Page 11 of The Matchmaker and the Marine

Adam Bell

Before he could change his mind, he hit Send. He leaned back in his chair, wondering how long it would take for a reply as he waited for his computer to shut down he texted Melinda.

Got your email about the match. I’ve emailed Susan. Drawings are ready—when can I stop over?

He got a speedy reply. Anytime!

On my way. He rolled up the plans. Before he got up, he massaged his knee. It was aching. Rain must be coming.

Melinda took the printed pages lying on her desk and put the stacks in color-coded folders. Business had been surprisingly brisk over the last year as even more people contracted for her services.

She pushed away from her desk, stretched her arms overhead and walked through the side door into her sun-filled kitchen. After pouring a glass of iced tea, she leaned against the counter and took a sip. Her thoughts drifted back to her client list. Was she doing the right thing, working with so many people? What would happen if she started to rush and matched the wrong couples? Her intuition was strong and she was seldom wrong about a match. Still, she worried. But it was always up to the people if they wanted to see someone after the first date.

Tires crunched in the driveway. She set her glass down and hurried to the front door and she saw Adam through the side window poised to knock. She pulled it open and smiled.

With a chuckle, he said, “Hello there.”

“Come in. I just poured some iced tea; would you like a glass?”

“I am a little parched.” He grinned and held up a hard, plastic tube. “I brought your plans.”

“Well then, what are you doing still standing in the doorway?” she teased. “Come in. I can’t wait to see them.”

Adam followed her through the living room and into her kitchen. “Something smells good.”

“Oh, I baked cookies earlier. Oatmeal. Would you like one?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Homemade cookies? Absolutely.”

Melinda stifled a laugh. “You haven’t tasted them yet.”

He set the tube on the island and joked, “Did you add something weird to them?”

“Just raisins.” She set an empty glass and the cookie jar on the counter. Opening the refrigerator, she took the pitcher of tea out. It slipped from her hands. She watched, as if in slow motion, as the glass hit the tile floor and shattered, spraying bits of glass and a half-gallon of iced tea in front of her feet.

“Wait!” Adam’s hand shot out to stop her. “You’ll step on glass. You’ve got bare feet.” He frowned and glanced around the room. “Where are your shoes?”

She pointed to the back door. “Rubber boots.”

Instead of getting the boots for her, Adam scooped her up and set her on the counter. “What do you have to clean this up?”

She was surprised at his commanding tone. “I can get it. Would you hand me my boots?”

“I’ve got this.” He pointed to her feet. “Stay there. I don’t want you to cut your feet.”

She did as Adam asked and watched as he opened the broom closet and pulled out a mop and bucket, along with the broom and a dustpan.

Adam handed her the boots and began to sweep the broken glass into the pan. After slipping into the boots, Melinda hopped off the counter and began to fill a bucket with water and vinegar.

Adam said, “I’ll sop up the tea if you want to use the mop. Together we’ll get this done in no time.”

“Adam, I really appreciate your help.”

“Think of it as payment for the enormous number of cookies I’m about to eat.”

Softly she said, “Thank you.” She wasn’t accustomed to having help around the house.

He dipped his head to the side. “You’re welcome.” He held up the bottle of white vinegar. “Now about your cleansers…”

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