Praise for Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Stories

“With The Perfect Christmas, Macomber has spun Christmas gold… The author’s charming style comes through with every turn of the page, leading readers through a variety of emotions—so keep a box of tissues at hand! Definitely one for the keeper shelf, highly recommended!”

—The Romance Readers Connection

“Call Me Mrs. Miracle is an entertaining holiday story that surely will touch the heart… Best of all, readers will rediscover the magic of Christmas.”

—Bookreporter.com

“With a wink and a wish, there’s always magic whenever Mrs. Miracle shows up, along with some good old-fashioned romance! Don’t miss this special Christmas book!”

—Romance Reviews Today on Call Me Mrs. Miracle

“Familiar townspeople, three impulsive brothers on the hunt, and a pair of appealing protagonists bring to life this sweet, humorous romance that, with its many obvious parallels, is a satisfying, almost tongue-in-cheek retelling of the Christmas story.”

—Library Journal on A Cedar Cove Christmas

“A lighthearted, decidedly modern retelling of the Christmas story, this is vintage Macomber. Its charm and humor are balanced by the emotional impact of heroine Mary Jo’s situation, and many readers will find it irresistible.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Cedar Cove Christmas

“Macomber’s latest charming contemporary Christmas romance is a sweetly satisfying, gently humorous story that celebrates the joy and love of the holiday season.”

—Booklist on Christmas Letters

“Macomber’s take on A Christmas Carol…adds up to another tale of romance in the lives of ordinary people, with a message that life is like a fruitcake: full of unexpected delights.”

—Publishers Weekly on There’s Something About Christmas

“It’s just not Christmas without a Debbie Macomber story.”

—Armchair Interviews

The Perfect Christmas

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To

Gary and Marsha Roche

And

In Memory of Bob Mullen With thanks for sharing their love of Civil War history With Wayne and me

October 2011

Dear Friends,

I believe many of us dream—or dreamed!—about hosting the perfect Christmas. It took me most of my adult life to realize that “perfect” and “Christmas” are two words that don’t really go together….

I remember the year the kids and I bought a huge Christmas tree, leaving my poor husband to fit it into a stand about seven times too small. That “perfect” Christmas tree ended up being tossed out the front door with a few choice words from Wayne.

Then there was the Christmas I spent the entire day in the kitchen cooking the perfect dinner for my young family. Just about everything that could go wrong did, including losing electricity in the middle of roasting the turkey. By the time dinner was ready, I was exhausted. Imagine my dismay when I realized all four kids were far more interested in playing with their new toys, and Wayne had been snacking all afternoon and wasn’t hungry. Let me just say—not our best Christmas.

Over the years we’ve refined our family traditions but the idea of the perfect Christmas lingers in my mind, so—as inevitably happens with writers—I decided to create a story based on that elusive goal. This book was first published in hardcover in 2009; you’ll see that I’ve provided a new epilogue, which gives you a brief update on the characters and their lives. I’ve also included additional bonus material, such as a few recipes from my brand-new Christmas cookbook and a knitting pattern. And you’ll also find one of my first Christmas stories—still a favorite of mine— Can This Be Christmas?

I’d love to hear from you—whether it’s just to say hello, to tell me what you think of the story or to describe your own “perfect” (or not so perfect!) Christmas. You can reach me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, or through my website, www.DebbieMacomber.com.

Merry Christmas!

Contents

Cover

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

Letter to Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Cassie’s Ideas for the Perfect Christmas Party

Infant Santa Hat

Christmas Eve Eggnog

Crock-Pot Chicken Chili

Five-Minute Cranberry Walnut Cobbler

Ice Krispie Snowmen

Many Bean Soup Mix

Cream Scones with Dried Figs and Cherries

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Who mails out Christmas cards before Thanksgiving?” Cassie Beaumont lamented to her best friend.

Angie Barber looked up from her microscope and seemed to take an extra moment to consider what Cassie had just said. “You got a Christmas card? Already?”

Cassie wheeled her chair back to her station. “Can you believe it?”

“Who from?”

“An old college friend. You wouldn’t know her.” Cassie shrugged. “Jill married Tom two weeks after we graduated.”

“They have children?”

Cassie caught the wisp of longing in Angie’s voice and answered with a nod. “Two, a boy and a girl, and of course they’re adorable.”

“Of course,” Angie echoed.

The Christmas card photo showed the four of them in matching outfits of green and red. The mother and daughter wore full-length green dresses with red-and-green plaid skirts. Father and son had on three-piece suits with vests in the same fabric as the dress skirts. It was too adorable for words.

“There was a letter, as well.”

“Everything in their lives is perfect, right?” Angie asked.

“Perfect in every way,” Cassie grumbled. The unfairness of it all was too much. Jill, who worked as a financial planner, held down a forty-hour-a-week job, kept a meticulous house and still managed to be a terrific wife and mother. Despite all the demands on her time, she’d mailed out her Christmas cards a full month in advance.

“Is there a reason the perfect Jill sent her Christmas cards so soon?” Angie asked.

