The Perfect Christmas: The Perfect Christmas / Can This Be Christmas?

Cassie walked inside and her gaze went instantly to the man standing behind the large desk. The Internet research she’d done hadn’t included any photos, so she hadn’t been sure what to expect—but not someone relatively young with shockingly good looks. He was easily six-two and loomed above her.

“Ms. Beaumont?”

“That would be me,” she said, straining to sound cool and collected.

“Please don’t sit down.”

“Uh…” The door closed behind her.

“Walk to the far side of my office and then walk back.”

Cassie paused, which apparently he didn’t like because he gestured for her to comply.

“Do I need to say, ‘Mother, may I?’” she asked.

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay.” She did as he requested and felt his eyes burning into her with every step she took.

“You could stand to lose five pounds.”

“I beg your pardon?” What a jerk!

“You heard me and you agree with me, only I doubt you’d admit it.”

Okay, maybe she could shed a few pounds, but her figure looked fine the way it was.

He continued to study her and his frown deepened. “That color doesn’t flatter you.”

How dare he! “I happen to like navy blue.” This was her favorite suit and she’d purchased it at a closeout sale for seventy percent off.

He frowned. “Pale blue would be better.” He came out from behind his desk and walked around her. “You should let your hair grow, as well. That style is becoming but you need more length.”

“I’m glad you think there’s something attractive about me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

This man was too much! Cassie was tempted to turn around and leave. She might have, only she decided to see how many other ways he could find to insult her. It was becoming a game to her.

“Sit,” he said.

“Please?” Someone needed to teach this man some manners.

“Sit,” he repeated, more loudly this time.

“Sit, please,” she returned pointedly.

A flicker of a smile showed in his dark brown eyes. “All right, sit, please.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said pleasantly, taking the chair across from his desk.

After a moment he said, “I’ve read your application.” He sat down across from her, reached for the papers and leafed through them. “Tell me about your father.”

“Why are you asking about him?”

He lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “It’s my experience that most women want to marry a man just like their father.”

“Not me. Pete’s a poor excuse for a father. I want as little to do with him as possible.”

Simon immediately made a lengthy notation on a pad in front of him.

Cassie moved to the edge of the cushion. “What did you write?”

Simon looked up, a frown darkening his face. Clearly she’d offended him. She could only suppose he wasn’t accustomed to anyone questioning his actions. “What did you say?” he said frostily.

“I asked if you’d tell me what you wrote down.” She pointed at his notepad. “It was about me and my non-relationship with my father, wasn’t it?”

He flattened his hands on the desk. “These are my notes. I don’t share them with clients.”

The urge to stand and simply walk out the door was nearly overwhelming. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Has anyone ever told you you’re rude?”

He grinned as if the comment pleased him. “As a matter of fact, yes. Several people have taken delight in revealing their opinions.” He shook his head. “It has more to do with them and their hurt feelings than with me.”

“What others think doesn’t bother you?”

He gave a bored sigh. “Not particularly. Why should it? Now listen, Ms…?.” He glanced down at the application in an apparent effort to locate her name.

“Beaumont,” she supplied.

“Ms. Beaumont,” he said impatiently. “This is my office and I ask the questions here. Kindly refrain from interrupting me.”

She leaned back in the chair. “By all means, ask away.” She waved in his direction as though granting him permission to continue.

He narrowed his eyes. “In as few words as possible, explain to me why you aren’t married.”

That was easy enough to answer. She thought of what Angie had said a few days earlier. “I’ve been told my standards are too high.”

He raised his eyes from the page, his expression startled.

“I guess you could say I’m choosy,” she amended. “I’m looking for a perfect match. Someone who’s just right—for me. The perfect man, the perfect marriage…and,” she added, almost in a whisper, “the perfect Christmas.”

He didn’t respond. “You’re how old?” he asked, instead. He ran his finger down the application.

“Thirty-four. How old are you?”

He exhaled. “As I requested earlier, kindly refrain from asking questions. My age is not your concern.”

“Answer me one question, and then I promise not to ask anything else.”

He glared at her.

“Just one,” she cajoled. “You can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is to sit here and have you scrutinize me. It’s only fair that I should know something about you.”

