Once Upon a Matchmaker (3 page)

What was that saying Mom used to say? In for a penny, in for a pound,
Tracy recalled. Since it was Mother’s Day, she’d follow the old adage.

With a nod of her head, Tracy allowed herself to be dragged along.

* * *

Tracy had met Theresa Manetti a couple of times, once at Kate’s wedding, the other at Kullen’s. The woman reminded her a little of her own mother. Consequently, she had taken an instant liking to the intelligent, savvy woman as well as the two women she’d introduced as her “best friends since third grade,” Maizie Sommers and Cecilia Parnell.

She’d discovered that by combining the three women’s characteristics, she came practically face-to-face with her own mother. She savored the experience for a moment, then refocused herself to enjoy the individual company of each of the women.

“See,” Kate said as she, Lilli and Tracy all sat down at the extended table, “I told you it was going to be girls’ afternoon out.”

Theresa laughed shortly. “You’re stretching the word, dear,” she told her daughter. “I haven’t been a girl since the last century.”

“It’s all in your attitude,” Maizie told her. “Me, I’m never getting old.”

Theresa suppressed a laugh and asked Cecilia, “What’s the female counterpart to Peter Pan?”

“Happy,” Tracy chimed in without hesitating.

Maizie smiled her approval. “I do like the way you think, Tracy.” Picking up the menu, she began to scan it. “So, what looks good?” she asked the others.

“Offhand, I’d say he does,” Theresa Manetti answered. She wasn’t looking at the menu but at the occupant of a table three tables away.

Maizie looked up at the dark-haired man her friend was referring to. She pretended to look surprised. In reality, all three of them—she, Cecilia and Theresa—knew
exactly
where Micah Muldare would be sitting, thanks to prior arrangements with Sheila.

“You were saying about Peter Pan?” Maizie teased. And then she leaned forward, squinting just a little. “Oh, I think I know the woman he’s with.”

Now all the women at the table were looking in the direction Theresa was. “A little old for him, isn’t she?” Cecilia asked.

“That’s his aunt, Sheila Barrett. I sold her a condo a few years ago,” Maizie explained, slanting a glance toward Tracy.

“Then she’s really a client, not a friend,” Tracy guessed.

Maizie smiled as she looked at the newcomer. “She’s both.”

“Mother makes friends easily,” Nikki confided.

Tracy looked at the table in question. “Cute little boys,” she commented. Her smile was genuine. And wide.

Maizie nodded in approval. “Yes, they are. He’s doing a wonderful job, raising them by himself, I hear. Of course, Sheila comes by to help out when she can, but there is no real substitute for a mother’s love, is there?”

The question was directed toward Tracy, but it was her own daughter, as well as Theresa’s and Cecilia’s, who chorused in a singsong voice, “No, Mother, there really isn’t.”

Maizie only laughed softly. She had a really good feeling about this. There was a definite smile in Tracy’s eyes when she looked at the children. That was very telling in her book.

Another match would soon be in the offing, she thought with satisfaction.

It would be only a matter of time.

Chapter Two

M
aizie waited until she saw Sheila glancing over in the direction of their table, then she raised her hand high and waved at the other woman.

Seeing her, Sheila smiled and returned the wave. That in turn had Micah’s sons twisting around in their chairs to see who was waving at their great-aunt—a title, when they first heard it, both boys took to mean that their aunt Sheila was really terrific. Delighted, Sheila never bothered to correct them.

Micah looked over to his oldest son. “Turn around in your seat, Gary.”

“I
am
turned around,” the boy told him, confused by the instruction.

It took a second before Micah realized the communication problem. At five, his son took everything literally, just like his brother. “Turn
back
around,” he corrected.

“Oh, okay.” Doing as he was told, Gary turned his face toward the others at his table. He focused his attention on his great-aunt.

“Do you know those ladies?” Gary asked her solemnly, doing his best to seem every bit as grown up as his father.

“What ladies?” Micah asked. This time, he turned around to see what had caught his son’s attention. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Twisting back around again, Gary said, “
Those
ladies.” He pointed to the table where he had seen someone waving to his great-aunt.

“Don’t point,” Micah reminded his son patiently.

