The Matchmaker's Gift(84)

“They look good!” Abby told him. “Did Nicole help pick them out?”

Will almost choked on his poppy seed bagel, but Abby had made up her mind to be honest. While he was still coughing, she tried to explain. “Whatever is going on with the two of you is a good thing. But I’d love it if you and I could still be friends.”

Will wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and cleared a few poppy seeds from his throat. “I don’t … how did you know about Nicole? Not that anything’s happened—it hasn’t, I swear. But—”

“But you spent the entire weekend together and you’re starting to have feelings for each other.”

Will stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you some kind of fortune-teller or something?”

“Let’s just say I’m a particularly observant person.”

“Abby, I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings. I really do think you’re amazing. But I never really felt like you were that into me.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “The two of us aren’t a match, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, Nicole’s getting married in a month, so it’s not like she and I are a perfect match either.”

Abby shook her head. “You don’t know that, Will. A lot of couples have to overcome obstacles. Have you told Nicole how you feel?”

Will frowned. “Not in so many words. We speak on the phone about her business a million times a day, but I’m pretty sure most of it is just an excuse for us to keep talking to each other. Neither of us ever wants to hang up. We make each other laugh … I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Then why not tell her that?”

“You know why, Abby—she’s engaged.”

Abby took a bite of her sandwich while she contemplated what to say to Will next. She thought about her conversation with Jessica that morning. How much was Abby willing to give up in order to help Will and Jessica find love? Was she really willing to sacrifice her career?

What if Abby decided to choose her job instead? She could tell Will that Nicole would never break off the engagement. She could persuade Jessica that her matchmaking intuition had been wrong, and that Victor was meant to marry his fiancée. All Abby had to do was tell a few lies, rebuild Diane’s trust, and bide her time. Then, everything could go back to the way it used to be.

But as Abby stared down at her plate, she realized “the way it used to be” was no longer what she wanted. Her grandmother had known what Abby was capable of. Sara knew Abby would never become a full-time matchmaker, but she also knew that Abby needed to open her eyes to the possibility that there was still more for her to discover: more fulfillment to be gained from her career, more confidence to be found within herself, more love in the world than she could have imagined.

Abby swallowed her food and turned to Will. “Just because Nicole is engaged doesn’t mean she’s going to get married. If you truly think the two of you share something special, you owe it to yourself—and to her—to tell her how you feel.”



* * *



After lunch, Abby went back to her grandmother’s building, where Paul was waiting behind the front desk. “Back so soon?” he asked her, smiling. “Wait one minute and I’ll get the key.”

“That’s okay,” Abby said. “I don’t need to go up. Actually, I came by to talk to you.”

“Me?” Paul asked. “Well, that’s a nice surprise. Is there something I can help you with?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to begin; she bit her lower lip and paced in front of his desk. “Paul, did you know that my grandmother used to be a matchmaker?”

Her reticence seemed to amuse him. “Don’t look so worried—of course I did! Mrs. Auerbach wasn’t shy about it. I’ve come out of retirement, she used to say. She had a special name for it. A shadko … shadcho…”

“Shadchanteh,” Abby told him.

Paul snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” he said. “Like I told you, everybody in the building loved your grandmother. She practiced her hobby on a lot of us, actually.” He frowned. “Only I’m not supposed to call it a hobby—your grandmother didn’t like me saying that. Anyway, whatever you want to call it, Mrs. Auerbach was responsible for quite a few couples in the neighborhood.” He began to list them on his fingers. “Mr. Singh in 11B, Dr. Salcedo in 5A. The pharmacist at the drug store on the corner, Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s granddaughter, Vicki…” He began to blush. “Me too, of course.”

“Paul! That’s wonderful!” Abby told him.

Paul nodded. “Albert is a special man,” he said softly. “And we owe our happiness to your grandmother. Marriage isn’t legal in New York for us yet. But we’re going to fight until it is.” He pointed to a chair in the corner of the lobby. “She used to sit there with a book every morning and watch the tenants come and go.”

Abby stopped pacing and smiled at Paul. “My grandmother loved you, you know. She called you a mensch—the highest compliment she ever gave.” Abby took a few steps toward the upholstered chair and pictured her grandmother sitting on it, offering greetings and advice to passersby as unreservedly as always.

If you can’t decide what you want to fight for, love is as good a cause as any.