Читать книгу A Match for the Doctor / What the Single Dad Wants…: A Match for the Doctor - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 7

Maizie Sommers leaned back in her chair, silently observing the somber-faced, stylishly dressed woman who had marched into her real-estate office, quite obviously on a mission.

Few things surprised Maizie these days, but this had. She hadn’t said a word since the woman entered and started talking. That was almost ten minutes ago, and she was still talking.

Ruth Cassidy, her senior by some three years, was not in the market either to buy or sell a house. She was in the market for a man. Specifically, for a husband. More specifically, a husband for her beautiful and exceedingly selective twenty-eight-year-old daughter, Kennon.

Although Maizie hadn’t seen the young woman very often in the last fifteen years, she had always been very fond of Kennon, who was her late husband’s niece.

As for being fond of Ruth, well, not so much. But that had been both Ruth’s choice as well as her fault.

Ruth had made it very clear, right from the beginning, that she didn’t approve of Maizie or think that she was good enough for her older brother, Terrence.

Ruth never called him Terry, the way she did, Maizie remembered.

As Ruth gave every sign of droning on, Maizie suddenly placed her hands on the padded armrests, pushed down and rose from the Italian leather chair she’d had specially made for her. It had been her first frivolous purchase. If she needed to put in long hours at her desk, she intended to be comfortable doing it.

Without a word, Maizie walked over to the front window. She looked out onto the main thoroughfare that passed by the office, searching for something.

Ruth twisted around to get a better view of her former sister-in-law. “What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

Maizie didn’t turn around but continued gazing out the window as she quietly replied, “Looking to see which of the horsemen is first.”

“What horsemen? What are you talking about?” On her feet now, Ruth stared out through the window herself at the usual midmorning traffic.

“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” Maizie replied. She turned away from the window to face Ruth. Her sister-in-law still had her looks. And still retained that superior attitude. “The way I see it, since you’re here, talking to me, asking for a favor, either hell is freezing over or the end of the world is coming, and I can’t see hell from my window.”

Ruth glared at her, then exhaled loudly in exasperation. “All right, maybe I had that coming.”

“Maybe?” Maizie echoed softly, an amused eyebrow raising high over crystal-blue eyes.

Ruth threw up her hands in desperation. “All right, I did have that coming. That, and maybe even more.” The words seemed to burn on her tongue, but she pushed on. “I’m sorry, but I always thought you stole Terrence away from what would have been a very good match for him. Sandra Herrington was wealthy and her family went all the way back to the Mayflower.”

Maizie was well aware of her former rival’s pedigree—and the fact that her late husband always swore she’d saved him from an eternity of unspeakable boredom. But, for the sake of peace, she said enigmatically, “Yes, I know.”

Ruth frowned. “I was wrong, okay?”

Maizie had never thought of herself as a genius, but she was also far from stupid or gullible. “You’re only saying that because you want my help.”

About to deny Maizie’s assumption, Ruth finally shrugged in a helpless manner. “Well, it’s a start, isn’t it?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I made a mistake coming here. It’s just that I heard that you and your friends were running some kind of matchmaking service on the side—”

Maizie shook her head. It absolutely amazed her how rumors were born out of twisted half-truths.

“It’s not a ‘service,'” she corrected. “Since Theresa, Cecilia and I have our own businesses in very public-oriented fields,” she said, referring to her two very best friends, women she’d known and been close to since the third grade, “we just decided to keep our eyes open for possible suitable matches for our daughters.” She smiled, exceedingly pleased. Plumbing the depths of their client lists for eligible men had been her idea initially and it had succeeded far better than she’d ever dreamed. All three of their daughters, plus Theresa’s son, Kullen, had been gently nudged into relationships that now had every indication of lasting forever. “As it turned out, things went well.”

Ruth sank down in the chair again, her dark eyes riveted to her sister-in-law’s face. “I need them to ‘go well’ for Kennon. The way things are going, after that horrible man she wasted all those years on decided he loved someone else and just dumped her, Kennon has done nothing but work. She hasn’t gone out on a date even once in almost a year. I don’t want her to wind up alone,” Ruth concluded with sincerity.

“No dates at all?” Maizie repeated. God, did that ever sound familiar. “She told you this?”

“A mother knows,” Ruth informed her. She further relayed how she “knew” because she’d gone out of her way to draw Kennon’s assistant, Nathan, into her camp. She’d won the young man over with her coconut cream pies, exchanging them for information.

The wheels in Maizie’s head were already turning as inherent instincts, centuries old, rose now to the fore. “Does Kennon still own that interior decorating shop?”

“She all but lives there.” Seeing the look in Maizie’s eyes, Ruth slid to the edge of her chair, hope taking hold. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“As it happens, I just sold a beautiful, empty house to a newly transplanted widower. He needs a decorator badly.” Maizie hit several keys on her computer, pulling up the information she needed. “He just moved here from the San Francisco area. The man has two small daughters.” Maizie watched her former sister-in-law’s face to see her reaction.

It was apparent that Ruth saw potential here. “A jump start on becoming a grandmother. I can live with that.” She leaned in closer. “What does he do for a living?”

Maizie smiled. “He’s a cardiovascular surgeon.”

“A doctor?” Ruth cried. She began to glow with enthusiasm. “Maizie, I think I love you. All is forgiven.”

“Nice to know,” Maizie said dryly.

Sarcasm had always been wasted on her late husband’s sister. Now was no exception.

Some things never changed, Maizie thought as she looked up Dr. Simon Sheffield’s cell phone number.