“Jill and Tom just moved into a new home and wanted to update family and friends with their address change. Oh, and there was a photo of the house and it was—”

“Perfect,” Angie finished for her.

“Perfect doesn’t begin to describe it.”

Angie watched her closely. “Do I detect a slight note of envy?” she asked.

“Slight envy? Me?” Cassie asked, exaggerating the words. “Heavens, no. What you’re hearing is a full-blown case of jealousy. The green-eyed monster is alive and well.” Cassie rolled her chair to the end of a counter filled with an assortment of microscopes, test tubes, slides and other equipment, then stood, hands propped on her hips. “Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve been on a real date?”

“You went out with Greg last week,” Angie reminded her.

“Greg isn’t a man,” Cassie blurted out. “I mean, he is, but not in the sense of someone I’m interested in,” she said. “Greg’s…completely unsuitable as marriage material.” She didn’t need to explain that, at thirty-four, the ticking of her biological clock got louder by the year.

Angie sighed. “I agree.”

He was eligible in practically every way but he happened to be divorced and in love with his ex-wife. Unfortunately, he hadn’t figured that out yet. The entire date, if it could even be called a date, was spent rehashing the tragedy of his divorce. He went on and on about how much he missed his three kids—and his ex-wife, if the number of times he mentioned her name was any indication. The night had been sheer drudgery for Cassie. It was her first and last date with Greg.

“The problem is, we don’t meet many guys here at work,” Angie said. Cassie was well aware of that. Since they were holed up in a lab eight to ten hours a day, working as biochemists for a plastics company, the opportunities to socialize outside the job were limited.

“What really hit home,” Cassie said, “after receiving that Christmas card, is how badly I want a family of my own.”

“I know.” The longing was back in Angie’s voice, too.

“I don’t understand why it’s so hard to meet men. I’m reasonably attractive, right?”

Angie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“Thirty-four isn’t so old, is it?”

“Not really.”

Cassie shook her head and wondered why she was still single. She wanted to be married, and she liked to think she had the full package—five-five, dark hair, dark eyes. She was attractive, as Angie had confirmed, and she was smart, with a successful career, an engaging personality (if she did say so herself) and plenty of friends. “I blame my mother for this.”

“Your mother?”

“I blame my father, too, even if he didn’t stick around all that long.”

“Or maybe because he didn’t stick around.”

“Yeah, I guess. After the divorce, my mother was so down on marriage, the whole idea terrified me.”

“But it doesn’t anymore, does it?”

“No. I want a husband and I’d really like children.” She grinned. “The ironic thing is, my mother’s remarried.”

“Marriage seems to terrify your brother, too. Shawn should be married by now, don’t you think? He’s older than you are.”

“I’m not so sure about Shawn.” Cassie sometimes wondered if Angie might be interested in her brother. There was actually nothing to indicate that, but every once in a while Cassie had this feeling…?. “He travels so much that maintaining a long-term relationship would be difficult for him.”

“True,” Angie said.

Shawn was a well-known artist who painted murals all over the country. Brother and sister were close and kept in touch, calling each other two or three times a week. Currently Shawn was in Boca Raton, Florida, painting the side of a building that stood next to the freeway. He’d sent her photos of the mural from his cell phone—an ocean scene, which Cassie knew was his favorite. Whales rising up out of the crashing waves. Dolphins and sea turtles and all kinds of fish frolicked in the sparkling blue water. His murals made headlines wherever he went and huge crowds showed up to watch him paint.

“Shawn’s a different case,” Cassie said. In her opinion, that summed up the situation pretty accurately.

“But if you were married, I bet he’d show some interest in finding a wife,” Angie commented.

Cassie had never thought of their family dynamic in those terms. Perhaps, in some obscure way, Shawn was waiting for her to make the leap first. Angie might be right. It wasn’t that Shawn followed her lead—far from it. They’d both been traumatized by the divorce and by their mother’s reaction. Their father, who wanted his kids to call him Pete, had been in and out of their lives. Mostly out and yet…yet he’d had a powerful influence on his children, whom he rarely recognized as such.

“Shawn won’t feel marriage is safe until he sees you happily married,” Angie went on to say.

Cassie scowled at her friend. “What makes you so smart?”

“Just an observation,” Angie said. “I may not be correct, but it seems to me that you and Shawn are afraid of love.”

“Me afraid of love? Hardly.” Not if the longing in her heart was anything to go by. Like her friend Jill, she wanted it all.

“Whenever you meet a man—no matter how perfect he is—you find fault with him,” Angie said.

Now, that was categorically untrue. “Not so,” Cassie argued.

“Oh, it’s all wine and roses in the beginning, but then it’s over before you even have a chance to really know the guy.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well, mostly,” Angie told her softly, “I can say it because I’ve seen you do it again and again.”

“You’re not talking about me and Jess, are you? The man had no class. He scratched his private parts in public!”

“Not Jess.”

“Who do you mean, then?”

“Rod.”

Cassie cocked her head. “Rod? Rod who?”

