Chapter 2—Sharpening the Skates

Steph had never worked a real day job. One where you went to the office, sat at a desk, performed your tasks, and went home at a set time. In high school she’d done some volunteer work in the church office where her father was pastor, and she could type. This would be different, though. She wasn’t sure what to expect from Agnes. She doubted working for her would be as dull as it’d been at the church.

Almost a week later, on a Thursday morning, she walked the seven long blocks to Agnes’s turn-of-the-century mansion, conveniently located in the same old-money neighborhood as Steph’s studio apartment above Izzy and Cooper Black’s garage. Several large maples lined the streets, and orange and yellow leaves crunched under the sensible black flats she’d purchased yesterday at Walmart. The trees towering over her and had to be as old as the houses. What changes had these trees seen in their lifetimes? They were still here, strong and regal. They bent in the wind and grew their roots deep into the earth. They’d seen the city grow exponentially over the years. What would they say if they could talk?

It was a chilly fall day, but at least it was clear and not raining, a fact for which she was grateful, since she didn’t have a car. Riley Black, Coop’s teenage nephew, had volunteered to drive her on his way to school, but she’d graciously turned him down. She’d probably avail herself of his services once the weather turned nasty. For now, she enjoyed the walk.

She checked the addresses as she strolled past. Each house was large and stately, separated from the street by wide expanses of lawn with winding driveways. Most were barely visible through the large trees and bushes that had grown up over the past century.

Her thoughts drifted from her first day on the new job to her brief phone interview with Agnes. They’d talked easily about all sorts of things until Agnes started questioning her about her childhood. She’d answered as truthfully and briefly as possible, even though she didn’t understand what any of that had to do with this job. Steph had left a gap from high school to six months ago, hoping Agnes didn’t notice. She’d artfully dodged questions about her family in the present tense, since she no longer had a family.

There’d been a time when God and family had been all she’d needed, along with a few good friends. She’d been so naïve and sheltered in those days. Sometimes she wished she could turn back time and undo all the mistakes she’d made since her senior year. But she couldn’t.

She’d rarely done anything that didn’t revolve around the church and church activities. Maybe that was why she’d fallen under Gino’s spell and gone from a model daughter and student to a rebellious teen who eventually ran off to seek her happily ever after. What a fool she’d been.

Steph sighed and checked the address on the brick pillar at the bottom of another winding driveway. This was the house. The large wrought iron gate was open, as if welcoming her. She walked up and halted in her tracks as the house came into view.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but definitely not this. The house belonged on a Southern plantation. She didn’t know such houses existed in Seattle. No, she corrected herself, not a house, but a mansion. A colonial three-story mansion with huge pillars on a wide front porch, veranda, or whatever those things were called, and a balcony running the length of the second story.

She’d never seen anything so stately and grand.

Steph swallowed the paralyzing fear that she might be in over her head. She forced her feet to move forward one step at a time until she was standing in front of massive oak double doors. She rang the doorbell with a shaking hand. Several seconds later, a uniformed butler answered. He was tall, thin, bald, and bespectacled. He bowed low and spoke in an English accent, no less. The man was so ancient that she feared he might not be able to straighten his spine after his low bow, but he stood easily.

“Ah, Madam Clarke, come with me, please. Agnes is waiting for you.” The fact that he called Agnes by her first name was more surprising than him calling Steph by her last.

She followed him into a two-story grand entryway, complete with a sweeping staircase to a landing above, and down a marble hall to another set of double doors. He swept them open with a flourish.

“Please wait here. Agnes will be with you soon.” He indicated an ornate antique couch with a wave of his hand.

“Thank you.” Steph stepped into the large study lined with books, many appearing ancient. The butler shut the door behind him.

The room was deadly silent except for the ticking of a massive grandfather clock. She eyed the couch, which wasn’t the least bit inviting and should be in a museum. Walking past the stuffy old furniture to the wall of windows, she gazed at a garden as grand as the inside of the house. It might be fall, but no one had told the roses blooming along the slate-lined path to a gazebo surrounded by towering cedar and madrona trees. Beyond the gardens and expansive lawn were the glittering waters of Puget Sound.

