bear said. “Hand me one of those.”

  “Just get the door,” I said. “And if you can grab my keys out of my purse that would be great.”

  He pushed the door open as we made our way into the parking lot. “Your sister, is she single?” He fumbled through my pretty wedding bag that hung from my shoulder.

  “Tragically.” The lot had emptied out. That’s why it was so easy to spot Sean’s new silver truck parked in the corner with the magnet across the side: Kessler’s Autos.

  He stumbled out of the pickup.

  “Sean?” I asked, confused. “I didn’t think you wanted to—”

  His pal Corey popped out of the driver’s side. “Unexpected road trip. Met some friends for Thursday night football. Decided to stop by but looks like the festivities are over.”

  Sean walked toward me. “Bear’s hanging all over you again, Harper?”

  “Get back in the truck, buddy,” Corey said.

  I swiveled and looked back at Bear with his hand in my purse. “No, he’s helping—”

  “Helping feel you up?” Sean staggered toward me. “Or is he moving on to the bigger event?”

  “Sean, no.” I clutched the food trays closer to my chest.

  Bear held my keys in the air. “Look. Car keys. Chill.” He walked the few feet to my car and opened the door.

  “Always an excuse. Always a reason.” Sean stumbled toward me, pulled a gun from his jacket. “Bitch needs to learn—”

  “Sean, no!” I said.

  “Not cool, Sean,” Corey said and did a double take. “Not cool at all. That’s my gun. Drop it.”

  But he didn’t. Instead he pointed it at my head.

  I dropped the foiled tins. Lasagna leftovers broke and splattered, red hunks flying everywhere. “Sean, no.”

  “My gun,” Corey said, moving slowly toward him. “Not cool. Drop it.”

  “Don’t do this, man.” Bear walked slowly toward him.

  Callie screamed from the doorway.

  “Get inside!” I yelled, my hands shaking.

  Bear and Corey converged on Sean at the same time. Corey yanked the gun from his grasp and Bear tackled him.

  “Fucking A!” Sean said, as he hit the pavement.

  “Call 911,” Bear said.

  “No, don’t!” Corey said. “He’s on probation. He overdid it. He’s jealous. Cut him a break.”

  “He’s a fucking menace,” Bear said.

  My heart pounded in my chest. Red sauce was splattered across the skirt of my dress. I raced back to Callie who was crouched in the doorway, fumbling for her purse.

  “Oh my God,” Callie said, her hands shaking. “Oh my God.”

  Corey popped his head inside the hall. “Nothing happened. Don’t call the cops.”

  “Nothing happened? He scared my little sister half to death. He aimed a gun at my head.”

  “Sean messed up a few years back. He has a record. I’ll make him go back to AA. His life will never be the same if you call the cops. I know you only dated him for the money, but if you ever cared about this guy, as his best friend, I beg you, let this go.”

  “I didn’t date him for—”

  “I’ll put you up at a hotel of your choosing. His family will give you first month’s rent and a down payment on a new apartment. They will pay to keep him out of jail.”

  “Screw you and screw his family’s money,” I said. “You okay, Callie?”

  She sniffled, burying her head in my shoulder. I wrapped one arm around her waist and helped her stand up. “I’m taking my sister home, Corey. Then I’m driving up to the house, packing my stuff, and leaving.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do not let Sean anywhere near the house tonight. If I don’t see or hear from him until I’m out of there, I won’t call the cops. If he shows up within ten feet of me or my family, the deal’s off.”

  “He won’t. I promise.”

  “And he is not allowed to call me. He is not allowed to contact me. I am done. Do you hear me? Done. And you tell him that when he wakes up tomorrow, I am never letting him back in my life ever again.”

  It was like ice water coursing through my veins at the same time adrenaline shot through my heart. I should have been scared but I was just plain furious. And maybe for once, for a change, anger was the right emotion. On a day I was supposed to remember with love and sweetness—righteous anger ruled the day.

  Chapter 37

  Harper

  *

  I left Sean at the table and raced after Ethan. I swear he heard me call his name, but he kept on walking. I didn’t know if it was the right time to tell him what happened, but for some reason it felt like it was past time.

  I exited the trattoria and saw him hailing a cab, but it passed him by. “Wait!” I called out.

  “I can’t Harper,” he said. He kept walking, typing into his phone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He swiveled and looked me with a mixture of shock and sadness. “Why didn’t you tell me you dated Sean Kessler?”