Sighing, he set the application aside, but before he could speak, she blurted out, “Are you married?”

His eyebrows arched. “That’s your one question?”

“Yes, and it’s important.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, first, if you haven’t been able to find yourself a wife, what qualifies you to find me a husband?”

“All I will say is that a doctor doesn’t need to have a disease in order to cure it. I’m good at what I do. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be willing to offer a refund if I’m unsuccessful in locating a husband for you.”

“Are you always so stiff and formal—as if your underwear’s been starched?”

He stood abruptly. “I believe that will be all for this afternoon.”

“You’re sending me away?” She blinked, disappointed. Cassie was just starting to enjoy this. His typical clients were probably more respectful, if not downright obsequious.

“This interview is over.”

“Did I pass?” She’d rather know now than be left hanging. She guessed not. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take her on. And yet, disagreeable though he was, Simon Dodson intrigued her.

He hesitated. “I’ll be in touch later this week.”

This was a line Cassie had heard before. “In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

“Precisely.”

Cassie recognized her marching orders. She bent down for her purse and reluctantly stood.

As she drove back to her condo, she tried to make sense of her short interview. On her way up, she collected her mail and noticed once again that the Tuesday paper was missing. Mrs. Mullinex, no doubt.

She ran for the elevator and saw Mr. Oliver, who lived on the same floor, standing inside. Looking her right in the eye, he let the doors close instead of holding them for her. This wasn’t the first time, either. He was an unsociable man; the most she’d been able to coax out of him was a muffled greeting, as if he begrudged every word he was forced to speak.

When she got to her condo, she saw that she had company.

“Shawn!” Her brother had made himself at home and was wolfing down a sandwich while standing over her kitchen sink.

“Hey, it’s about time you got home. Where were you?”

Rather than explain, Cassie walked over and hugged her big brother. “I had an appointment. How long are you here?” she asked.

“Two days, maybe three.”

Shawn often had only a few days’ rest before he flew to some other town where another commission awaited him. She knew he was headed to Phoenix, Arizona, next. He had his own home in Portland, but every now and then he dropped in on her. In an effort to encourage his visits, she’d given him a key to her condo.

“I take it you’re hungry.”

“Starved.”

“Let me fix you something decent.” Cassie checked the contents of her refrigerator, then reached for a frying pan. She loved to cook and had a small repertoire of favorite dishes. This was one. “How does taco salad sound?”

“Like ambrosia from the gods.” He sat on the stool and watched her move about the compact kitchen. “You’re going to make some man a wonderful wife.”

She whirled around to face him. “Funny you should say that.”

Shawn went still. “You’ve met someone?”

“I would’ve told you!” They weren’t in the habit of keeping secrets from each other. “My appointment this afternoon was with a professional matchmaker.”

Her brother’s head went back as if the announcement had shocked him. “Get out of here! A matchmaker?”

“I had my first appointment with the great and mighty Dr. Simon Dodson.”

“How’d it go?”

Cassie set the onion on the chopping board and paused. “I’m not sure. Simon’s pretty rude, but apparently he knows his stuff.”

“Simon, is it?”

In her mind it was. “Yeah. He’s not a medical doctor, even though he has a bunch of letters behind his name.”

Her brother looked unconvinced. “You checked his references?”

“I did. I spoke with two couples who met through him. I was warned in advance that he isn’t the most likeable fellow on the face of the earth, but they say he has this gift.”

“How’d you hear about him?”

“Through Angie.”

“Angie?” Her brother appeared as astonished by this as Cassie had been. “I wouldn’t think she’d need a matchmaker. Did she go to him?”

Cassie nodded.

“When?”

“A little while ago. She didn’t really say. What I don’t get is why Simon rejected her.”

“That’s crazy! Angie’s great.”

“And I’m not?” she asked, her hand on her hip.

Shawn chuckled. “I’m staying as far away from that question as I can. What did the matchmaker say? If he rejected Angie, then what about you?”

That was the thirty-thousand-dollar question. “I don’t know if Simon will accept me as a client or not. He said he’d phone, but…” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by loud rap music coming from the condo to the right of hers.

“Good grief, what’s that?” Shawn covered his ears.