The door opened, and Steph turned, a forced smile plastered on her face. She did a double take. The senior citizen standing on the threshold wasn’t Agnes. She looked like Agnes, yet different. Very, very different. While Agnes dressed in that understated, classy manner of most wealthy older women, this woman wore a kaftan in swirling colors. Her lips were bright crimson, and her green eyes were both young and old. Her vibrant red hair stood on end, making her look like a geriatric punk rocker. Yet somehow the entire guise fit her quite well.

“Hello,” Steph said, and nervously wiped her sweaty hands on her pants.

The woman stopped several feet away, propped her hands on her hips, and looked Steph up and down. She harrumphed and sighed. “I guess you’ll do.” Turning on the heel of her shiny biker boots, she left the room.

Steph gawked at the closed door, her mouth hung open, but no words would come out. What had just happened? Before she had time to process the bizarre encounter, the door opened again, and Agnes entered, dressed in a cream knit pantsuit with matching flats. Diamonds adorned her fingers and a tasteful diamond pendant hung around her neck.

“I see you’ve met Iona. She’s my baby sister.”

“Ah, she didn’t exactly introduce herself.”

Agnes arched a perfectly penciled dark brow. “I was under the impression she liked you, and Iona doesn’t like many people.”

“She did say I’d do.”

“That’s an extreme compliment from Iona. She’s not touchy-feely like me.”

Steph almost choked but managed to keep a straight face.

“Are you ready to get started?”

“Absolutely.”

“We need background checks run on each of these women before we’ll consider them for possible client matches.”

“We?”

“Yes, Iona and I are in the matchmaking business together.”

“I see.”

Agnes shot her a knowing glance. “You probably don’t, but you will.”

Steph almost cringed. That statement sounded ominous. “Would you like me to fill out any employment forms?” She braced herself, hoping they wouldn’t require it.

“No, forms mean nothing. People of character do not need forms, and I know you are of good character.”

“Okay.”

An hour later, Steph had finished background checks on a half-dozen women and written reports on each, listing any questionable findings. She also Googled them, just to go the extra mile. One of the women had been a stripper during her college years, and Steph pointed that fact out to Agnes and Iona.

“Well, damn, and she looked to be a promising match for Mr. Klein,” Iona said.

“I told you there was something about that girl when we met her,” Agnes said.

Iona rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nevertheless, we can’t have possible dates with a mark against them other than a parking ticket.”

“Not even a parking ticket, especially unpaid ones. It shows a lack of responsibility.”

“And what does stripping show?” Steph asked in a small voice.

“Too much.” Iona chortled, and Agnes joined in.

Steph cringed and ducked her head. Heat rushed to her face. If these two women ever ran a background check on her or did any digging, she could kiss this job goodbye. She sighed and pushed that negative thought into the same place she banished all negative thoughts—the deep recesses of her brain—and hoped it stayed there.

She looked up to find Agnes watching her like a mama eagle eyeing its prey. She refused to squirm under the assessing gaze. Agnes couldn’t know, just couldn’t. Even if she did claim to be clairvoyant, usually visions weren’t specific. Or so Steph hoped. Not that she knew much about it other than watching psychics on reality TV. Whatever their powers might be, they didn’t extend to mind-reading, or she’d be fired by now. She relaxed a little, relieved her secret was safe for another day.

Steph worked until noon, after which she was dismissed for the day while her two bosses readied themselves for afternoon tea at the country club. Steph couldn’t imagine such a life of leisure. She’d be bored without something meaningful to do, but perhaps their charity work and matchmaking filled the void. They both seemed content, more so than Steph had been until lately.

She walked back to her studio apartment full of equal doses of hope and dread. Pulling her cell out of her pocket for the first time in four hours, she checked for messages.

There was a text from Vi inviting her over. The Sockeyes were on a road trip, so Vi was alone with her two little boys. Steph tapped out a response before she clomped up the stairs, unlocked her door, and went inside. The tidy, compact space included a living area, small dining nook, and a kitchen. Behind a screen was a bed and a door to a small bathroom with a tiled shower.