“I don’t remember his last name. You went out with him a year ago.”

“Not Rod Showers? Good grief, he was so cheap I had to pay for my half of the meal and tip the valet because he refused to do it.”

“What about Charles…”

Cassie got the point quickly enough. “Okay, okay, so I have standards.”

“High standards.”

“Okay, fine. High standards.” Cassie had made the effort, though. “I’ve tried to meet men.”

“We both have.”

“I had hopes for that online dating service.” The advertisements had looked so promising. Cassie and Angie had signed up together and then waited expectantly to meet their perfect matches.

It didn’t happen.

“I had real hopes for that, too,” Angie returned sadly. “I thought for sure we’d meet really wonderful husbands.”

Cassie sighed. That had been an expensive venture. Her expectations had been great and her disappointment greater. Angie’s, too. In fact, Angie was the one who’d suggested trying the Internet.

“The church singles group was a good idea,” she said now.

“A great idea,” Cassie concurred, “if there’d been any men involved.” They’d gone there to discover the group consisted of thirty women and two men—both close to retirement age.

Angie nodded. “The pickings were few and far between.”

“We’ve read all the right books,” Cassie said. “Dating for Dummies. How to Find a Man in Five Easy Lessons. My personal favorite was Lasso Yourself a Husband and Other Ways to Make a Man Notice You.”

“The only thing we managed to lasso was a hundred-dollar credit-card bill for all those books.”

“Divided two ways,” Cassie reminded her.

“They did make for interesting reading.”

“They would’ve been a lot more interesting if we’d been able to make any of them work,” Cassie said in acerbic tones.

“Yeah…”

“We’ve tried everything.”

“I’m not giving up,” Angie insisted. “And I won’t let you give up, either.”

Cassie sighed.

She was close to it. The Christmas card from Jill and Tom was the final straw. For too long she’d been convinced that one day soon, she’d be mailing glossy Christmas cards to all her friends and relatives. She, too, would have a photograph that showed the perfect husband, the perfect children, a boy and a girl, all looking forward to the perfect Christmas. But year after year it was the same. No husband. No children. And each Christmas with her embittered mother more depressing than the one before.

The time had come to step forward and find a man, she decided with new resolve. Maybe she did need to lower her standards. She couldn’t allow another Christmas to pass without—

“There’s something, or rather someone, you haven’t tried,” Angie said, cutting into Cassie’s thoughts.

Cassie perked up. “Oh?”

Angie grew strangely quiet.

Cassie frowned. “Don’t hold out on me now, Angie.”

“He’s expensive.”

“How expensive? No, wait, don’t tell me.” She paused. “Who is this he?”

“A matchmaker.”

“A matchmaker,” Cassie repeated slowly. “I didn’t know there was such a thing in this day and age.”

“There is.” Angie avoided eye contact. “In fact, more and more people are turning to professional matchmakers. It works, too—most of the time.”

“Now tell me how expensive he is.”

“Thirty thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“You heard me—and apparently he’s worth it.”

“And you know about him because…” Cassie let the question hang between them.

“Because I went to him.”

Cassie slapped her hands against her sides. “Clearly you wasted your money.”

“It didn’t cost me a dime.”

“And why is that?”

Angie’s gaze darted in every direction except Cassie’s. “He wouldn’t accept me as a client.”

“He rejected you?” The man was nuts! Angie was lovely and smart and a thousand other adjectives that flew through her mind. “What’s wrong with this guy, anyway?”

“He was right…?. I’m not a good candidate and I would’ve been wasting my money.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

“I…I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been turned down.”

“If he rejected you, then he’ll probably reject me, too.”

“No…he said he couldn’t accept me because I have feelings for someone else.”

“Do you?”

“I did—a long time ago,” she said without elaborating further. “But don’t let my experience dissuade you. Check him out. Like you said earlier, you’ve tried everything else. At least make an appointment and see what he has to say.”

Cassie was tempted to ask more about this man Angie had feelings for, but her friend had clearly signalled an unwillingness to talk about it. As far as the matchmaker went, she wasn’t convinced. “He actually does this for a living?”

“Yes. He has an office and an assistant. I asked him for his credentials and he has an advanced degree in psychology and—” Angie stared directly at her “—he guarantees his work.”

“Guarantees?”

“Yes. If he doesn’t find you a husband, you get a full refund. So make an appointment and see for yourself. Remember—nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cassie said. She hated to admit that the idea intrigued her. Then again, it was rather archaic. Besides, if this man had rejected Angie, he couldn’t be any good. Still it was an opportunity, and nothing else had presented itself.

When she got to her condo building that evening, Cassie stopped at her mailbox in the lobby and immediately noticed that her newspaper was missing. No surprise there. It vanished every Tuesday when the shopping ads came out. Her neighbor Mrs. Mullinex, took it, although Cassie hadn’t been able to prove that yet. On Wednesday mornings, her paper mysteriously reappeared with the coupons clipped out. Twice now, Cassie had met her neighbor in the lobby. The grandmotherly woman didn’t resemble a thief and would’ve been above suspicion if not for the handful of coupons she clutched in her gloved fingers.

