Perfect Match

by Fern Michaels

  “Not exactly. My life hasn’t been one . . . oh, let’s not go there today.”

  “Okay, we won’t go there today, but we are going to go there one day. Is this the first year that you are going to close Rootie Tootie’s for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?”

  Arnold laughed. “It was your idea. You said decorate. I said okay. John said close, and I said okay. You said private Christmas party, and I said okay. It wasn’t my idea, but now that I have agreed, I am actually looking forward to it. I’m thinking it’s my first real Christmas. With real friends.”

  Beth laughed as she squeezed more oranges. “I bet Denny’s and the Cozy Corner Café loved you when you asked for breakfast and dinner gift vouchers for your . . . um . . . flock.”

  “They did indeed.” Arnold laughed. He really liked his new friend. He looked forward to meeting her brother and best friend, Gracie, and the miracle dog. As well as the cranky man called Moose. Beth had assured him they would all travel to Nashville for a big, old-fashioned Christmas. When he was alone in his apartment at night, and he thought about it, he got so excited he could hardly stand it. It was almost like he had a real family. He didn’t tell anyone, but he had gone on the Internet and researched family Christmases so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.

  “Are we going to string popcorn and cranberries on garlands?”

  “You bet. Hope you’re handy with a needle,” Beth quipped.

  Arnold hoped he was, too. How hard could that be? He laughed out loud.

  “FedEx should be arriving by ten this morning. I asked Gracie to send me all my mom’s Christmas decorations. Jake was never into it, so I claimed them all. All of the junk we made when we were kids goes on the tree. Wait till you see it all. Sometimes it makes me cry, the memories are so vivid. Every ornament, every whatever, has a story or a memory. I hope Jake remembers. I want this Christmas to be special for him. I ordered a skateboard for him for Christmas.”

  Arnold laughed so hard, the tears rolled down his cheeks. Yessiree, he really loved this young woman. In a brotherly, avuncular, fatherly kind of way. He felt the same way about John. He wondered if what he felt for these two young people was what a parent felt. He rather thought it was. And now he was beyond excited that he was going to see and help decorate a Christmas tree for the first time in his life.

  Life was good. Very good. Super good. Really, really, really good.

  By nine-thirty, the kitchen was clean and tidy and everything put back in its place. “Time to call Mr. Moose, Beth.”

  Beth nodded. “I’ll call Moose and put him on speaker so you can hear firsthand how things are going. Okay?” Arnold nodded as he handed Beth a cup of fresh coffee.

  “So, Moose, how’s it going?” Beth asked.

  “Well, it’s going, Beezer. He’s walking, not much, but he’s walking. Gizmo is right there with him. I swear by all that is holy, that dog is the best thing that ever happened to Jake. When he slumps, he’s right there to prop him up. Yesterday, he was telling the other soldiers about the last Super Bowl, and he fell asleep. Giz got right up there in his face and barked in his ear to get with the program. No pain no gain, you know how that works. Gracie lets me take him every day. The guys love it, and so does he. Did she ever tell you what goes on there?”

  “No, not really. Tell me.” She winked at Arnold and wiggled her eyebrows to indicate he should pay attention.

  “Well, the dog goes in wearing his protective gear with all his medals and his dog tags. The top dog in the center, meaning the guy that runs the joint, blows a whistle, and yells real loud, ‘Officer on deck!’ Now they know that’s a navy saying, but he does it anyway. The reason being Gizmo was awarded a field promotion to lieutenant, but the paperwork didn’t go through until after . . . well you know, after. So Gizmo doesn’t recognize the term lieutenant and only responds to sergeant. Everyone stops what they’re doing, comes to attention, and salutes Giz. He eats it up. The dog’s a big ham. He snaps off a salute himself, barks, and then it’s business as usual.”

  Beth risked a look at Arnold, who was holding his sides and laughing uproariously. She’d never seen this side of the little man.

  “So what are the doctors saying, Moose?”

