Page 13 of Sweetwater and the Witch

“Sweetwater is stable, trust me. He’s also as stubborn as a rock. I practically begged him to cancel the contract and accept a refund.”

“Speaking as a professional, I have to tell you something isn’t adding up here,” Sybil said. “An engineering talent, even a very strong one, combined with the Sweetwater name should have made for a doable match, even factoring in the Kavanagh affair.”

“I know.”

“Maybe not the most romantic match in the history of Covenant Marriage,” Sybil allowed. “Maybe not a match filled with grand passion. But so what? When it comes to a Covenant Marriage, smart people look for more important and long-lasting elements, such as trust and friendship and mutual respect. Sure, there must be a degree of physical attraction, but it doesn’t have to be the whole swept-away-on-wings-of-rapturous-moonlight thing.”

Ravenna frowned. “ ‘Wings of rapturous moonlight’?”

“You know what I mean.”

Ravenna grimaced. “I do, and I agree with you. The Kavanagh affair certainly didn’t help, but I was sure I could find a good match for him. He suggested the problem is his dating technique, and after listening to the after-action reports from the nine matches, I’m pretty sure he’s right.”

“Even if that’s the case, what makes you think he’d listen to advice? In my experience, people don’t change; they want everyone else to change instead. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Sybil returned to the sled, picked up a large package, and carried it to the stage. Harriet chortled and bounced up onto the last tier of seats.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Sybil said. She opened the package. “I still can’t believe I was so wrong when I matched you with Garrett Willis. He looked like a good match. Not perfect, but let’s face it, we in thematchmaking business know there is no such thing as perfect. Still, the two of you should have been a reasonably comfortable fit. You’re both strong talents. You have a lot in common. You each come from solid families.”

“He’s in the casino business, Sybil.”

“So?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be the wife of a casino mogul.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t have moved to Illusion Town,” Sybil said. “Casino moguls are pillars of the community here.”

“You’ve got me there,” Ravenna said. “I will admit he seemed like a very nice person. It was a pleasant evening. I learned a lot about how to calculate odds and I got several tips on poker that may come in handy someday. Oh, and there was an interesting discussion about how to deal with psychic card counters.”

“There, you see?” Sybil emptied the contents of the package into the kettle. “It wasn’t a bad match.”

“Willis wasn’t any more excited than me,” Ravenna said. “Afterward we both agreed to keep dating others.”

“What went wrong with Clark Hatch? I was sure that one would work out.”

“Again, a nice guy, but he spent the entire evening telling me about the plot of his next psychic vampire thriller.” Ravenna brightened. “I did learn a few things about the publishing industry.”

“So not a wasted evening.”

“I’m starting to think I’m even harder to match than Sweetwater,” Ravenna said.

“Nonsense.”

“I’m serious. We knew it would be a difficult process, but it’s turning out worse than I imagined, and we both know why.”

“Your talent is... complicated,” Sybil admitted. She crumpled the empty package. “But I’m not giving up on you.”

“Thanks,” Ravenna said. “Most professionals would have after so many failed dates. I’m at thirty-six and counting.”

“I never give up on a client,” Sybil said. “Well, almost never. Mostly I try to avoid the ones I know I won’t be able to match.”

“That’s what we do at Ottoway,” Ravenna said. She put the lid on the pot. “But apparently you can’t just dump a Sweetwater.”

Muffled chortles sounded in the distance. Harriet bounced up and down a few times, buzzed on dust bunny adrenaline.

“I think the guests are arriving,” Ravenna said. “Brace yourself.”

The pack of excited dust bunnies raced around a corner and dashed into the theater. There was much enthusiastic chortling as fifteen or twenty oversized wads of dryer lint took up positions on the benches. Once in place, they fixed their attention on the stage. Silence fell.

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