Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(2)

You might think with Raymond and Bethany both out of the picture I’d make things right for Eleanor and John, but I know my business and the timing was all wrong. They both had baggage, and it was way too much to shove into the basement and forget. So I waited almost nine years. Then on a balmy afternoon in the spring of 2010, they passed one another on Main Street in Medford. John’s hair had turned partly silver and Eleanor was about ten pounds heavier than she’d once been, but love doesn’t see things like that, so they recognized each other instantly.

Eleanor glanced sideways just as he was passing by. “John, John Gray?” she called out.

Before he turned and saw her face, Eleanor’s voice touched his heart. “Good grief,” he gasped, “Eleanor Shipley!” Without stopping for a second thought, he reached out and took hold of her hand. “It’s been ages,” he said, “and you look gorgeous as ever.”

Eleanor blushed a bit, not enough for John to notice, but me, well I see everything.

“It’s not Shipley anymore,” she said, “It’s Barrow.”

“Barrow, huh? So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Raymond Barrow. From Seattle.”

“Oh,” John sighed then he tried to cover his disappointment by mentioning that he too had gotten married. “You might’ve known my wife,” he said, “Bethany Drake, she graduated the same year we did.”

Eleanor pondered a moment then said, “Yes, yes, I remember Bethany, tall, blonde hair, very pretty. So you two are married…”

“Were,” John corrected, “Unfortunately Bethany passed away nine years ago. Automobile accident, terrible thing…”

“How awful,” Eleanor sighed and the sigh was not feigned, for she too knew the pain of such a loss. “My Raymond passed on eleven years ago. Colon cancer.”

John was not one to take joy in another’s suffering, but at that moment it was all he could do to keep from smiling. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Eleanor nodded and off they went.

The lunches and afternoon meetings became a regular thing, and then three weeks later he invited her to dinner.

I didn’t have to lift a finger on this match, all I did was step back and let love take its course. Eleanor and John were matched thirty years ago and watching them now was like watching a crocus spring forth from the snow covered ground. After three months they were seeing each other every evening, and after six months they were talking marriage.



You’d like to think a relationship such as this would be nothing short of wonderful, but remember even a rose has thorns.

Although Ray Junior is married and has a life of his own, he bristles at the mere mention of Eleanor dating. “A woman your age,” he says, “Are you out of your mind?” Like so many young people, Ray fails to realize that love knows no age. Inside of every heart there is a tiny spot that remains forever young. That’s the spot where love grows, where hope never dies and miracles can still happen. I’ve been around for more centuries than you can count, and not once have I encountered a person too old to love—too hard-hearted perhaps, but never too old.

A person doesn’t have to be all knowing to realize Ray Junior is going to present a challenge for Eleanor and John, but I’ve looked into the future and I can tell you that right now he isn’t their biggest problem, Lindsay Gray is.





Cupid…Here’s the Problem



Lindsay had been living in Manhattan for almost two years when she bypassed her second perfect match. After she ignored the English major, I figured I’d go with a more business-minded type, so on seven different occasions I arranged for her to be in the elevator with Christopher Roberts, the financial planner in apartment 7B. He was good to go, I could tell by the way he watched her from the back and offered to carry her groceries to the door.

“No thanks,” she said, “I’m okay with it.”

Lindsay’s tough to read. I can never tell if the spark is there or not, so I keep watching. The second time they meet, she gives him a big smile and he asks if she’s new in the building. This time she doesn’t turn her back.

Now it looks like she’s picking up on his lead, “No,” she says, “I’ve been here for two years.” The third time they meet, the elevator stops on three and he gets out when she does.

“Didn’t I see you at the Starbucks over on Second Avenue?” he asks.

She nods, “I stop there every morning, it’s close to where I work.”

“And…” he gives her a sexy little smile, “where’s that?”

“The Big Book Barn, on Seventeenth.” She tilts her head, looks directly into his eyes for thirty seconds and then turns back to the keys in her hand. Perfect. An invitation sprinkled with a touch of shyness. This is how it’s supposed to happen.

He asks if she likes Italian food and tells her about Antonio’s. “The Veal Parmigana is unbelievable,” he says. “The place is not much to look at from the outside, but inside it’s like an Italian trattoria. There’s this little courtyard where they have outdoor dining...”

“Sounds charming,” she says looking up again.

He can sense the way she’s eyeing him, so he asks if she’d like to have dinner this coming Saturday.