Page 8 of The Matchmaker's Melody
Emma was an independent adult, to be sure, and could arrange her own life, but when the families gathered, she knew she had to be there. And, she admitted, talking to Gordon wasn’t quite as awful as it could be, even if he was boring and grumpy and didn’t know how to enjoy life. Since their pizza dinner a couple of weeks prior, she’d thought about him a bit and decided he was more interesting than she’d remembered. And so, she would attend the Thanksgiving gathering with something close to pleasure.
The Massey family had owned the cottage for four generations, gradually enlarging and improving it from a draughty shack to a rather nice four-season house with enough room for a few guests, if people didn’t mind sleeping on couches and sharing rooms. It was no mansion, but it was more than comfortable enough for a group of old and close friends who were more interested in each other’s good company than in any particular luxury.
There would be canoeing and strolls along the lake, a trip to an apple orchard or an arts and crafts fair, a lot of cooking and baking, and time spent around the old piano, singing bits and pieces of Gilbert and Sullivan very poorly. If nothing else, Gordon could be relied upon for his musical skills.
With this in mind, Emma puttered happily about her small apartment, packing the few things she needed for the weekend, all the while humming Yum Yum’s glorious aria fromThe Mikado. “...We really know our worth, the sun and I…” She needed her walking boots, a fleece pullover, that cute hat she’d found last week…
Her musings were interrupted by a bright ping from her phone. Not Gordon. He never texted.
She put down her new mini-suitcase (another product she was trying, so chic in that gorgeous deep emerald green) and went to see who it was.
Halli. What could she want? The cute hat forgotten, Emma clicked onto the message and groaned.
Halli was all excited. Rob the chair-guy had sent her an email, asking if she was in town for the long weekend, and if she wanted to go biking somewhere. What should she tell him? She had planned to go home, but her sister needed to be back in Toronto early on Monday, so should she ask if that would be okay?
Emma stared at the message in dismay. Halli wasn’t actually thinking of accepting Rob’s invitation. Was she? Her packing forgotten, she sat down on her bed and started typing in her reply.
* * *
Emma gota ride up to the cottage with Isobel on Friday night. No point in taking too many cars. She could always get a ride with someone else if Issy wanted to stay longer or leave early. The weather forecast was hopeful, and despite the inevitable business talk, she was looking forward to the weekend.
She was not expecting Gordon’s glare when she got out of the car to find him standing on the porch.
“What?” she hissed by way of a greeting.
“We need to talk,” was his reply. He did not sound at all pleased.
Isobel stood by the car, turning her head from one to the other, before muttering something and throwing her hands up in the air.
“I have no idea what you two are on about, but I’m taking my bags inside. Bring me the keys when you’re finished glowering at each other,” she grumbled, tossing the car keys to Emma as she stalked off.
Emma pulled her cute green mini-suitcase from the back and locked the car, shoving the keys into her jacket pocket. The suitcase wheels turned nicely, even on the rough surface of the driveway.
“What?” she repeated to Gordon.
“Rob called me. Rob, from the choir. He was confused, and quite upset.”
Emma rolled her eyes and let out a snort as she walked away.
“You wanted Halli to meet people,” he continued. “He asked her out. They were getting along very well before rehearsals, and she’d all but told him she’d enjoy getting to know him better. But his email was shut down pretty quickly, and I think this has your fingerprints all over it.”
She stormed past him and into the house, ignoring the thud of his feet as he trailed after her. “If he can’t handle rejection, he shouldn’t have said anything.”
Gordon pushed past her and positioned himself against her bedroom door, blocking her passage. “He had every reason to expect her to say yes. He had all but asked her in person, and she had told him she would enjoy it. This email was more about making plans than seeing if she was interested. He forwarded it to me. He wanted to know how he had gone so wrong.” He drew a deep breath, and Emma all but expected him to breathe out fire. “Halli is sweet. This email was not sweet. She might have sent it, but she didn’t write it. Did she, Emma?”
Enough of this. Who was he to block her doorway? Besides, this was her family’s house, not his. She reached across his shoulder and shoved the door open. “She didn’t have to send it. She’s just too nice for her own good. I’ve got better people in mind for her, the right sort of people.” She edged past him into her room, dragging her cute green mini-suitcase behind her.
He followed her in. What the hell? What was Gordon doing in her bedroom? She opened her mouth to order him out, but he spoke before she could make a sound.
“The right sort of people? What is that supposed to mean? You mean Phil. I’ve told you, he’s not all that. He’s out for what he can get. And what makes Rob the wrong sort, anyway?”
Emma threw her case on the bed and yanked off her coat, pulling roughly at the sleeves. Oops—better be more careful. This coat was a great vintage find. “Rob? Nerdy, menial Rob? You really think she’d do well with Rob? He can’t sing. That’s why he’s the backstage guy. If he were the right sort for her, he wouldn’t be happy schlepping chairs. He’d do something more important. What is he, anyway? A janitor or something?”
She stared at her case but left it closed. She wasn’t about to open it and let Gordon see her clothes, her pjs. That was much too intimate for a bore and a nag. The thought of him seeing her underwear was… disturbing in a way she didn’t want to explore right now.
If he read her thoughts, he said nothing about it, but kept on harping about Rob.
“He wants to help. He appreciates the choir and everything about it, and, no, he can’t sing. Some people just can’t. That doesn’t mean he isn’t musical or talented in other ways. Do you know what else he does? He does the tech set up and recordings for our choir concerts. And do you know why? Because his job is a sound engineer. He’s the guy who bands hire to make their demos and recordings sound first-rate. He gets paid well for that, and he volunteers his expertise for us, just because he thinks we’re worth it. That,that, Emma, is the sort of person who wants to get to know Halli. That’s exactly the right sort of person in my books. And one more thing. There's nothing wrong with being a janitor. I can’t believe you’re such a snob.”
