Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(32)

Eleanor and John have the kind of love I’ve built my reputation on. If it weren’t so perfect I’d give up on it, because there are way too many complications. I’m one entity with seventy-eight thousand, four hundred and sixty-three matches to do this year alone. How can The Boss expect me to give every falling-in-love-human my undivided attention?

The truth is I could use a vacation. If I asked for one, you know what He’d say: Love never takes a vacation. That might be true, but I’m thinking maybe a day off…

~

As far as Lindsay is concerned, the situation is starting to take a turn for the better. For weeks she’d been avoiding Eleanor, squirreling herself away in her room, sleeping late, looking at magazines or playing on her laptop. Even when her stomach was grumbling for food, she skipped breakfast because it meant sitting opposite Eleanor.

This morning was different. She was awake before the six-thirty alarm buzzed, and by seven-fifteen she was dressed and ready to go. When she walked into the kitchen, Eleanor was making coffee.

“Mmm, smells good,” Lindsay said. She poured herself a cup of coffee and purposely sat in the chair alongside Eleanor. They talked for almost twenty minutes but not one word of the conversation was about John, nor was it edged with that all too familiar cynicism. Had I not seen that it was Eleanor sitting next to Lindsay, I could have easily believed the girl was talking to Amanda or one of her other friends. Eleanor told Lindsay everything she knew about Matthew and the Kindness Animal Clinic, and Lindsay, in turn, told Eleanor about the dog she’s been searching for.

“I just know I’m meant to have that dog,” Lindsay said.

“I felt the same way when I found Canner,” Eleanor replied. “I named him Canner because that’s where I found him, behind a bunch of garbage cans out back of the school.”

“How long did you have Canner?” Lindsay asked.

“Well, now, let’s see. When I found him I was eleven years old and when he died I was seventeen, but I’ve got no way of knowing how old he was when I found him.”

“Wow, six years. I’ll bet you really loved him, didn’t you?”

“Goodness gracious, yes. When Canner died I cried for months on end.” Eleanor sighed. “My stepdad was real nice and offered to buy me a new dog, but I told him no dog could ever replace Canner. That was like trying to replace a member of the family.”

Hanging onto every word, Lindsay said, “Did you have any sisters or brothers?”

Eleanor shook her head. “No, but I surely did wish for one. Being an only child can be pretty darn lonely.”

“It was the same for me!” Lindsay cut in. “I had this two-foot tall doll, and I used to pretend she was my sister. I wouldn’t even eat dinner if Genevieve wasn’t sitting at the table.” Lindsay gave a long regretful sigh. “I hung on to that doll for years and took it with me when I went off to college.”

“Do you still have it?”

“No,” she said sadly. “One night we had a big party at the sorority house, and the next morning Genevieve was gone.” Lindsay was about to explain how she’d posted reward notices for Genevieve’s return, but the clock chimed eight and she had to get going.

Eleanor walked to the door with her. “You have the directions, right?”

“Unh-hunh.” Lindsay nodded, then she climbed into her car and drove off.





As Lindsay drove, she found herself thinking about Eleanor. Not the Eleanor who was constantly clinging to her father’s arm, but a young girl who was lonely and sad, a girl whose real father had been replaced by a stepdad. At least he was nice, Lindsay thought.

Then she began wondering what had happened to Eleanor’s real dad. Caught up in those thoughts, she didn’t see the clinic’s sign until she whizzed past the driveway. Once she’d passed it she had to drive four more blocks, circle around three blocks and come back on the other side of the road. The second time around she carefully watched for the turnoff, and when the sign came into view she pulled into the parking lot.





The Kindness Animal Clinic. The name alone caused Lindsay to conjure the image of someone her father’s age, a man with silver hair, soft hands and a Santa Claus stomach. She was wrong on all but one count: he did have soft hands.

Matthew Mead had dark eyes, dark hair and broad shoulders. He looked like the type of man she’d meet at the gym. She mentally removed his white lab coat and pictured him in a skintight tee and jeans. He was definitely the type. In days gone past, Lindsay knew, she would have fallen head over heels in love with just such a man, but not now. Contrary to what people think, bad memories don’t bury themselves. They continue to bleed into every waking moment, like a gash that refuses to heal regardless of how much Neosporin is slathered onto it.

She dredged up her interview smile and extended her hand. “Lindsay Gray. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His smile mirrored hers: friendly, pleasant enough, but definitely not an invitation to something more. He didn’t lead Lindsay back to his private office but motioned for her to have a seat right there in the reception area. He sat across from her and leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

“So,” he said. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

Lindsay fumbled through her purse, pulled out a copy of her resume and handed it to him. “There’s not much to tell,” she said nervously. “I’ve had two years’ experience dealing with customers in the bookstore, and although I’m interested in animals—dogs in particular—I’ve never worked with them before.”