Page 6 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

I cleared my throat. Margaret spotted me first and let out a cry of delight, which Dorothy must have interpreted as panic, because Dorothy whipped around toward me, holding the pine garland like she’d strangle me with it. Then her face cleared, and she recognized me. “Sean!”

Unfortunately, the rough whirling had set her A-frame ladder wobbling, and the delight on her face morphed to horror.

In three long strides, I was beside her. I grabbed the ladder to stop it from moving, but Dorothy had overshot her attempt to balance it. She let out a squeak, I held out my arms, and thenmy kookiest aunt landed on top of me. I staggered, caught my balance, and set her on her feet.

Without missing a beat, Dorothy flung her arms around my shoulders and planted a loud kiss on my cheek. “Sean! You made it! And you caught me! My hero!”

“Help me down, honey,” Margaret called out, still perched on top of the stepladder on the reception desk. A minute later, she was on her feet, planting a kiss on my opposite cheek.

My twin aunts beamed at me, and I forced my lips into an answering smile. My face seemed to creak at the effort of unfamiliar muscles straining to make the shape.

“Where’s Mikey?” Dorothy asked, glancing over my shoulder.

“Dropped him off at school before coming here,” I explained.

“You have to come over for dinner. Both of you,” Margaret commanded. “Hamish is a wonderful cook.”

“You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but it’s true,” Dorothy added, which made Margaret roll her eyes.

“Who’s Hamish? And why wouldn’t you know it to look at him?”

“Hamish is my lover,” Margaret answered. “He rides a motorcycle.”

“He rides ahog,” Dorothy corrected.

Margaret nodded proudly. “So you’ll come for dinner?”

“Sure,” I answered, and my aunts smiled like I’d just given them the world. Despite my misgivings about moving back here, my shoulders relaxed. This was exactly the reason I’d made the move—family. Community.

Mikey and I had struggled in San Francisco in the three years since the divorce, and even with child support from my ex and as much work as I could manage, I hadn’t been able to make the numbers work. Living was more affordable in Heart’s Cove, and my aunts had made sure to put in a good word for me with a local carpenter. So not only was I walking into a full-time job,but I might also actually be able to finally gain some stability. My son might have a chance at a better life. I’d be able to watch him grow up instead of catching snippets with him while I shoveled dinner into him and sent him to bed.

That’s when the door at the back of the lobby opened, and a man a few years older than me stepped out wearing a denim shirt and tan work pants. He nodded to me and turned to my aunts. “Easels are fixed. I put some extra bracing on a few of the wobblier ones, so you shouldn’t have any more art class mishaps.”

“Wonderful,” Dorothy exclaimed, smiling. She pushed her hair over her shoulder and gestured to me. “This is our nephew, Sean. Sean, this is Grant, the lovely young man we told you about.”

Grant’s lips curled slightly at that description, since he looked like he was pushing fifty, and he reached over to shake my hand. He had an easy, friendly look about him, but he studied me with incisive eyes. “Heard you were looking for work.”

“I am,” I told him. “Just moved back to town with my son.”

“Things generally slow down in the winter, but I’ve been swamped with projects leading up to the holidays. If you’re happy to start today, we can head over to a job after this. New kitchen, all custom joinery. We can talk about the particulars and see if the two of us are a good fit.”

“Sounds good,” I said. If things worked out with Grant, it’d be one less thing to worry about.

“Fantastic!” Margaret said. “I knew this was a good idea.”

“Technically, it was my idea, but who’s keeping track,” Dorothy put in.

Margaret ignored her. “Now you boys go on and get to work. Dorothy and I will finish up here.”

I glanced at the garland, then at the precarious stepladders, then at Grant. When I arched my brows, he grinned.

“We’ll give you a hand,” he said, and I figured I liked the guy for that alone. Ten minutes later, the holiday decorations were up and my aunts were still alive, so Grant and I headed out to a job across town.

I followed him in my truck and took a deep breath, my shoulders dropping another inch as I relaxed into the seat.

A job, a good school, my two remaining family members, and a smattering of people from my past. Things could be worse. I could be struggling through fourteen-hour days, keeping my son in San Fran on the off chance his mother decided to blow through town and see him between her business obligations.

Now I hadsomething, at least. The beginnings of a support system. A chance. Maybe I’d be able to get my head above water after all this time.

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