  “That Jake is progressing beyond their expectations. When he starts to slack, Giz nips him in the butt. He’s good, Beth. Really good. I didn’t tell him yet about Christmas. I want it to be a surprise. The doctors say he can’t do that long of a road trip, so we’re flying. Jake can afford to take us all in a private plane, he just doesn’t know it yet. I do not foresee a problem. Oh, one other thing. He’s got just about every paper, every file you sent him memorized. He does his cadence to your instructions. Giz cheers him on.”

  “Has Gracie been to see him?”

  “No. She calls, though, to talk to the dog. I swear, he listens and barks an answer, different barks, different tones. Some sharp, some medium. Whatever, they seem to communicate well even if it is over the phone. Gracie does miss him, though. And the dog misses her. When he’s done for the day, he goes by the door and waits. She calls every day, sometimes two or three times.”

  “Okay, that all sounds good, Moose. Don’t say I called.”

  “I told him you were at the hospital. He didn’t believe me. He asked the doctor, and when he said yes, I swear, Beezer, his eyes filled up.”

  “Well, I have some stuff to do, so I’ll hang up now,” Beth said with a catch in her voice. “Hug Giz for me. Tell him I miss him, okay?”

  “Will do, Beezer, will do.”

  “I can’t wait to meet that dog,” Arnold said.

  Beth looked at the little man and smiled. “He’s as big as you are.”

  Arnold laughed just as the front door opened. The FedEx driver wheeled in three huge boxes on a dolly. “Delivery for Beth Masters; you gotta sign for it, lady.”

  Beth scrawled her signature on some kind of black box and looked at Arnold.

  “One Christmas, coming up.”

  “Can we open them now, so I can see it all?” Excitement rang in the little man’s voice.

  “Absolutely. Oh, oh, I hear a truck out back. You open the boxes, and I’ll have the guys bring in the trees and evergreens,” Beth said, pure happiness ringing in her voice.

  Arnold Stonebridge wasn’t sure if he had died and gone to heaven or was dreaming as he slit the tops of the huge boxes with a paring knife from the kitchen. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied that he was alone, he did a little hop, skip, and twirl-around jig. Then he clapped his tiny hands like a little kid.

  Life was good.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  While Beth regaled Arnold with stories of each Christmas ornament Gracie had sent on, two of his handymen were busy setting up the four live balsam firs that had just been delivered. Beth pounded nails and hooks into every place in the vast club that could hold a swag or garland of the delicious-smelling evergreens. She swooned at the scent as she remembered other Christmases when she was young. One in particular was when she was ten years old and woke in the middle of the night, trying to figure out what she was smelling that was so wonderful.

  Arnold was holding a Popsicle-stick figure with glued-on cotton balls. On the back it said Jake Masters and the date he’d made it. “Oh, it smells so . . . so . . .”

  “Christmasy!” Beth giggled.

  Arnold stood in the center of the club and looked around, the stick figure in his tiny hands. “I didn’t know this is what Christmas was supposed to smell like. I like it. It’s . . . it’s . . .”

  “Wonderful?” Beth giggled again. “The most wonderful time of year in my opinion. Okay, I’m going to call you Arnold now because I see you get it. You have finally let your hair down and stopped being so reserved. Now you’re Arnold.”

  “Is that what you thought?” Arnold asked curiously. “That I was reserved?”

  “Yes and no,” Beth said as she hammered home a nail and hooked one end of a garland around the nail. “I think i
t was, is, a defense mechanism. I’m just ordinary, Arnold. You can be yourself around me. Today, we are both going to act like little kids and get this place fixed up like a Christmas wonderland. I want to stand with you up in your apartment and look down on the floor when the crowd comes in tonight. No one is expecting to see the magic we are going to perform, starting right now. You get to hang the ornaments on the lower branches, I’ll do the middle, and your people can do the top. That big, old, fluffy, ragged-looking angel has seen better days, but it’s still going on top of the big center tree. I personally glued every one of those cotton balls on the frame. My mom said it was the most beautiful angel she’d ever seen.”

  “And she was right. We shall treat this angel with all the respect she deserves.”