Total confusion descended on the small, angular face. “But if I don’t point, Daddy, how are you gonna know which table has the ladies?” he wanted to know.

Sheila suppressed an amused smile. She glanced at her nephew. “He does have a point, Micah.”

“I know,” Micah said with a sigh, then tousled Gary’s hair. “He’s got the makings of a great lawyer. Too bad that won’t be for another twenty years or so. I could use him now.”

“Why?” She looked at her nephew a bit more closely. Beneath the smile, there was tension. More tension than usual. “Are you saying that you need a lawyer, Micah?”

“Probably,” he admitted. He upbraided himself for his moment of weakness and flashed her a deliberately wide, easy grin. “Forget that,” he told her. “This is your special day, Aunt Sheila. Let’s not spoil it by talking about lawyers and necessary evils.” Which was the way he viewed lawyers as a whole.

Given a choice, he would have avoided the whole lawyer route altogether, but he had a feeling that this was something where he wasn’t going to be able to rely on just his wits to get him out. And knowing that he wasn’t guilty of what he was being accused of didn’t seem to matter, or help.

He looked at the other three occupants at the table. “I just want to have a nice meal with my three favorite people.”

But Sheila didn’t seem satisfied. Covering Micah’s hand with her own, she looked intently into his eyes. “Well, I won’t be able to have that ‘nice meal’ unless you promise to tell me what’s wrong the moment we get home.”

It was a compromise he could live with. Micah nodded. “Done.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she told him.

Though he would have wanted it otherwise, he knew that the woman was as good as her word. He wouldn’t be able to put her off.

“I know that.”

For now, Sheila relented. “All right, then.” Sitting back in her seat, she opened the menu again out of habit. “Let’s get this party started.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Aunt Sheila,” Gary reminded her, shifting in his seat restlessly.

The boy had the tenacity of a pit bull. For a second, Sheila’s eyes shifted to Micah.

“Definitely the makings of a lawyer,” she said, agreeing with her nephew’s assessment of his older son. Leaning her head on her hand, she looked directly into Gary’s sky-blue eyes and asked, “And what question is that?”

“Do you know those ladies?” Gary repeated with just a trace of exasperation. He slanted a look at his father. “The ones I can’t point at,” he added.

“I know some of them. The lady who waved sold me the condo I live in. Those two other older ladies are her oldest and dearest friends.”

“Doesn’t she have any young friends? Besides you,” Gary asked. His smile was broad and earnest.

Micah’s older son was seated to her left. Sheila leaned over and gave the boy a long, heartfelt hug. “Best present I ever got,” she told him.

At any other time, Gary would have preened at the compliment. But right now, he was dealing with a more immediate problem. “You’re squishing me, Aunt Sheila,” the boy protested.

She released him immediately, making a show of raising her hands and removing them from his small body. “Sorry, I got carried away,” she apologized. There was a glimmer of humor about her mouth that only Micah took note of.

Greg scrunched up his face. It was clear that he didn’t understand the expression.

“No, you didn’t,” the younger boy told her. “You’re right here. Nobody’s carrying you away.”

Greg looked around as if to make sure no one had sneaked up on them. As he scanned the room, he made eye contact again with one of the ladies at the other table. She was looking right at him.

Shy, he shifted back around and hid his face in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” Micah asked his son. What had caused
this
reaction, Micah wondered.

“That lady, she’s looking right at me.” Greg giggled, saying the words into his hands.

It was Micah’s turn to look at the women at the table in question. He assumed his sons were both looking at the same table. Scanning it quickly, he saw that there were eight women seated around the table. Seven appeared engaged in conversation and the eighth, a blonde—Greg had to be referring to her—was looking in their direction.

His eyes met hers unexpectedly and for a very long second, neither of them looked away.

She had a nice smile, he caught himself thinking. He saw her mouthing something and belatedly realized that she was saying, “Cute little boys.” Not knowing what else to do—and ignoring her seemed rather rude—he mouthed, “Thank you.”

Her smile curved even more, pulling him in a little further. For some reason, he was having a difficult time looking away. There was something almost hypnotic about the smile, yet incredibly soothing at the same time.