Steph loved this place. She felt safe here, and content for the first time in way too long. Despite being over the Blacks’ garage, the studio was private and furnished with a comfy couch and large armchairs in a cheerful floral print. A set of French doors opened onto a small deck with a view of Puget Sound through the tall cedars and madronas on the property.

Steph flopped onto the couch and ran through the past few days’ events in her mind. Her life was turning around, and she’d do everything in her power to shield herself from her past and keep those awful years where they belonged—to someone else. Not her. She wasn’t that person anymore. She’d reclaimed the Steph she’d been in high school: naïve, hopeful, and positive, with nowhere to go but forward. The handful of friends who knew the truth, or the partial truth, would never betray her.

As long as she could keep her past in the past, life would be good.

But could she? Or was she foolish to believe Gino that her secrets would forever remain buried?

 

* * * *

After a week, Steph was getting the hang of her new job. Between the office work and the party crashing, she’d be able to save a little money for a future education. Not that she knew what she wanted to do with her future, but she would do something, and most careers required education. She wasn’t interested in a four-year degree, but maybe chef school, photography, or wedding planning. None of those choices excited her, exactly, but she’d think of something. She loved to read, but reading books didn’t pay bills. She’d loved to work in a bookstore. Then again, bookstores were closing all over because people were buying digital.

Twenty-three years old, and she was at a loss as to what she’d like to do with her life. She sighed.

Interview forms for possible matches leaned in a haphazard pile on the desk. The sisters preferred to fill the forms out on paper, and Steph typed the info into the database, which, as far as she could tell, they never looked at.

She worked all morning, losing complete track of time. Finishing the last form, she glanced at the large grandfather clock. Almost noon. She usually left by noon, but Agnes had asked to talk to her. After another half-hour of waiting, Agnes and Iona came in the door. Both were dressed for an outing, Agnes in one of her sweater suits and Iona in one of her colorful caftans.

“Steph, dearie, we have a favor to ask. We need you to stay past noon. We’ll pay time and a half.” Agnes was at her most charming, meaning she wanted something.

“That’s not necessary,” Steph replied. “It’s still under eight hours, and I’d be glad to stick around if you need me.”

“We have a client coming in this afternoon and completely forgot about him. Would you mind putting in a few extra hours doing his interview? We both have an appointment.” The two sisters shared a meaningful look. Steph might be gullible, but she also knew when something was being kept from her.

“I guess so.” She regarded them suspiciously. Things didn’t add up. They always met with the clients personally.

“Oh, and Steph, we need you to sign this form.”

Strange was getting stranger. “I thought you didn’t believe in employment forms?”

“Only this one,” Iona said quickly. She placed the form in front of Steph. “It’s really for your own protection, since you’ll be interviewing a client. We, of course, trust you implicitly.”

“Of course,” Agnes said. She shoved a pen in Steph’s face. “Now if you’ll sign, we can be on our way.”

Steph stared at the form. It was a simple, one-page form stating employees of Forever Matched would maintain a professional relationship and not have a physical relationship with clients. Violation of this agreement would result in immediate termination.

Steph signed it without an issue. She didn’t want a guy in her life, and the sisters were protecting her. It would give her an easy out if the situation ever arose. She handed the paper to Agnes, who passed it to Iona, who stuffed it in her huge purse.

“Do I need to know anything about this client before he shows up?”

“No, nothing,” Agnes said. “You’re familiar with our questions. We’ll do an in-person interview at his convenience within the next week.”

“Giles will bring in lunch for you,” Iona added.

Before Steph could argue, they were gone, chattering and laughing all the way out the door. Giles delivered finger sandwiches, which were incredibly delicious, a pitcher of ice water with lemon, and a steaming ceramic pot of tea.

Once Steph finished, she tidied up the library, checked her makeup, and waited. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being played in some manner by the sisters, yet she couldn’t figure out what their angle could be. Why didn’t they have her sign the form initially instead of now? They were both sharp as they came, and Steph hadn’t noticed in any forgetfulness in either of them.

She was probably reading too much into the day’s events.

All she needed to do was do the initial client interview, fill out the questionnaire with his answers, and call it a day. They’d do the rest.