  Suddenly, part of me feared that they ran in the same circles; that people from money and privilege tended to congregate. I knew I was being irrational but why else would he look so upset?

  I walked toward him, the December night air suddenly feeling frostier. “Do you know Sean? How do you know Sean?”

  “You first,” Ethan said. “What was he doing here tonight?”

  “He wants a second chance. But I already told you—I’m done.”

  “Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance, Harper? Did he cheat on you? Did he hang out with the guys too much? Did he not like to do the things you liked to do?”

  My heart pounded, my breath quickened, and I felt dizzy—like being on top of the roller coaster before it plummeted. “Sean does not deserve a second chance. He hit me. He aimed a gun at my head.”

  Ethan’s face crumpled right there in front of me. He held a hand to his head for a second, as if his head hurt just thinking about it. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  I felt lighter, relieved, having said those words out loud to Ethan. I reached for his hand, took it in mine, and squeezed it. “Yeah, I am too.”

  But Ethan pulled away from me. His eyes darkened and his lips tensed. “Then why isn’t he in jail right now? Why isn’t he serving time?”

  “I didn’t call the cops. His friend begged me not to call the police. He said Sean had gotten drunk and made a mistake.”

  “You let it go? He aimed a gun at you and you just let it go?” A taxi pulled over and Ethan walked toward it.

  I followed him, desperate to keep up with him. “No. I didn’t just let it go. I realized it was abuse. It was a pattern.”

  “You think?” Ethan opened the cab door and stepped inside.

  “Yes. I packed my things and got out that night. I knew I couldn’t stay anywhere near him. I quit my job the next day. I moved to a different city. A different state. Why are you so mad at me?”

  “Because Harper, Sean Kessler belongs in jail. Sean Kessler shot my girlfriend. She died. And you not only dated him, you let him get away with violence a second time. You think you’re not giving Sean Kessler a second chance—but you already did.” He slammed the door shut and the cab peeled away from the curb.

  I burst into tears. I was in a hell of my own making, and I knew in my very broken heart that nothing I could say or do would ever fix this.

  Chapter 38

  Ethan

  *

  I got home and chartered a private jet to Aspen. The next morning I packed a suitcase for myself and three for Marte. I popped her on board and we flew to the pristine mountain ski resort for Christmas. I nursed a scotch on the flight there and had about three plus hours to think about everything that had gone down.

  Sean Kessler was Harper’s ex-boyfriend. Sean Kessler was also the monster that had killed my Zoey,
and gotten a slap on the wrist sentenced to minimum jail sentence and then probation.

  There were strict laws as to how deer hunting season played out. The dates you could hunt. Doe vs. Buck. Gun vs. Bow and Arrow. But Sean Kessler and his buddy didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that. They got wasted while they watched a game, egged each other on, and headed out to the marsh to shoot something. Anything. Plenty of animals in the marsh. Turkeys, skunks, rabbits.

  They commandeered a stand built by a legitimate hunter who owned the property and picked off a few squirrels and a raccoon. But they were hoping for a deer. Much more fun to shoot something big when you’ve got a sizeable amount of steam to blow off. The problem was, it wasn’t yet deer hunting season and they didn’t have licenses. The bigger problem was that they were drunk and entitled.

  That late afternoon on Green Marsh trail, Sean Kessler saw movement and thought he’d lucked out and spotted a deer. He lifted his gun, aimed, and shot Zoey in the chest. His family had the money to hire the best lawyers to negotiate a plea deal for their scum son. His buddy, who was now in jail serving time for manslaughter, followed up with the shot that killed her.

  Post-mortem determined the first bullet had punctured her lung. The second penetrated her heart. And this was how my happily-ever-after died. Not after thirty years of benign neglect, but collapsed in the weeds, assassinated with a bullet to the heart. It disappeared in a ragged breath with a broken promise and last words clinging to cold blue lips.

  Contrary to the turbulence inside me, the flight from Chicago to Aspen went smoothly and we touched down ahead of time. Daniel sent a town car to pick us up at the Pitkin County airport and drive us to his place in town. The village was picturesque, covered in snow with cute trendy shops, and the right mixture of singles, families, and holiday cheer. Daniel was right. Aspen was the perfect place to go for the Christmas holidays.

  I got Marte squared away at the townhouse and spent the rest of the afternoon skiing. I worked my way from the moderate blue runs to the black diamond slopes, attempting to clear the cobwebs in my brain and trying to wrench the knife out of my heart. After four hours, I skied back to the residence and shook off the snow.