Grumbling under her breath, Cassie headed for her apartment. She tossed the mail on the kitchen counter without looking. The picture of Jill, Tom and their two children smiled at her from the refrigerator door.

The perfect family having the perfect Christmas.

Jill’s smile seemed to be telling Cassie “All this could be yours, too.”

“A matchmaker?” Cassie said aloud. “Am I really resorting to this?”

Angie had given Cassie his business card and then for good measure a hug and parting words of advice. “Just do it. I don’t think you’ll be sorry.”

Cassie hesitated and glanced over at the perfect family posed in front of the world’s most beautiful Christmas tree. Oh, for heaven’s sake, what would it hurt?

After rummaging around the bottom of her purse, she found the engraved card that read: Dr. Simon Dodson, Professional Matchmaker.

Heart pounding, Cassie reached for the phone.

Chapter 2

Simon says: A good matchmaker always knows his clients—especially after a background check!

Cassie had to wait a week before she could get an appointment with Simon Dodson. He made sure she understood that he was doing her a favor by squeezing her in at the end of the day. All right, to be fair, his personal assistant, Ms. Snelling, a rather unpleasant woman, made it sound as if an appointment was a terrible inconvenience. Frankly Cassie didn’t hold out much hope for this, and who could blame her? The matchmaking psychologist had declined to accept Angie, who was probably the most decent, kindest person Cassie had ever known.

The day of the appointment, Cassie went home to change clothes. She dressed carefully, choosing a suit that made her look confident but not formal, and she refreshed her makeup. When she walked into his office, it was with her head held high. She’d done her homework and was keeping an open mind. She’d checked two references the Snelling woman had passed on and felt she knew what to expect. Both couples had raved about Simon. The wives had warned her that Dr. Dodson wasn’t the “warm and fuzzy” type. One of them had suggested that Cassie should be patient and not take offense. Hmm…that was unusual advice.

“Dr. Dodson will see you shortly,” his assistant informed her primly after Cassie announced herself. The office had modern art decorating the walls, large green plants in the corners and soft leather furniture in a deep shade of brown.

“You filled out the paperwork I e-mailed you and brought it in?”

“Yes, I have it here.” Cassie thought applying for a job at the CIA would’ve been easier. Simon was interested in every aspect of her background, from the name of her first-grade teacher to her current shoe size. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration—a slight one—but she didn’t see how most of the questions were relevant. Really, why did Simon need a list of any allergies she might have?

She handed the lengthy application form to the assistant, who scanned it, then took it into the inner office. Ms. Snelling reappeared a couple of minutes later and gave her a thorough once-over. Then, to Cassie’s surprise, the woman offered her a reassuring smile.

Cassie studied the assistant. She guessed Ms. Snelling was in her late fifties; she seemed efficient and no-nonsense. Cassie sat with her hands politely folded in her lap. This might be the most important appointment of her entire life. The best Christmas present she’d ever get—even if it was from herself. A husband for Christmas. Hmm…

The great Dr. Simon Dodson kept her waiting a full thirty minutes. Cassie knew because she glanced at her watch every five minutes, crossed and uncrossed her legs and flipped through three magazines. By then, she’d grown impatient and irritable and had started to wonder if she’d made a mistake—or, worse, fallen for a scam. She wasn’t accustomed to being ignored. She had better things to do than sit in a waiting room on what might turn out to be a fool’s errand, a complete waste of time. She trusted that wasn’t the case; still, the longer she waited, the less hope she had.

A buzzer made her jump. Ms. Snelling got smoothly to her feet, obviously used to such a peremptory summons. “Dr. Dodson will see you now,” she said. She motioned toward the massive double doors that led into his office.

Cassie walked inside and her gaze went instantly to the man standing behind the large desk. The Internet research she’d done hadn’t included any photos, so she hadn’t been sure what to expect—but not someone relatively young with shockingly good looks. He was easily six-two and loomed above her.

“Ms. Beaumont?”

“That would be me,” she said, straining to sound cool and collected.

“Please don’t sit down.”

“Uh…” The door closed behind her.

“Walk to the far side of my office and then walk back.”

Cassie paused, which apparently he didn’t like because he gestured for her to comply.

“Do I need to say, ‘Mother, may I?’” she asked.

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay.” She did as he requested and felt his eyes burning into her with every step she took.

“You could stand to lose five pounds.”

“I beg your pardon?” What a jerk!

“You heard me and you agree with me, only I doubt you’d admit it.”

Okay, maybe she could shed a few pounds, but her figure looked fine the way it was.

He continued to study her and his frown deepened. “That color doesn’t flatter you.”

How dare he! “I happen to like navy blue.” This was her favorite suit and she’d purchased it at a closeout sale for seventy percent off.

He frowned. “Pale blue would be better.” He came out from behind his desk and walked around her. “You should let your hair grow, as well. That style is becoming but you need more length.”

