Page 12 of The Matchmaker's Melody
That didn’t mean he was entirely pleased with what he had learned.
“You’re spending a lot of time with Jean-François,” he opined to Emma over the phone the following night. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d phoned her, but he felt he needed to talk a few things through.
She, it seemed, was not of a similar mind. “And what business is it of yours?”
Good question. “I’ve looked after you since you were five years old, and it’s a habit.” He paused. “I worry about you.”
He did not appreciate her laugh.
“Oh, Gordon, that’s cute and all, but I can take very good care of myself. I can make my own friends, and I don’t need a pseudo-big brother charging in to keep me safe. Besides, what’s wrong with Jean-François, anyway? He’s perfectly charming.”
“He’s too charming. He’s too suave and perfect, but he’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. There’s something I don’t trust about him.”
She laughed again. “He’s just more cosmopolitan than you’re used to. All that Quebecois elegance, it’s almost European. He’s just sophisticated, that’s all.”
Gordon forced himself to stop grinding his teeth. This wasn’t going the way he wanted. “It’s more than that. I’ve known lots of people from Montreal, and believe it or not, lots of Europeans, too, and it's not that. I tell you, there’s something he’s hiding.”
Silence at the other end of the line. Then, “Are we going to get into a fight about him, too?” She blew out a quick puff of air. “Besides, I know how to read people, remember? It’s my thing, my forte. It’s how I’m so successful as an influencer. You just don’t have my knack. I’d know if something was off with him, and I assure you, it’s not. So, let’s leave it.”
“Fine. But what about Phil? And Halli? You’re flirting pretty heavily with Jean-François, and eventually Phil is going to get into a knot about it.”
He heard a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ve told you before. I’m smoothing things over for Phil and Halli. They’re both a bit shy, and it’s taking time. They’re getting more and more comfortable with each other, and he’ll ask her out soon. You’ll see. You’re just worrying about nothing.”
Definitely not going the way he wanted.
“Fine. Just… Emma, I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Take care.”
“Yes, big brother,” she muttered, and said goodbye before hanging up the phone.
But Emma’s assurances aside, Gordon lay awake for a long time that night, unable to quiet an unsettled feeling and that persistent voice at the back of his head, insisting something was going to go very wrong, very soon.
CHAPTER7
THE GALA
Many people dreaded November,with its dropping temperatures, leaden skies, and incessant rain. The glory of autumn’s leaves had faded to a memory, but the crisp pristine beauty of a snow-covered landscape was still weeks away. The city lay brown and grey, from the streets to the dead gardens to the buildings to the sky. Even the choices of clothing had transformed from the lighter and varied shades of colour to the unspoken uniform of black. Black coat, black hats, black gloves.
Gloomy, dull November.
Emma loved it.
For her, November was when people retreated to their homes in search of something to cheer them up and brighten their dreary days. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, everyone was in search of entertainment and ideas for the holidays, and she was the perfect person to offer them both. Her viewer numbers always rose as the temperatures dropped, and she made an extra effort to be her effervescent self while talking about different party ideas, the best way to wrap awkwardly-shaped gifts—gift bags, of course, and they were reusable—and the latest products she had come across that wereperfectfor that hard-to-buy-for someone on everybody’s list.
Not only was her business booming, but November was also the month when the parties began. Early company holiday parties, friendly gatherings and occasional cocktail parties to fill the long evenings, after-theatre drinks and snacks: she loved them all. Because next to being adored on her various social media channels, Emma’s favourite thing was strutting her stuff on the live social scene.
The big event this year was the fundraising gala for the symphony. This was an annual event, held at a luxury downtown hotel, where quadruple-digit tickets bought you an evening of excellent food, perfectly-paired wine, hobnobbing with everyone who was anyone, and dancing ’til dawn. There was live music, and the speeches were actually interesting, from what she’d heard. This year, rumour had it, the new conductor was talking about a piece being commissioned for the orchestra, by the same composer who had written the new piece the Eglinton Echoes had just performed.
Usually Emma’s parents attended, representing the company and schmoozing with the crème-de-la-crème of Toronto society. This year, they were unable to make it. Her father and Mr. Knight had flown down to Rio for a series of meetings with a Brazilian company in a similar line of business, and her mother and Mrs Knight had gone along for the ride. Why not make a holiday of it, after all? Her sister Isobel, although in line to take over from her father when he finally retired, hated formal events and the limelight. And Jon, Gordon’s brother, was also away at a friend’s wedding that weekend. Consequently, she and Gordon had been asked—commanded, really—to take the tickets and represent Massey and Knight at the gala, with all that entailed.
Emma didn’t have to be asked twice. She lived for this stuff. The dress, the shoes, the fancy nails, the fabulous bling—the cameras wouldn’t be able to get enough of her. This would be her first really big function, far fancier than the fashion shows and launch events she’d been to in the past. Yes, she’d been at one of the after-parties for the film festival this past summer and her picture had landed in the weekend newspaper, and she was asked to appear at the kick-off to one of the big cultural food festivals recently, but this was the Big Time.
She could just imagine the fabulous wealth of photographs she would get from the evening. Oh, yes, she would use the event to splash glamorous pictures all over the internet, hopefully gaining more likes, followers, and viewers, and attracting more companies to consider her for their promotional efforts.
It would be a personal and business triumph, she knew it.
It also suited her to be going with Gordon. He was the obvious choice to escort her, of course, being the son of the other company founder, but it pleased her at a personal level, too. Despite their arguments, she was enjoying this new friendship that was growing out of their long-time association with each other, and she was comfortable with him. He might chastise her or be too big-brother-ish, but he was a genuinely good guy. Besides, she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather have on her arm. She wasn’t dating anyone, and while she loved flirting with Jean-François, and enjoyed his company when they went out with a group, he hadn’t quite made his way into her heart yet.
It was odd, really, with his charm and striking good looks, she had been quite ready to fall madly in love with him at a glance, but that hadn’t happened. As much fun as she had with him when they were together, she hardly thought of him between the moment they said goodbye and the next time they saw each other. Perhaps they were both just too busy, but the interest she first felt in him had never developed into anything else. Yet.