  “The worst part of all this is untangling the strings of lights and getting them sitting perfect on the tree. These are the old-fashioned kind, where the bulbs burn out. If that doesn’t happen at least twice during the Christmas season, then Christmas is a bust. That’s what my dad used to say. Your people can do that—the stringing of the lights, I mean. Oh, Arnold, wait till you see these trees when the lights come on. It’s like magic.”

  “Do you think John will be upset that we started without him?”

  “Maybe a little, but he’ll get over it. He should be here soon unless the café is extra busy today. Usually, by now he’s texting me saying he’s on his way home.”

  “Maybe we should wait till he gets here. Let’s go into the kitchen, and I’ll make us some of my special Kona coffee. I got a gift packet sent to me years ago by one of my favorite singers, and I’ve been hooked on it ever since. While we wait for John, you can tell me about your childhood Christmases. And John’s.”

  “Only if you tell me about yours,” Beth quipped.

  “There’s nothing to tell, Beth. The people who raised me didn’t believe in anything, especially Christmas. It was just another day. I used to cut out pictures from magazines and papers and put them together and try to envision what it was like. Sad to say, I never felt anything. So, this is a first for me, and for that, I thank you.”

  Beth felt like crying for some reason. “We’re going to sing carols,” she said inanely.

  Arnold laughed. “You can’t sing, Beth.”

  “What was your first clue?” Beth grinned.

  “When you fessed up,” Arnold chortled. “You just sit there and text John to see how late he’s running while I get the coffee ready. You might want to check in with your Mr. Moose, too.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Beth said as she pulled out her phone.

  John was cashing in his tips with the owner of the Cozy Corner Café when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Probably Beth wanting to know why he was running late. He’d check the message on his way out.

  “Good day today,” the owner, Tess Glassman, said as she counted out bills and deposited the loose change and bills in the register.

  John accepted the bills, folded them, then buried them in his pocket next to his cell phone. “See ya tomorrow, Miss Glassman.”

  “Have a good day, John.”

  John stood to the side to let the last few customers leave ahead of him. It was his job to close the blind on the door and turn the sign that read OPEN to CLOSED. He knew Miss Glassman would lock up behind him. It was a good day. He’d made $140 in tips, almost twice what he’d made on other days. But it was, after all, the Christmas season, and people tended to be a little more generous at this time of year.

  John stood under the overhang for a moment as he watched the crowds of shoppers hustling along with their bulging shopping bags. He should think about what he was going to get Beth for Christmas....

  Something suddenly felt off to him. He likened it to the feeling he had in Iraq, before he would set out on a patrol. He’d learned back then to pay attention to his sixth sense, something up until then he attributed to women only. Now, if he were a spy, like in one of those espionage novels he was addicted to, he’d practice his tradecraft and know instantly something or someone was out there waiting to pounce on him.

  He was already running fifty minutes late. Beth was going to pitch a fit to be sure. He’d given her his word he’d be there to help decorate the club. Still, something wasn’t feeling right, so he stood rooted in place under the overhang. It was really cold, so he started to stamp his feet and blow on his hands as he let his gaze go up and down the street. Just people. Nothing was jumping out at him. Go? Don’t go? He hunched into his down jacket and flew out of the doorway and headed straight for the middle of the road so he could run the distance to the club. No way could he traverse the crowded sidewalks with all the shoppers. While there was traffic on the road, it was minimal, and he could hear a car if it came too close. Crap! He’d forgotten to check his text message. By now Beth must be wild with worry. Ten minutes tops, and he’d be at the club. If he kissed her till her teeth rattled, she’d forgive him. Hopefully.

  It all happened so quickly, John was hard-pressed later on to tell the authorities what happened. One minute he was running full tilt trying to get to the side of the road when a car horn blasted his eardrums. The next minute, he felt a searing pain in his left side, and he was lying on the ground with people yelling and screaming as car doors slammed open. He tried to get up but couldn’t move. He heard someone shout to call 911. He wondered if the call was for him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. When he opened his eyes, he saw Jim Mack hovering over him. He knew his coat was open because he could feel the cold and someone poking him and pressing at his side. Because . . . because . . . something felt warm and wet. Why would his side be warm and wet?