“I’m glad you think there’s something attractive about me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

This man was too much! Cassie was tempted to turn around and leave. She might have, only she decided to see how many other ways he could find to insult her. It was becoming a game to her.

“Sit,” he said.

“Please?” Someone needed to teach this man some manners.

“Sit,” he repeated, more loudly this time.

“Sit, please,” she returned pointedly.

A flicker of a smile showed in his dark brown eyes. “All right, sit, please.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said pleasantly, taking the chair across from his desk.

After a moment he said, “I’ve read your application.” He sat down across from her, reached for the papers and leafed through them. “Tell me about your father.”

“Why are you asking about him?”

He lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “It’s my experience that most women want to marry a man just like their father.”

“Not me. Pete’s a poor excuse for a father. I want as little to do with him as possible.”

Simon immediately made a lengthy notation on a pad in front of him.

Cassie moved to the edge of the cushion. “What did you write?”

Simon looked up, a frown darkening his face. Clearly she’d offended him. She could only suppose he wasn’t accustomed to anyone questioning his actions. “What did you say?” he said frostily.

“I asked if you’d tell me what you wrote down.” She pointed at his notepad. “It was about me and my non-relationship with my father, wasn’t it?”

He flattened his hands on the desk. “These are my notes. I don’t share them with clients.”

The urge to stand and simply walk out the door was nearly overwhelming. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Has anyone ever told you you’re rude?”

He grinned as if the comment pleased him. “As a matter of fact, yes. Several people have taken delight in revealing their opinions.” He shook his head. “It has more to do with them and their hurt feelings than with me.”

“What others think doesn’t bother you?”

He gave a bored sigh. “Not particularly. Why should it? Now listen, Ms…?.” He glanced down at the application in an apparent effort to locate her name.

“Beaumont,” she supplied.

“Ms. Beaumont,” he said impatiently. “This is my office and I ask the questions here. Kindly refrain from interrupting me.”

She leaned back in the chair. “By all means, ask away.” She waved in his direction as though granting him permission to continue.

He narrowed his eyes. “In as few words as possible, explain to me why you aren’t married.”

That was easy enough to answer. She thought of what Angie had said a few days earlier. “I’ve been told my standards are too high.”

He raised his eyes from the page, his expression startled.

“I guess you could say I’m choosy,” she amended. “I’m looking for a perfect match. Someone who’s just right—for me. The perfect man, the perfect marriage…and,” she added, almost in a whisper, “the perfect Christmas.”

He didn’t respond. “You’re how old?” he asked, instead. He ran his finger down the application.

“Thirty-four. How old are you?”

He exhaled. “As I requested earlier, kindly refrain from asking questions. My age is not your concern.”

“Answer me one question, and then I promise not to ask anything else.”

He glared at her.

“Just one,” she cajoled. “You can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is to sit here and have you scrutinize me. It’s only fair that I should know something about you.”

Sighing, he set the application aside, but before he could speak, she blurted out, “Are you married?”

His eyebrows arched. “That’s your one question?”

“Yes, and it’s important.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, first, if you haven’t been able to find yourself a wife, what qualifies you to find me a husband?”

“All I will say is that a doctor doesn’t need to have a disease in order to cure it. I’m good at what I do. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be willing to offer a refund if I’m unsuccessful in locating a husband for you.”

“Are you always so stiff and formal—as if your underwear’s been starched?”

He stood abruptly. “I believe that will be all for this afternoon.”

“You’re sending me away?” She blinked, disappointed. Cassie was just starting to enjoy this. His typical clients were probably more respectful, if not downright obsequious.

“This interview is over.”

“Did I pass?” She’d rather know now than be left hanging. She guessed not. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take her on. And yet, disagreeable though he was, Simon Dodson intrigued her.

He hesitated. “I’ll be in touch later this week.”

This was a line Cassie had heard before. “In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

“Precisely.”

Cassie recognized her marching orders. She bent down for her purse and reluctantly stood.

As she drove back to her condo, she tried to make sense of her short interview. On her way up, she collected her mail and noticed once again that the Tuesday paper was missing. Mrs. Mullinex, no doubt.

She ran for the elevator and saw Mr. Oliver, who lived on the same floor, standing inside. Looking her right in the eye, he let the doors close instead of holding them for her. This wasn’t the first time, either. He was an unsociable man; the most she’d been able to coax out of him was a muffled greeting, as if he begrudged every word he was forced to speak.

When she got to her condo, she saw that she had company.

“Shawn!” Her brother had made himself at home and was wolfing down a sandwich while standing over her kitchen sink.

“Hey, it’s about time you got home. Where were you?”

Rather than explain, Cassie walked over and hugged her big brother. “I had an appointment. How long are you here?” she asked.

“Two days, maybe three.”

Shawn often had only a few days’ rest before he flew to some other town where another commission awaited him. She knew he was headed to Phoenix, Arizona, next. He had his own home in Portland, but every now and then he dropped in on her. In an effort to encourage his visits, she’d given him a key to her condo.

“I take it you’re hungry.”

“Starved.”

