Page 101 of The Merry Matchmaker

Everyone in Carol had decided to party. The sidewalks were packed, and there wasn’t a parking place to be had on any of the town’s main streets or in its paid lot. She parked in the special parking in back of the shop, but it was still a bit of a walk to Sips. She was glad for her sturdy boots and her warm coat and gloves.

The wine bar was housed in one of the town’s older buildings, but inside it was modern all the way—chairs of black leather and wood around tall wooden tables. A couple of artsy paintings of wine bottles and glasses on white walls. Hanging cylinder lights. A tree strung simply with white lights stood in one corner, and that was it as far as Christmas decor went.

The people inside made up for it. Ugly sweaters abounded, and Santas of all shapes and sizes were sipping wine and laughing. Some of the women wore fancy red dresses with their snow boots, and a couple of women had donned white wigs and fake spectacles and red skirts with aprons to look like Mrs. Claus.

But the day’s official Mrs. Claus was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the Santa. What the heck?

I don’t see you, Frankie texted Mitch.

Sorry. Elinor wanted to go to La Bella Vita.

OK, Frankie texted back, and hurried out the door and down the street. Her hurrying wasn’t quite as fast as she intended as several people stopped her to compliment her on the success of the day’s activities. But she finally made it. Now, where were they?

A text came in from Mitch.On our way to Carol’s Place.

What? Already? Frankie felt like she was playing a grown-up version of tag as she started for the new destination. This was a pub crawl, not a pub race. What was Elinor’s hurry?

“We wish you a Merry Christmas,” warbled the Dickens Carolers as she rushed past them.

She was beginning to think she could use all the wishes she could get.

Carol’s Place was packed with more Santas and Mrs. Clauses, as well as elves, Grinches and ugly sweater fans. “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” was playing at top volume, and people were on the wooden dance floor line dancing to it.

At a far corner table, she caught sight of...Barbara and Brock? Frankie blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. She wasn’t. There they sat, holding hands across the table, Barbara looking emaciated but elegant in her black sweater and leggings and red scarf, Brock in a matching black sweater and jeans. It looked like he’d found a woman who wasn’t bothered by age differences. But of all the women to latch on to. She’d feed his ego well, though, so good luck and Merry Christmas.

Frankie continued to search the room and finally caught sight of Mitch and Elinor at a table on the other side of the place, their server setting down what looked like peppermint martinis in front of them. The same drink Frankie and Mitch had enjoyed together the year before. Elinor had changed from her Mrs. Claus outfit into the hot red dress she’d worn the night before. Frankie’s dress. A holly leaf of jealousy poked at Frankie.

No need to be jealous. This was Elinor’s big day. Mrs. Claus had a right to enjoy a peppermint martini with Santa.

But not in Frankie’s dress.

They were seated at a table for four. Perfect. Frankie texted Stef to come join them, then donned a smile and went to their table.

“Hi, guys,” she said as she slid into a seat.

“Hey there. Glad you found us,” Mitch greeted her.

Elinor didn’t say anything. In fact, Elinor didn’t look at all pleased to see Frankie.

That was when Frankie knew that the suspicions she’d been denying all along were not simply suspicions. Viola was right. There was a reason Elinor was turning the pub crawl into a pub chase.

And Frankie didn’t like it one little bit.

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Elinor obviously was envisioning herself with Mitch beyond this day.She needed to get her vision checked. She did not belong with Mitch. Frankie belonged with Mitch.

And there it was, reality staring her right in the face. She’d been perfectly happy to keep him at arm’s length, figuring that was so much safer than taking their friendship to a deeper level. She’d even tried to match him up with other women. But now, seeing him looking so cozy and at ease with Elinor, she knew that she didn’t want to see Mitch with someone after all...unless that someone was her.

Selfish, really.

“I hope you don’t mind me wearing your dress one more time,” Elinor said. “You were right. I should have bought it.”

Sharing is caring, Frankie reminded herself. She liked Elinor, wanted her to have a good life, but she was done sharing her dress. And Mitch. So what had all her earlier matchmaking been about anyway?

Fear. She’d been afraid to risk her heart, so she’d kept pushing away the one man she could really share that life with. Dopey her! Now what was she going to do?

Sit there and be jealous, it would appear.

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