Page 29 of Fa-La-La-La Faking It
Adaline’s gaze flicked toward Jace. When he caught her looking at him, she glanced away, just like she’d done back in Mrs. Matthews’s classroom at Bluebonnet Elementary.
Her lack of personal growth in the romance department over the past twenty years was truly astonishing.
“Gram, seriously. I don’t want to get into this again right now,” Adaline whispered. On the plus side, at least her grandmother remembered their recent conversation about love and romance. Since Gram had experienced some disorientation afterward, she’d kind of thought that discussion had been lost forever. “Didn’t you say you have a gift for me?”
Surely Christmas was the safest topic on earth. What could possibly go wrong?
“Yes, and it’s right here.” Gram leaned toward the basket attached to her walker, which was parked directly in front of her. She reached over Coco to grab a thick, cream-colored envelope with a red bow stuck to the front of it and handed it to Adaline. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you.” She hugged her grandmother tight, then she turned the envelope over in her hands and wondered what could be inside.
Gram had passed her recipe box down to Adaline years ago. She kept it in a place of honor behind the counter at Cherry on Top. Half the pies Adaline made on a regular basis were from recipes straight out of that box. It was filled to bursting with cards that were yellowed with age, covered in Gram’s neat cursive handwriting. Gram had given her the box for her birthday nearly a decade ago, and Adaline had methodically worked her way through each and every card. It had taken over a year, but she’d eventually made every one of her grandmother’s treasured recipes and marked her favorites with gold stars.
Dare she hope that Gram had held a few recipes back and now had more to share?
A girl could dream.
“This is exciting,” Adaline said, slipping a fingertip beneath the envelope’s seal.
Gram’s eyes shined bright with anticipation. Adaline took a deep breath and looked inside. It contained a single sheet of paper. So, probably not a new assortment of vintage recipes. Still, Adaline felt a little giddy as she unfolded the page.
But then she read the swirly lettering at the top of the paper, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
Miss Maxi’s Matchmaking Service. Find the match of your dreams this Christmas! Satisfaction guaranteed.
“Um, what is this?” she said, stalling for time while she figured out how to refuse the gift. She’d have rather opened a box with a live rattlesnake coiled inside.
“It’s a gift certificate to a matchmaking service,” Gram said in a voice loud enough to cause a nearby resident to pull out his hearing aids. “The other day you said you didn’t think official matchmakers were a real thing. Well, I asked Barb to look it up for me on the interwebs, and guess what—they are. Surprise!”
Barb Haskin worked as the activity director for Bluebonnet Senior Living. She was a total doll, always coming up with new ways to entertain the residents and keep them socially involved. But she also happened to be one of the biggest busybodies in town...if not the whole state.
Adaline felt sick. If Barb knew about this—which she obviously did—then word was sure to spread around the senior center faster than a Texas wildfire on a windy day.Everyonewould know. Even a recluse like Mr. Martin would hear about it.
Which meant Jace would too.
Adaline’s head snapped in his direction before she could stop it, but he and his uncle weren’t there anymore. Thank goodness. Maybe she could nip this latest humiliation in the bud before it spun completely out of her control.
“Are you surprised?” Gram asked. Hope lit up her entire face.
“So,sosurprised,” Adaline said. How on earth was she going to get out of this?
A woman with short salt-and-pepper hair dressed in a Christmas-themed muumuu pointed her cane at the paper in Adaline’s hands. “What is it?”
“It’s a gift certificate for a matchmaking service,” Gram said at what had to be ten thousand decibels.
“A gift certificate for what?” Muumuu yelled back.
Gram cupped her hands around her mouth. “A MATCHMAKING SERVICE. YOU KNOW, SO ADALINE CAN FIND A BOYFRIEND.”
That was it. Adaline was going to have to close her bakery, pack up her dog and move to Antarctica, possibly the only place on the planet where no one had just heard that mortifying exchange.
“Gram, as sweet and thoughtful as this gift is, I just can’t accept it. I’m so sorry.” She somehow resisted the temptation to crush the gift certificate into a ball and instead neatly refolded it and slid it back into the envelope. Out of sight, out of mind.
That’s wishful thinking.
Adaline would remember this “gift” as long as she lived.
“Whyever not?” Gram asked, indignation creeping into her tone. “Now you won’t have to attend Ford’s wedding all alone.”