“Let me fix you something decent.” Cassie checked the contents of her refrigerator, then reached for a frying pan. She loved to cook and had a small repertoire of favorite dishes. This was one. “How does taco salad sound?”

“Like ambrosia from the gods.” He sat on the stool and watched her move about the compact kitchen. “You’re going to make some man a wonderful wife.”

She whirled around to face him. “Funny you should say that.”

Shawn went still. “You’ve met someone?”

“I would’ve told you!” They weren’t in the habit of keeping secrets from each other. “My appointment this afternoon was with a professional matchmaker.”

Her brother’s head went back as if the announcement had shocked him. “Get out of here! A matchmaker?”

“I had my first appointment with the great and mighty Dr. Simon Dodson.”

“How’d it go?”

Cassie set the onion on the chopping board and paused. “I’m not sure. Simon’s pretty rude, but apparently he knows his stuff.”

“Simon, is it?”

In her mind it was. “Yeah. He’s not a medical doctor, even though he has a bunch of letters behind his name.”

Her brother looked unconvinced. “You checked his references?”

“I did. I spoke with two couples who met through him. I was warned in advance that he isn’t the most likeable fellow on the face of the earth, but they say he has this gift.”

“How’d you hear about him?”

“Through Angie.”

“Angie?” Her brother appeared as astonished by this as Cassie had been. “I wouldn’t think she’d need a matchmaker. Did she go to him?”

Cassie nodded.

“When?”

“A little while ago. She didn’t really say. What I don’t get is why Simon rejected her.”

“That’s crazy! Angie’s great.”

“And I’m not?” she asked, her hand on her hip.

Shawn chuckled. “I’m staying as far away from that question as I can. What did the matchmaker say? If he rejected Angie, then what about you?”

That was the thirty-thousand-dollar question. “I don’t know if Simon will accept me as a client or not. He said he’d phone, but…” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by loud rap music coming from the condo to the right of hers.

“Good grief, what’s that?” Shawn covered his ears.

“My new neighbor,” Cassie shouted back. She walked over to the kitchen wall and banged hard three times. Within half a minute, the music had been turned down to a more respectable volume.

“Jalapeño?” she asked next, hardly missing a beat.

“Might as well. My life could do with a bit of spicing up.”

“Mine, too.”

“So tell me more about this matchmaker. Do you like him?”

Cassie began tearing lettuce industriously. “The truth is, I don’t. He’s arrogant, snooty and definitely not my type. I’m not his, either. Not that it matters… But he doesn’t like to be questioned or challenged. I could tell I irritated him.”

“You heard he’s successful, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Until that moment, Cassie hadn’t realized how much she hoped Simon would agree to work with her. “I don’t know if he’s ready for someone like me.”

“What do you mean?”

She waved a lettuce leaf in his direction. “Like I said, I questioned his actions and his decisions. He didn’t like it.”

“I wonder why he rejected Angie,” Shawn mused. “I mean, she’s not annoying or—”

“Hey, stop right there.”

Shawn laughed and leaned his elbows on the counter where he sat. “Who’s that picture of on the fridge?” he asked.

Although she didn’t need to turn and look, Cassie did. She tensed slightly as she stared at the photograph of Jill and Tom and their perfect Christmas. “That, brother dearest, is my inspiration.”

Chapter 3

A few minutes later, Cassie reached for her phone on impulse and dialed Angie’s number.

“Hello? Oh, Cassie, I was hoping you’d call. How’d the appointment go?”

“Do you like taco salad?” Cassie asked rather than answering.

“Is there any food group I don’t like?” Her friend had a smile in her voice.

“Silly question. Come join us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, Shawn stopped by. I’m making a taco salad and if you have fresh tomatoes bring one. If not, we’ll do without.”

“Shawn’s there? Your brother?”

“That’s what I just said. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m on my way, and I’ve got a tomato,” Angie said, “but when I get there, I want details about the meeting with Dr. Dodson.”

Shawn grabbed an orange from her fruit bowl and tossed it in the air, juggling it with an apple and doing a poor job. The orange hit the floor and rolled into the living room. “I’m glad you invited Angie. How’s she doing?”

“You know Angie. She’s always in a good mood.”

Her brother retrieved the orange. “Well…it’ll be nice to see her again.”

Cassie nodded absently as she began to sauté the ground beef.

By the time Angie arrived, Cassie had the hamburger with taco sauce simmering together. The salad fixings were in a large bowl, awaiting Angie’s tomato. Shawn was grating the cheese.

Angie brightened the moment she walked into the room. “Shawn, it’s great to see you.”

“You, too.” He set the cheese down long enough to give her a brief hug. Cassie always forgot how tiny her friend was until Angie stood next to her brother, who was well over six feet.

While Cassie got out the bag of tortilla chips and assembled the rest of the salad, Angie set the table and Shawn filled their water glasses. “Sorry I don’t have any sangria,” Cassie said as she carried the large wooden bowl to the table. Smaller bowls of meat, cheese and chips followed.

“This looks wonderful,” Angie told her.

