Page 3 of Always the Matchmaker

“Hi, Daddy.” No matter how old I am, I’m forever his little girl. “I’m in town. Have been for a few days. My cars broken down though and this man- this silly mechanic is telling me your—our—address ishisaddress.”

There’s silence on the other line.

“Hello?” I hear him cough and I sigh, now knowing the truth.

Dad never could give me bad news. The doctors had to call me when Mom went downhill so quickly. He just couldn’t do it.

Shit, he wasn’t kidding. I look over my shoulder to see Ben staring at me, hands gripping the tied sleeves of his jumpsuit like a belt buckle.The nerve of him to look so smug.

“Dad!” I say more sternly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I’m whisper yelling, pressing a shaking hand to my forehead.

“I know how much the house means to you…” he trails off.

“But I could’ve helped you. Selling a home and moving are big things! I’m a real estate agent, that’s my entire job and you didn’t even want my help.” The heartache in my voice affects him and a long sigh resonates through the phone.

“Baby girl, I’m sorry,” he says softly. “But with your mother gone, it’s too much house for me and it’s too much reminder of the absence she left behind. I live in the retirement village now and I quite like it, too. I have friends. They have activities.” His happiness digs into me. “I miss your mother dearly, but I needed to be around people. People my age,” he adds as if he can hear me about to tell him he has me.

I bite my lip, thinking, putting the pieces together and steadying my façade so Mr. Cross can’t see how upset I am.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. You’ve every right to move on and be with people. I just wish you’d told me or let me help.”

“We both know you’d have kept that house to yourself, Candy. Or rather you’d have put an absurd price tag on it, so no one in this little town could afford it.”

I laugh. He’s right. I would’ve done one or both of those things.

His voice returns with a lighter air. “I got a good price, fair, and I made money on it even. I’m living comfortably.”

I’m delighted for him but it brings tears to my eyes. My childhood home, gone, just like that. I hadn’t seen it for three years now. He spent Christmas with me in Denver since her passing, it was too hard to put up decorations alone in the house for my father.

“Good, I’m glad you were smart about it then.” I sniffle and straighten up, putting my big-girl panties back on. “I’ll come ‘round tomorrow and see you in your new home.AndI’ll bring your favorite pastry from the bakery.”

“You remind me of your mother so much. She used to spoil me, too.”

“Because you’re worth being spoiled.”

“So are you, Candace.”

I swallow down the harsh emotions boiling in me, tell him I love him, and we say good-bye.

I turn around and charge my way back into the garage. Ben’s busying himself with picking his fingernails clean with the music back to maximum volume.

“Tow it,” I shout over the lyrics to a rock anthem I’m unfamiliar with. “I’m the customer. This is what I want.” I rest my hands on my hips.

His gaze rakes over my body and he smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s your money, Candy Cane,” he gives in but not without a cheap shot at my name again.

“It’s Miss Owens to you.” I push my business card into his chest. “Call me when it’s done.”

I storm out, done with the loud musi,c and the man boiling my blood until I swear I’m on fire inside. I’m surprised when the snow doesn’t melt beneath my feet, but the brisk walk does me good to ease my temper.

“Red hair and a fiery temper to match,” my mother would tell me.Boy, was she ever right about that.

I take a long path into town, meeting up with girls for some shopping in the downtown, all but Wynter is there. She’s too busy doing god-knows-what with her handcuffs and the sexy chef, who I hear makes the best hot chocolate around.

And it’s good to see Belle out of her lover’s den again. She has a liveliness to her that I’m envious of. Cohen had certainly put a spring in her step and a smile on her face…among other things, I hear.

And as I examined their fortunes, I realized how tired the solo-scene was making me. At the Snow Ball last night, I had been hoping for my own prince charming and while I danced about every dance, there were no sparks and I’m tired of dancing in circles.

I aimlessly look through a clothes rack in a small boutique, impressed by the selection of plus-sizes.