  “EMS is on the way, John. That bastard stabbed you, but my guys got him. Well, Mr. Stonebridge’s guys got him. The cops are on the way. Hang on, John. You’re gonna be okay, but you’re losing blood. You hear me, John? Hang on.”

  John felt so woozy. Someone had stabbed him. Who? Beth was going to be so pissed. He was late, and now he was going to be even later if he had to go to the hospital. “Call Beth,” he whispered. “She’s going to be mad because I’m so late. She hates it when I’m late.”

  “I already called her. She’ll meet us at the hospital, and no, she isn’t mad.”

  Mack stood and watched the ambulance careen down the street. The EMS guys flew out of the ambulance and took over. Minutes later, John was on a gurney and being loaded into the ambulance. Mack watched until the driver turned on the siren and the ambulance was out of sight before he approached Stan and Keith, who had Luke Olsen handcuffed to the car door. Two police officers were pushing the crowd of lookie-lous back to the sidewalk as their partners took charge of Olsen, who was babbling about teddies, Victoria’s Secret, and guys who just didn’t belong in his universe.

  The moment the crowd thinned out, Jim Mack led the guys back to where they were parked. “You guys did good. Great job. Now if John had stuck to the sidewalk, I think it would have been a different story. Olsen could have gotten away. You know what they say, everything happens for a reason. John’s going to be okay. The down jacket’s thick padding saved him. In a couple of days, he’ll be good as new. I’ll follow you guys to the precinct, and from there, after we give our statements, we’ll head to the hospital.”

  It was five-thirty when John opened his eyes to see a sea of concerned faces. He felt a warm hand covering his. Beth. He could smell her shampoo, like coconut and summer breezes. He smiled.

  He looked off to the side and saw Arnold Stonebridge. He frowned. “They said you never leave the premises, sir. What are you doing here?” At least that’s what he thought he said, but his mouth felt like it was full of sand.

  “Well, technically that’s true, but when a friend such as yourself ends up here, I had no other choice. I like to see certain things with my own eyes as opposed to having someone tell me what’s going on. And Beth needed company.” John thought the little man’s voice sounded cheerful. That had to mean he was okay.

  John’s eyelids
drooped. He was so tired. He heard someone say he’d lost a lot of blood. “What about dinner? The decorating? The band, the club?” he muttered.

  “Oh, that! I shut it down and put a sign on the door. My people are taking care of things. Right now, that isn’t important. You are what’s important.”

  John wanted to say something complimentary, something important to the little man, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips. He wanted to say what he felt, but his eyes closed. He felt Beth’s hand squeeze his as he drifted into a restful sleep.

  “He really is going to be all right, isn’t he, Jim?” Beth asked anxiously.

  “Right as rain in a few days. They’re keeping him overnight, and they said you have to leave. All of us have to leave. I engaged the services of a private-duty nurse, who will stay with him until he is discharged.”

  “What about that evil person who did this to him?” Arnold asked.

  “He is behind lock and key. The detective I spoke with said he was out of it, babbling nonsense. They have a call in to mental health professionals and, of course, they called his parents. Surprise, surprise, the parents didn’t seem one bit concerned and said they would get back to the detectives.

  “I clued the police in on what’s been going on. Tomorrow, they want you, Beth, to go down to the precinct and give a statement. I’ll take you. They’ll talk to John here at the hospital first thing in the morning before he’s discharged.”

  “I think this calls for a celebration of sorts,” Arnold said, as he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his overcoat. “By that I mean I think we should all celebrate back at the club by finishing up the decorating and maybe ordering some pizza. I can make us some eggnog. I think that’s what you drink during the holidays. Does that work for everyone?” Everyone said it did.

  “Really, Jim, it’s over? I mean, I don’t have to worry about John or myself any longer?”

  “Safe as can be. Luke Olsen won’t be going anywhere for a very long time. If he gets the help he needs, he might make a full recovery, but there is that attempted murder charge they’re leveling at him, unless some smart defense lawyer goes with the insanity plea. Just get on with your life and don’t look back. That’s my advice.”