“How come you’re not making any noise?” Greg asked, then explained the reason for his question. “Your mouth’s moving.”

“He’s using his inside voice,” Gary informed his brother importantly. Then, raising his chin, he added, “I can hear him.”

Even at four, Greg knew a lie when he heard it. “No, you can’t,” he insisted.

“Can, too,” Gary shot back, ready to go to war against his worst enemy/best friend in the blink of an eye.

“Boys,” Micah interjected sternly, “what did I tell you about arguing?”

“Don’t,” both boys chorused, their eyes downcast. Both appeared to be properly chastised, although Micah suspected that a little playacting was going into their performances.

Satisfied that they were going to behave for at least the next five minutes, Micah nodded and turned his attention back to the meal. Their waiter was approaching the table.

“All right, let’s order the food while it’s still Mother’s Day,” he urged his sons.

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sheila asked, looking dismayed, annoyed and worried all at the same time.

“But I just did,” Micah pointed out, spreading his hands wide.

They had barely crossed the threshold to his house before his aunt had pounced and demanded to know what was going on. They’d stayed at the restaurant a good two hours and apparently she had enjoyed every minute of it. But now, she informed him in a no-nonsense voice, it was time to come clean.

“What’s wrong and why do you feel you need a lawyer?” she’d asked—and he’d told her.

Told her everything.

Granted it was a summarized version, and he’d left out a few details because she was outside the realm of those who had a need to know, but he’d relayed the general gist of it.

She’d taken it all in quietly, making no comment while he talked. But he could tell that she was upset.

“Besides,” he pointed out, “it’s Sunday. There’s not much I can do about this until tomorrow.” Everything had blown up on him late Friday afternoon. He’d spent Saturday trying to come to terms with the unexpected, jarring turn his life had taken.

“Oh, yes, there is,” Sheila informed him in no uncertain terms. She went directly to the kitchen and the phone on the wall.

To his knowledge, no good law firm did business on a Sunday. “Who are you going to call?” he asked sarcastically. “Lawyers R Us?”

Granted he wasn’t an expert, but in his opinion, any attorney who was in his office or on call on a Sunday was either desperate, ridiculously expensive or not any good. None of which were qualities he was seeking in the person he needed to represent him. He needed someone good who charged a reasonable fee, one that he had a fighting chance of paying off before the turn of the next century.

Sheila stopped just short of dialing, looking at her nephew over her shoulder. “Remember that woman who waved at me in the restaurant?”

He remembered. Remembered, too, the tall, striking blonde he’d made eye contact with. It had been an odd feeling, a little like déjà vu, as if he’d been in exactly the very same spot before.

But of course he hadn’t. He blamed it on his overwrought nerves.

Shaking off the feeling, he got back to his aunt’s question. There seemed to be only one reason why she would refer to the other woman.

“She’s a lawyer?” he guessed. But the moment he said it, he knew that didn’t make any sense. “I thought you said she sold you the condo.”

He didn’t want to hurt his aunt’s feelings, especially not on a day that celebrated mothers. He was ever mindful of the fact that she had taken him in when she didn’t have to. No law would have made her open her home—not to mention her heart—to an orphaned relative. She’d done that out of the goodness of her heart and he loved her for it.

Still, this was his life—and quite possibly his freedom—they were talking about.

“Usually anyone who wears two hats doesn’t wear either one well,” he told her diplomatically.

The boys were sitting on the floor watching a cartoon video his father kept on hand just for occasions like this, when Gary looked up, his attention captured by the phrase his father had used.

He frowned thoughtfully. “She wasn’t wearing any hats, Daddy. Don’t you remember?”

“My mistake,” Micah said.

It was easier saying that than getting involved in an explanation that cited the sentence as an old expression. Since Friday, when his life had suddenly been upended, it was all he could do just to try to hold himself together and not think of the possible consequences if things went awry.

He couldn’t even afford to let his mind go there. He had sons to provide for and an existing pile of medical bills—both for Ella and for Greg—that he still had to pay off. That meant keeping a clear head and being prepared at all times. Prepared to defend himself, prepared to answer charges—and somehow get to the bottom of all this to find out how he’d become implicated in these criminal allegations to begin with.