“My new neighbor,” Cassie shouted back. She walked over to the kitchen wall and banged hard three times. Within half a minute, the music had been turned down to a more respectable volume.

“Jalapeño?” she asked next, hardly missing a beat.

“Might as well. My life could do with a bit of spicing up.”

“Mine, too.”

“So tell me more about this matchmaker. Do you like him?”

Cassie began tearing lettuce industriously. “The truth is, I don’t. He’s arrogant, snooty and definitely not my type. I’m not his, either. Not that it matters… But he doesn’t like to be questioned or challenged. I could tell I irritated him.”

“You heard he’s successful, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Until that moment, Cassie hadn’t realized how much she hoped Simon would agree to work with her. “I don’t know if he’s ready for someone like me.”

“What do you mean?”

She waved a lettuce leaf in his direction. “Like I said, I questioned his actions and his decisions. He didn’t like it.”

“I wonder why he rejected Angie,” Shawn mused. “I mean, she’s not annoying or—”

“Hey, stop right there.”

Shawn laughed and leaned his elbows on the counter where he sat. “Who’s that picture of on the fridge?” he asked.

Although she didn’t need to turn and look, Cassie did. She tensed slightly as she stared at the photograph of Jill and Tom and their perfect Christmas. “That, brother dearest, is my inspiration.”

Chapter 3

A few minutes later, Cassie reached for her phone on impulse and dialed Angie’s number.

“Hello? Oh, Cassie, I was hoping you’d call. How’d the appointment go?”

“Do you like taco salad?” Cassie asked rather than answering.

“Is there any food group I don’t like?” Her friend had a smile in her voice.

“Silly question. Come join us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, Shawn stopped by. I’m making a taco salad and if you have fresh tomatoes bring one. If not, we’ll do without.”

“Shawn’s there? Your brother?”

“That’s what I just said. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m on my way, and I’ve got a tomato,” Angie said, “but when I get there, I want details about the meeting with Dr. Dodson.”

Shawn grabbed an orange from her fruit bowl and tossed it in the air, juggling it with an apple and doing a poor job. The orange hit the floor and rolled into the living room. “I’m glad you invited Angie. How’s she doing?”

“You know Angie. She’s always in a good mood.”

Her brother retrieved the orange. “Well…it’ll be nice to see her again.”

Cassie nodded absently as she began to sauté the ground beef.

By the time Angie arrived, Cassie had the hamburger with taco sauce simmering together. The salad fixings were in a large bowl, awaiting Angie’s tomato. Shawn was grating the cheese.

Angie brightened the moment she walked into the room. “Shawn, it’s great to see you.”

“You, too.” He set the cheese down long enough to give her a brief hug. Cassie always forgot how tiny her friend was until Angie stood next to her brother, who was well over six feet.

While Cassie got out the bag of tortilla chips and assembled the rest of the salad, Angie set the table and Shawn filled their water glasses. “Sorry I don’t have any sangria,” Cassie said as she carried the large wooden bowl to the table. Smaller bowls of meat, cheese and chips followed.

“This looks wonderful,” Angie told her.

“Allow me.” Shawn pulled out Angie’s chair. Then he hurried around to the other side of the table to do the same for Cassie.

“Since when have you acquired gentlemanly manners?” Cassie asked.

Jokingly Shawn checked his watch. “About five minutes ago.”

“Perfect timing.”

“I’m dying to hear how everything went this afternoon,” Angie said, her fork poised over the salad. “How was the meeting with…Dr. Dodson?” She glanced toward Shawn as if she wasn’t sure she should say any more.

“It’s okay.” Cassie nodded. “He knows all about it.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Personally I think she’s nuts. So, what’s the story with you and this matchmaker?”

Angie ignored the question and returned her attention to Cassie. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was your impression when you met him?”

“He’s abrupt and ill-mannered, don’t you agree?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She turned to Shawn. “He rejected me. I didn’t make it past the initial interview. I’ll admit it was a blow to my ego but I felt I had to tell Cassie about him.”

“I can’t believe he’d reject you.” Shawn looked genuinely outraged on Angie’s behalf. “I don’t understand why either of you would have any interest in someone who seems to enjoy insulting you.”