Simple. Easy. Straightforward.

* * * *

 

Jared turned up the curved driveway of what could only be called a stately old mansion. The well-groomed grounds and impeccably maintained exterior of the house drove home how wealthy the owners were and where their priorities lay.

He’d met Ethan’s great-aunt Agnes a few times at one of the many events held by the Sockeyes over the past few years. She was a firecracker, and he could’ve sworn she’d pinched his butt one time. He’d been standing in a crowd, and she walked by. When he’d felt the pinch, he’d looked over his shoulder. There were multiple women nearby who could’ve done it, but only Agnes winked at him.

He parked his Toyota and walked up the slate walkway onto the front porch, which covered the entire front of the home. After ringing the doorbell, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, oddly nervous. This was stupid. He had nothing to be nervous about. He was looking for his lifetime partner, his soul mate, his forever love. If this achieved his goal, he’d do it. Besides, the unpredictable McIntyre sisters were a force to be reckoned with. He dared any gold digger to attempt to be matched with one of their clients. The outcome would be messy at the least, and brutal at most.

He grinned at a momentary vision of what they’d have done to Candy if they’d gotten their hands on her. It wouldn’t have been pretty.

Stay focused. Stick with the mission.

A tall, thin man with a shiny bald head opened the door. “Ah, Mr. Roderick, come in, please.”

Jared followed the man into a large study with floor-to-ceiling windows and fussy antique furniture. A blonde sat at a large library desk tapping away on a keyboard, her face obscured behind a mammoth computer monitor.

He heard the click of the door behind him and knew the butler had left them alone.

The blonde glanced up and stood. She smiled at him, but her smile lacked confidence. He immediately felt the urge to put her at ease.

“I’m Stephanie.” She didn’t offer him her hand, as many women would do. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her so tightly that her knuckles were white.

“Hi, Stephanie, I’m Jared,” he said gently, treating her like he would a scared child shyly wanting his autograph. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Have a seat.” With a shaking hand, she gestured to a comfy chair next to the desk.

Jared lowered his large frame into the chair and kept it a safe distance from her. He didn’t want to scare her off, and she reminded him of a doe about to bolt for freedom.

She ducked her head behind the monitor. “I’m Agnes and Iona’s assistant. They had another appointment, but I can help you fill out the paperwork.”

“Sure.” She was beautiful in a sinfully innocent way that so few of the women in his world had. She might dress to hide her body, but he found her baggy clothes oddly enticing, like a present wrapped in a box much too big for whatever was inside, making guessing all the more fun. She picked up a sheaf of papers, drawing his attention to her hand. They were delicate, conservatively short, with perfectly manicured pink fingernails. She wore no jewelry and only minimal makeup, but the effect was stunning. She gazed at him shyly, and he was certain she wasn’t putting on an act.

Shit.

She had him at hello, and she was just the assistant. He could only imagine what his dates might be like. For the first time in what seemed like forever, hope surged.

“Let’s get started.” She sounded nervous and scared, so he rushed to put her at ease.

“I’m really looking forward to meeting someone special.”

She met his gaze, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, you will. They’re very good at what they do. If you’re interested, there’s a scrapbook of the happy couples they’ve matched on the table over there.” Stephanie was gushing, and once she realized it, her face turned an adorable shade of red.

“I can see you’re enthusiastic about your job.”

She nodded and stared at the form in her hands. “I believe in what they do.”

“That’s good enough for me. You seem like a genuine person.”

“So do you.” She put her hand to her mouth as if she wished she could shove the words back inside. “Oh, I’m sorry. I—I— Shall we begin?”

“Sure.” Jared didn’t have a lot of experience with adult women who were so skittish. He dialed back his tendency to bully his way through things, sensing Stephanie required a softer approach. He wanted her to be comfortable around him, or this’d be a long interview.

She ran through all the usual stuff: name, phone, address, email, etc. He answered each question truthfully, unable to take his eyes off her face. She avoided his gaze. Instead, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she concentrated on filling in the form.

Jared looked away. She wasn’t the one. He needed to keep his eyes on the prize, and his staring was making her nervous.