“Allow me.” Shawn pulled out Angie’s chair. Then he hurried around to the other side of the table to do the same for Cassie.

“Since when have you acquired gentlemanly manners?” Cassie asked.

Jokingly Shawn checked his watch. “About five minutes ago.”

“Perfect timing.”

“I’m dying to hear how everything went this afternoon,” Angie said, her fork poised over the salad. “How was the meeting with…Dr. Dodson?” She glanced toward Shawn as if she wasn’t sure she should say any more.

“It’s okay.” Cassie nodded. “He knows all about it.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Personally I think she’s nuts. So, what’s the story with you and this matchmaker?”

Angie ignored the question and returned her attention to Cassie. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was your impression when you met him?”

“He’s abrupt and ill-mannered, don’t you agree?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She turned to Shawn. “He rejected me. I didn’t make it past the initial interview. I’ll admit it was a blow to my ego but I felt I had to tell Cassie about him.”

“I can’t believe he’d reject you.” Shawn looked genuinely outraged on Angie’s behalf. “I don’t understand why either of you would have any interest in someone who seems to enjoy insulting you.”

“Why?” Cassie answered. “We’re getting desperate, that’s why. It’s not easy to meet decent men, you know!”

“Not at our age,” Angie added.

“See that picture of Jill and Tom?” Cassie said, pointing to her refrigerator. “She has the perfect life, the perfect family and is about to have the perfect Christmas. I want all that.”

“Me, too,” Angie murmured fervently. “And so far I haven’t even come close.”

Shawn blinked. “You two are actually serious?”

“Serious enough to pay thirty thousand bucks to find the right man.”

Shawn’s eyebrows shot up. “How much?”

Cassie didn’t feel like repeating it. “You heard me.”

Shaking his head, Shawn muttered something about being in the wrong business.

Angie sighed. “It’s a ridiculous amount of money, I know, but from what I understand, it’s worth every penny—if you’re accepted, that is. Now, Cassie, tell me about your meeting with Dr. Dodson.”

Mentally reviewing the appointment, Cassie suffered more than a few doubts. “I don’t think I went over well.”

“But you have a second appointment, right?”

“Supposedly.” Cassie shrugged. “He said he’d call…?.”

“Cassie, that’s great! Dr. Dodson read my application, took one look at me and said he didn’t have anyone who’d suit me.”

That wasn’t precisely what Angie had told her earlier. Simon had apparently said she already held feelings for someone. If that was the case, Cassie didn’t have any idea who it might be. She wished she’d questioned her further, but at the time she’d been too interested in hearing about this matchmaker and now didn’t seem appropriate. Especially since Angie was obviously reluctant to talk about her own situation. The man in question must’ve been someone she’d met years ago, which was what Angie had implied. It certainly wasn’t anyone Cassie knew, and they’d worked together for six years.

“Tell us what he said,” Angie urged.

“Simon was pretty rude,” Cassie said between bites of her salad. She added another layer of crushed tortilla chips to the lettuce.

“How?” Shawn asked. “I want specifics.”

“Well, he didn’t seem to like a single thing about me. Not my body type, not my choice of clothes or the color of my suit.”

“I love that suit!” Angie cried.

“I did, too,” Cassie said, immediately noting that she’d used the past tense. Hard as it was to admit, he was right about that. She would’ve preferred it in a soft robin’s-egg blue, but the only available color had been navy.

“Didn’t he have anything nice to say?” Angie asked.

“Well…he did mention that my hairstyle suited me but it needed more length. That was as close to a compliment as he got.”

“But you made it past the first interview,” Angie said again, as though Cassie had managed a feat of unparalleled skill.

“What I don’t understand,” Shawn said, pushing back in his chair, “is why you’d allow this man to insult you. I mean, everything he said was just a matter of opinion. His opinion.” He raised both hands as the women started to protest. “Okay, I understand you’re feeling desperate—to quote you—but I don’t get it.”

Cassie and Angie shared a look.

“I think it’s the promise,” Cassie said.

“The promise,” Shawn repeated. “What promise?”

Angie leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “Dr. Dodson guarantees that he’ll find you a match.”

“Someone who’ll be a perfect match…”

“Someone who’s as eager to meet us as we are them,” Angie explained.

“The thing is,” Cassie said, “I can’t help wondering if the man of my dreams is actually out there.”

“Of course he is,” Shawn insisted. “Frankly I think all of this is nonsense. How can anyone guarantee that he’ll find you a perfect match?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “I can’t believe you’re willing to pay the guy that much money when you’re completely capable of finding yourself a husband.”

“Where?” Cassie asked, opening her arms and gesturing widely. “Tell me where he is and I’ll send a search party to bag him.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Angie said. “Maybe there’ll be an extra man hanging around for me.”

“Where?” Shawn ignored their teasing. “There are men, decent men, everywhere. You can meet him at work—” they shook their heads simultaneously “—well, then, at…at the grocery store. Or on the street. Or in a bookstore. Or…”

Angie cocked one finely shaped eyebrow. “Did you hear what I just heard?”