“Why?” Cassie answered. “We’re getting desperate, that’s why. It’s not easy to meet decent men, you know!”

“Not at our age,” Angie added.

“See that picture of Jill and Tom?” Cassie said, pointing to her refrigerator. “She has the perfect life, the perfect family and is about to have the perfect Christmas. I want all that.”

“Me, too,” Angie murmured fervently. “And so far I haven’t even come close.”

Shawn blinked. “You two are actually serious?”

“Serious enough to pay thirty thousand bucks to find the right man.”

Shawn’s eyebrows shot up. “How much?”

Cassie didn’t feel like repeating it. “You heard me.”

Shaking his head, Shawn muttered something about being in the wrong business.

Angie sighed. “It’s a ridiculous amount of money, I know, but from what I understand, it’s worth every penny—if you’re accepted, that is. Now, Cassie, tell me about your meeting with Dr. Dodson.”

Mentally reviewing the appointment, Cassie suffered more than a few doubts. “I don’t think I went over well.”

“But you have a second appointment, right?”

“Supposedly.” Cassie shrugged. “He said he’d call…?.”

“Cassie, that’s great! Dr. Dodson read my application, took one look at me and said he didn’t have anyone who’d suit me.”

That wasn’t precisely what Angie had told her earlier. Simon had apparently said she already held feelings for someone. If that was the case, Cassie didn’t have any idea who it might be. She wished she’d questioned her further, but at the time she’d been too interested in hearing about this matchmaker and now didn’t seem appropriate. Especially since Angie was obviously reluctant to talk about her own situation. The man in question must’ve been someone she’d met years ago, which was what Angie had implied. It certainly wasn’t anyone Cassie knew, and they’d worked together for six years.

“Tell us what he said,” Angie urged.

“Simon was pretty rude,” Cassie said between bites of her salad. She added another layer of crushed tortilla chips to the lettuce.

“How?” Shawn asked. “I want specifics.”

“Well, he didn’t seem to like a single thing about me. Not my body type, not my choice of clothes or the color of my suit.”

“I love that suit!” Angie cried.

“I did, too,” Cassie said, immediately noting that she’d used the past tense. Hard as it was to admit, he was right about that. She would’ve preferred it in a soft robin’s-egg blue, but the only available color had been navy.

“Didn’t he have anything nice to say?” Angie asked.

“Well…he did mention that my hairstyle suited me but it needed more length. That was as close to a compliment as he got.”

“But you made it past the first interview,” Angie said again, as though Cassie had managed a feat of unparalleled skill.

“What I don’t understand,” Shawn said, pushing back in his chair, “is why you’d allow this man to insult you. I mean, everything he said was just a matter of opinion. His opinion.” He raised both hands as the women started to protest. “Okay, I understand you’re feeling desperate—to quote you—but I don’t get it.”

Cassie and Angie shared a look.

“I think it’s the promise,” Cassie said.

“The promise,” Shawn repeated. “What promise?”

Angie leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “Dr. Dodson guarantees that he’ll find you a match.”

“Someone who’ll be a perfect match…”

“Someone who’s as eager to meet us as we are them,” Angie explained.

“The thing is,” Cassie said, “I can’t help wondering if the man of my dreams is actually out there.”

“Of course he is,” Shawn insisted. “Frankly I think all of this is nonsense. How can anyone guarantee that he’ll find you a perfect match?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “I can’t believe you’re willing to pay the guy that much money when you’re completely capable of finding yourself a husband.”

“Where?” Cassie asked, opening her arms and gesturing widely. “Tell me where he is and I’ll send a search party to bag him.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Angie said. “Maybe there’ll be an extra man hanging around for me.”

“Where?” Shawn ignored their teasing. “There are men, decent men, everywhere. You can meet him at work—” they shook their heads simultaneously “—well, then, at…at the grocery store. Or on the street. Or in a bookstore. Or…”

Angie cocked one finely shaped eyebrow. “Did you hear what I just heard?”

“I did,” Cassie confirmed.

“What?” Shawn looked from one woman to the other.

“You used the word meet,” Cassie told him.

“Not marry,” Angie said.

“Now, just a minute—” Shawn started to speak but Cassie cut him off.