“Tell me about yourself.” She watched him, pen poised on paper. Her blue eyes reminded him of a lagoon in Hawaii where he liked to swim and snorkel.

He sat back in the chair and scratched his chin, trying to determine how much he should say. “I’m a professional hockey player for the Sockeyes.”

“I know. I recognized you.”

“Don’t let that make you nervous. I’m just a normal guy.”

“Okay.”

He told her a little bit about his childhood in Minnesota, his family, and glossed over his divorce. She showed very little reaction, scribbling madly on the paper.

“Now we have some basic questions to get a feel for your likes and dislikes. Do you like animals?”

“Yeah, love them. Do you?” He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he went with it.

She looked at him through lowered lashes, a coy act by most women, but not with her. “I’ve never had a pet, but I’m sure I’d like them.”

“I’m sure you would.” Never had a pet? He couldn’t imagine growing up without animals. His childhood home had been a menagerie of cats, dogs, goldfish, and even a pot-bellied pig for a short while. Regardless, he was loosening her up a little by asking her about herself. He wasn’t sure why her comfort mattered, but it did.

“What are your favorite types of movies?”

“The usual for a guy. Anything with superheroes. Figures, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. Anything unusual?” Steph lifted her eyes to his. His breath hitched.

He looked away first and cleared his throat. “Yeah, there is something. I’m embarrassed to say.” He was actually squirming.

“Those are the kinds of things we need to know. It’s the out-of-the-ordinary facts that will help us find your best match.” She watched with more curiosity and less nervousness. “What is it?”

Exhaling a long breath, he rubbed his eyes and then finally met her gaze. “I have a fondness for Hallmark movies, the sappier, the better.”

She giggled, and the sound caressed his ears like the pleasant tinkling of a little bell. “I love them too.”

“You won’t tell the guys about this, will you?” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. She had a beautiful smile, with straight white teeth and a cute little dimple in one cheek.

“Absolutely never. Everything is confidential.”

“Good.” He held his hands over his heart in a display of dramatic relief and was rewarded with another giggle. He liked making her giggle. He suspected she didn’t laugh nearly enough.

“What’s your favorite way to spend a rainy day?”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone.”

He thought about that for a second. “Reading. I love to read. Growing up, I was never much of a video game player, like the other kids. I spent a lot of time on buses traveling to hockey games and read a ton of books.”

“What kinds of books do you like to read?”

“I like biographies. I also like to read mysteries and—” He hesitated. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I promise.”

“This goes hand in hand with the Hallmark movies. Lately I’ve been reading hockey romance novels.”

“You have? Who do you like best?”

“My favorites are Kate Willoughby, Lisa B. Kamps, and Kat Mizera.”

“I love them too. Have you read Cameron, Kate’s latest?”

“Not yet, but it’s on my tablet for the next road trip. Have you?”

“Yes, but I won’t spoil it for you.”

“Good. I hate spoilers.”

“I could really relate to the hero, though. He was a bit of a slob.”

“I bet the heroine wasn’t?” Her hundred-megawatt smile lit up her face like Friday night lights.

“Nope, She was a neat freak.” He grinned back at her, enjoying her company and the interview. He enjoyed talking to her, and he’d manage to put her at ease himself. He dragged out the interview as long as he could until, finally, she’d exhausted all her questions, and he couldn’t come up with another other reason to stick around.

“I guess that’s it, then.” Did he detect a note of disappointment in her voice?

“I guess so.” He stood, and she stood also.

“Agnes or Iona would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience.” She was all business now.

“I have a game tomorrow night, but I could meet them about one. Does that work?”

She seemed disappointed, but he didn’t know why. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll put you on their schedule.”

“Well then, I guess I should be going.” He waited, even though he didn’t have a clue what he was waiting for.

“Nice meeting you,” she said primly.

“You too. I’ll show myself out.” He met her gaze one last time but looked away quickly. She wasn’t going to be his match, so he might as well quell any displaced interest he felt toward her. He gave her a nod and walked out of the library and the house. There was a spring in his step as he strode to his piece-of-crap car.

Things were looking up.