Page 24 of The Merry Matchmaker

William was probably somewhere in his forties and still single. He was tall and long-faced, with stilt-like legs that made Frankie think of the famous character Ichabod Crane.

But his lack of looks was offset by a kind smile and a kind heart. He was one of the biggest contributors to the chamber of commerce’s Help Santa fund, which offered financial aid to parents who were struggling to pay their bills and provide presents for their children. Any organization looking for donations for their fundraiser could always count on William to donate books.

“Good morning, William,” Frankie called. “How are things at the bookstore?”

“A little slow,” he said, “but we’ll get busier this afternoon.”

“Are the streets still icy? They were when I got here, and I’m half thinking of calling Mom and telling her not to come in until later,” Frankie said.

“It’s starting to thaw,” he said. “She should be fine as long as she drives carefully.” He joined Elinor at the nearby tree she was restocking. “It looks like you got in some new ornaments.”

She held up a Christopher Radko. “I love this one.”

“That is nice. May I see it?” he asked.

Of course, he’d end up buying it.

Frankie’s mom blew in, bundled up in her favorite puffy black coat, a red scarf around her neck, a stocking cap on her head and red mittens on her hands.

“It’s freezing out there,” she announced. “I feel like I’ve been groped by Frosty the Snowman.”

“Eww, Mom,” Frankie said, shaking her head at her mother.

“That was kind of funny,” said William as Adele made her way to the office to shed her coat.

“Don’t say that to her. You’ll only encourage her,” said Frankie.

She followed her mother to the back room. It housed a desk complete with a computer and a chair to go under it, a cart with a microwave and a stack of cups—which no one used as they all frequented the coffee shop—along with a couple of ancient straight-backed chairs. It also held a filing cabinet with supplier invoices and three stacked boxes of merchandise that had recently arrived and hadn’t yet made it up to their storage space on the second floor.

“Okay, let’s hear the excuse,” Frankie teased as Adele hung her coat on one of the many hooks on the wall. “Besides icy streets. I was about to call and tell you to wait to come in.”

“The streets were fine. It took me a while to get going this morning. I had a terrible night’s sleep.”

Adele always had an excuse for sailing in late. Which she did frequently. Considering how much she did for so little, Frankie would never complain. Frankie was more than willing to pay her more, in fact, but every time she tried to give her mother a raise, Adele turned it down, saying, “I don’t need to be robbing you of your retirement money.”

So she pretty much came and went as she pleased, joked with the customers, sold people things they hadn’t realized they wanted and made outlandish statements. Everyone loved her.

No one more than Frankie. Adele had always been her best friend, her biggest fan, the rock she’d leaned on when she lost Ike.

“Did your terrible night have anything to do with drinking too much wine with the Bunco Babes?” Frankie teased.

Adele ignored her teasing. “I had this awful dream and then I couldn’t get back to sleep. I dreamed Fuzzy was alive, and he was all emaciated and trying to eat my arm.”

“Our long-departed cat was chewing on your arm?”

Adele was famous for her crazy dreams, and she was always sure they had meaning. “Yes, I think it’s a message.”

“From Fuzzy?”

“No,” Adele said in disgust. “From on high. I need to make a hefty donation to PAWS.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Frankie approved.

“I think you and Stef are supposed to make donations, too.”

“Even though Fuzzy wasn’t chewing on my arm.”

“He might if you don’t heed my warning.”

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