“I did,” Cassie confirmed.

“What?” Shawn looked from one woman to the other.

“You used the word meet,” Cassie told him.

“Not marry,” Angie said.

“Now, just a minute—” Shawn started to speak but Cassie cut him off.

“You’re a prime example of what we’re talking about.”

“Me?” Shawn placed a hand over his heart. “I’m too busy for a wife and family. I’m constantly on the road. That’s no life for kids.”

“You don’t feel the need for companionship, then?” Angie asked.

“Not really.”

“Men don’t,” Cassie complained. “They don’t know they’re miserable until we tell them.”

“So I’m miserable now?” Shawn laughed as if she’d made a joke. “Too bad I’ve never noticed.”

Cassie wasn’t about to argue with him. “Men aren’t on the same timetable women are, and when they finally wake up and realize they want the same things we do, they can still father children.”

“A woman has biological limitations,” Angie said, “if she wants kids.”

Her brother’s look sobered. “You two aren’t kidding.”

“No way,” Cassie said. “In fact, we’re willing to put up with the criticism and scrutiny of someone like Simon Dodson in the hope of finding a good man we can share our lives with.”

Shawn grew thoughtful. “I don’t understand why he’d reject you, Angie. It seems to me you’d be an ideal candidate.”

“Well, he did, and it’s his prerogative,” she said briskly. Then she smiled at Cassie. “I can hardly wait until you have your next appointment.”

“Now, just a minute,” Shawn said again. “You should’ve asked me to set you up before you went to all this trouble.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You have someone you want me to meet?”

“Well, sure. I know a dozen eligible men. I could’ve introduced you.”

Cassie glanced at Angie. “He only thinks to mention this now?”

Angie frowned. “Do you really trust your brother to find you a husband?”

Cassie shook her head. “My idea of what I want and what he has to offer might be worlds apart.”

“Hey, you two,” Shawn said, breaking into their conversation. “I’m sitting right here. If you have any doubts, you can address them to me directly and not to each other.”

“Okay,” Cassie said. “Tell me about one such man.”

“All right.” He appeared to be deep in thought.

“I don’t think he can scrounge up even one,” Cassie whispered, raising her eyebrows.

“Give me a minute, would you,” he snapped.

“Notice how testy he gets when challenged.”

Her brother silenced her with a look.

“There’s Riley,” he declared triumphantly. He beamed a smile at Angie and then Cassie.

“I’ve always liked the name Riley,” Angie said.

“Riley.” Cassie threw back her head. “You’re joking!”

“What’s wrong with Riley?” Angie wanted to know.

“He’s an artist friend of Shawn’s. He’s got two ex-wives, a gambling problem and he drinks too much. You’re scraping the bottom of the frying pan if you’re suggesting either of us should marry Riley.”

“He’s reformed.”

“Yeah, right. And when did this happen?”

Shawn seemed unsure. “Not too long ago. He said he’s through messing up his life. What he needs now is a good woman.”

Cassie exhaled slowly. “Tell him to talk to one of his ex-wives, then.”

“Sorry,” Angie said, “I’m not interested, either.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” Cassie informed her brother.

“What about Larry Upjohn? You couldn’t meet a nicer guy if you tried.”

“Do you know Larry?” Angie asked her.

Cassie nodded. “He’s Shawn’s CPA and in a word…b-o-r-i-n-g.”

“You didn’t say you were looking for a stand-up comic,” Shawn said, obviously annoyed.

“Call me superficial, but I don’t want to date a man who wears knee-high socks with his sandals and a pocket protector in his pajamas.”

“A little personality would be helpful,” Angie said in a defeated voice. “As you can tell, it’s not as easy as it seems.”

“Warren!” Shawn’s face lit up. “What about Warren?”

Once more Angie turned to Cassie.

She nodded, but without enthusiasm. “Warren’s a…possibility.”

“What’s wrong with Warren?” Shawn cried.

Cassie shrugged. “Nothing really. He just doesn’t ring my bells. He might Angie’s, though.”

Shawn leaned back, throwing out his arms in an expansive gesture. “I can introduce you, if you like.”

“Tell me about him first,” Angie said.

“He’s Shawn’s agent,” Cassie explained. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe Warren,” Shawn commented. “He’s a tough negotiator.”

“But a real kitten on the inside,” Cassie said. “He’s also divorced. Recently, if I remember.”

“He and Clare split last year. I don’t know many guys your age who aren’t divorced.”

“That’s reassuring,” Cassie muttered. Warren was the best of the rather shallow pool of Shawn’s male friends and acquaintances. Shallow pools, as everyone knew, were usually the slimiest, too. This was exactly why she’d decided on the matchmaker.

“Warren’s got a couple of kids. His wife has custody.”

“Thanks, big brother, but I’ll stick with Dr. Dodson.”

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Angie said, “but I’ll pass on Warren, too.”

“If I think of anyone else, I’ll give you a call.”

“You do that,” Cassie said, although she didn’t expect he would. “On second thought, phone Angie.”

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