Page 1 of The Merry Matchmaker

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Who knew that the word help could turn into a whole other four-letterword? Not Frankie Lane, that was for sure.

Although it wasn’thelpthat her friend Viola muttered when the two women stood looking at the pile of wallpaper that had slid down the wall and onto the floor in the dining room of Viola’s fixer-upper Victorian. The section Frankie had put up, not Viola’s.

“I don’t understand what happened,” Frankie said, gaping at it.

Viola heaved a sigh.

Everything had looked fine before they’d stepped into the kitchen in search of wine to celebrate the completed job. By the time they were back in the dining room to toast to their success, the wallpaper was toast. Soggy toast. Frankie had to get back to her shop, and here was...this. Obviously, she couldn’t leave her friend with such a mess.

“I’ll just put this back up again,” Frankie said, hurrying over to the sodden pile.

Viola rushed after her. “No! Don’t touch anything. I know you want to help.”

“I do!”

“But please don’t.”

Ouch. That hurt.

This had all been Frankie’s great idea. “You have to have wallpaper in an old Victorian,” she’d said. “It will look so cute with the wainscoting,” she’d said as she showed her friend what she’d found online.

“I don’t think wallpapering is your forte,” Viola said in an attempt to remove the sting. “Anyway, you should get back to the shop. We can drink our wine this evening. Terrill won’t be home until late.”

“Are you sure? I can get it right this time, and I hate to leave you with this mess. It won’t work for your blog.”

“Sure, it will. Every home improvement project has setbacks. This will make my finished project look more impressive. Anyway, your mom’s probably ready to throttle you by now for leaving her in charge for so long.”

“Are you kidding? Mom loves being in charge, and I haven’t been gone that long. But you’re right. I should get back. How about I make this up to you by picking up a pizza for us?”

“Excellent idea,” Viola approved. “And ask Adele not to hate me for stealing you on Small Business Saturday. I forgot about that when Terrill deserted me to go to work.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t that busy. Yesterday was our big day.” But Viola was right. Frankie had a business to run, and she needed to get back to it.

She got into her Prius and headed off to beautiful downtown Carol, where she had her shop, Holiday Happiness. Thanksgiving was over, and the shop, which featured all manner of Christmas decor, had done a whopping business the day before with customers crowding in to take advantage of the Black Friday sale, check out the latest Christopher Radko ornament or pick up an Advent calendar. Or simply chat.

Downtown was now decorated for Christmas, thanks to all the shop owners and the chamber of commerce getting busy early Friday morning. The lampposts were ringed with red plastic ribbon tied in bows. Swags of greenery and fat old-fashioned lights hung over shop windows, and the big banner strung across Main Street announced A Carol Christmas—Santa Walk December 21.

The Santa Walk had been Frankie’s brainchild, and this would be its third year. All the downtown shops would be offering coupons and special discounts and passing out treats. Santa would come to town and set up in the town square gazebo. Mrs. Claus would be on hand to accompany him during the Santa parade and to help greet the children who were excited to see him as well as their parents.

Frankie had been Mrs. Claus both previous years and was looking forward to a repeat performance. After all, she was Mrs. Holiday Happiness.

She didn’t go right into her shop. Instead, she walked next door to Handy’s Hardware, which would be the perfect place to get an apology prezzie for Viola. With all the work she and her policeman husband, Terrill, were doing on their house, the hardware store had become their home away from home.

Terrill happened to be cruising by in his patrol car. He stopped and let down his window and called, “How’d it go? Am I still Mr. DooDoo?”

Frankie snickered. “Maybe. She wound up calling me to help her finish.”

“Did you?”

“Sort of but not really. I’m on pizza patrol.”

“All the works?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “If you’re lucky, we’ll save you some.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and cruised on down the street.

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