Page 8 of Game, Set, MatchMaker

Interesting.

Not interesting enough to deter me from trying to get nutrients into my bloodstream as fast as possible. With my mind on hauling in the rest of the stuff from my truck back into the cabin quickly, I head for the door. I leave it propped open, hustle to my truck, and grab my bike out of the bed.

I never leave this puppy outside. The thing’s worth three grand. I love this neighborhood and I’m a trusting guy, but I also know that it’s best not to tempt fate. I wheel my baby into the garage, where my dad keeps his two “Vermont cars,” a rusted Jeep and a refurbished classic Cadillac that he and my mom like to take out sightseeing, when they get around to it.

Which they haven’t in years, as far as I can tell.

Mom likes the city more than the bugs and ice and mud of Vermont, and Dad’s too busy working to stop and smell the roses—or the falling leaves, depending on the season.

Back at the truck, I load so many plastic grocery bags on one arm that I’m pretty sure I’m cutting off my own circulation. I slam the old truck’s door closed and hike back to the door. Once inside, I notice that the shower’s not running any more.

The next thing I see is a woman—petite, with wet, brown hair piled on top of her head in a bun.

She might be twenty or she might be sixty. It’s hard to tell, given the fact that she has some sort of green paste smeared all over her face and she’s wearing a plaid potato-sack nightgown instead of actual clothes.

“Parker?” the woman gasps.

That voice. I know that voice.

“Whoa, Gem, is that you?” I laugh before I can stop myself. “What’s up with the alien mask? And the nightgown? I didn’t even know chicks wore nightgowns anymore. Where’d you get that thing?”

Wow, it’s good to see Gemma.

Unexpected, but that’s how the best things always happen—unexpectedly, like little surprises that the Big Guy Upstairs lines up and then tucks down on earth like Easter Eggs for us humans to stumble on.

“What are you doing here?” I walk toward her, still laughing. Still amazed at the turn of events. No uptight Wayland couple after all. Tonight, I get to hang with Gem.

I want to hug her. Of course I want to hug her. I haven’t seen Gemma Lafferty in ages.

Since, what… Carly’s graduation from B.U.? That was… wow. Six years ago. Time flies.

Gemma, apparently, isn’t interested in a reunion hug. She seems flustered as she ducks under my arm and strides barefoot to the door. “Yes, this is a nightgown. And I got it from your mother, by the way, for Christmas one year. And she got it here, in Vermont, at the Flannel Outlet store, and—Wait. What areyoudoing here? Your dad said I could use this place and he said nothing about you being here.”

“Yeah, I’m sort of trying to fly under the radar. And if we could keep it that way…”

She reaches the door and her eyebrows pinch as she stares down at the ski boots I used to prop it open. Then she frowns and hugs herself as she steps outside into the darkness. “Parker, why’d you prop the door?” She looks left and right, then out toward the road. “Did you see a cat? Little, gray, pretty thing?”

When she whirls back to face me, I can tell that her face, beneath all that green goo, has turned pink as though she’s upset.

Upset about what? The cat?

“Nah, no cat. But I was in the garage putting away my bike.”

She huffs angrily, closes the door with a bang, and then cranes her head toward the guest room. “Queenie…? Queenie…?” she calls.

“Is Queenie your cat?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure you let her out. Oh my god, this is a disaster already.”

“Already? What’s that supposed to mean?”

What is Smarty Pants Gemma doing in Pines Peak, anyway?I wonder, as I watch her stride over to the guest room, her hands on her narrow hips.

Now that she’s pinning the giant swath of fabric to her sides, I can tell she’s still as fit as ever. Maybe a little slimmer and leaner than she used to be, even.

I remember how good she used to look in that little bikini she’d wear around the house, back when her and Carly were all about tanning out by the pool.

Back then, Gemma was Miss Perfect. Miss Valedictorian. Miss Goody Two Shoes.

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