“You’re a prime example of what we’re talking about.”

“Me?” Shawn placed a hand over his heart. “I’m too busy for a wife and family. I’m constantly on the road. That’s no life for kids.”

“You don’t feel the need for companionship, then?” Angie asked.

“Not really.”

“Men don’t,” Cassie complained. “They don’t know they’re miserable until we tell them.”

“So I’m miserable now?” Shawn laughed as if she’d made a joke. “Too bad I’ve never noticed.”

Cassie wasn’t about to argue with him. “Men aren’t on the same timetable women are, and when they finally wake up and realize they want the same things we do, they can still father children.”

“A woman has biological limitations,” Angie said, “if she wants kids.”

Her brother’s look sobered. “You two aren’t kidding.”

“No way,” Cassie said. “In fact, we’re willing to put up with the criticism and scrutiny of someone like Simon Dodson in the hope of finding a good man we can share our lives with.”

Shawn grew thoughtful. “I don’t understand why he’d reject you, Angie. It seems to me you’d be an ideal candidate.”

“Well, he did, and it’s his prerogative,” she said briskly. Then she smiled at Cassie. “I can hardly wait until you have your next appointment.”

“Now, just a minute,” Shawn said again. “You should’ve asked me to set you up before you went to all this trouble.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You have someone you want me to meet?”

“Well, sure. I know a dozen eligible men. I could’ve introduced you.”

Cassie glanced at Angie. “He only thinks to mention this now?”

Angie frowned. “Do you really trust your brother to find you a husband?”

Cassie shook her head. “My idea of what I want and what he has to offer might be worlds apart.”

“Hey, you two,” Shawn said, breaking into their conversation. “I’m sitting right here. If you have any doubts, you can address them to me directly and not to each other.”

“Okay,” Cassie said. “Tell me about one such man.”

“All right.” He appeared to be deep in thought.

“I don’t think he can scrounge up even one,” Cassie whispered, raising her eyebrows.

“Give me a minute, would you,” he snapped.

“Notice how testy he gets when challenged.”

Her brother silenced her with a look.

“There’s Riley,” he declared triumphantly. He beamed a smile at Angie and then Cassie.

“I’ve always liked the name Riley,” Angie said.

“Riley.” Cassie threw back her head. “You’re joking!”

“What’s wrong with Riley?” Angie wanted to know.

“He’s an artist friend of Shawn’s. He’s got two ex-wives, a gambling problem and he drinks too much. You’re scraping the bottom of the frying pan if you’re suggesting either of us should marry Riley.”

“He’s reformed.”

“Yeah, right. And when did this happen?”

Shawn seemed unsure. “Not too long ago. He said he’s through messing up his life. What he needs now is a good woman.”

Cassie exhaled slowly. “Tell him to talk to one of his ex-wives, then.”

“Sorry,” Angie said, “I’m not interested, either.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” Cassie informed her brother.

“What about Larry Upjohn? You couldn’t meet a nicer guy if you tried.”

“Do you know Larry?” Angie asked her.

Cassie nodded. “He’s Shawn’s CPA and in a word…b-o-r-i-n-g.”

“You didn’t say you were looking for a stand-up comic,” Shawn said, obviously annoyed.

“Call me superficial, but I don’t want to date a man who wears knee-high socks with his sandals and a pocket protector in his pajamas.”

“A little personality would be helpful,” Angie said in a defeated voice. “As you can tell, it’s not as easy as it seems.”

“Warren!” Shawn’s face lit up. “What about Warren?”

Once more Angie turned to Cassie.

She nodded, but without enthusiasm. “Warren’s a…possibility.”

“What’s wrong with Warren?” Shawn cried.

Cassie shrugged. “Nothing really. He just doesn’t ring my bells. He might Angie’s, though.”

Shawn leaned back, throwing out his arms in an expansive gesture. “I can introduce you, if you like.”

“Tell me about him first,” Angie said.

“He’s Shawn’s agent,” Cassie explained. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe Warren,” Shawn commented. “He’s a tough negotiator.”

“But a real kitten on the inside,” Cassie said. “He’s also divorced. Recently, if I remember.”

“He and Clare split last year. I don’t know many guys your age who aren’t divorced.”