The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) (20 page)

“Come in!” Mom shouts back.

I turn the handle and step into the room. Mom is busy unpacking their things and Dad’s just coming out of the
en suite
bathroom, the sounds of flushing behind him.

“Sorry to ruin your night, pumpkin,” Dad says as he scrubs his hands under the faucet.

“What are you doing back, anyway?” I venture. “I mean, you paid for the whole trip, didn’t you? Will you be able to get a refund?”

“Money is of no consequence, Candy,” Mom says, and this is news to me. It was always of consequence when I was growing up. “We
had
to come back. It’s more evident now than ever.”

The way my Mom delivered that last line sends a sick feeling to my stomach. And when Dad clears his throat loudly and shoots a warning look at her, I know it’s something I’ve done. But I pray it’s not about the whole Colin thing. I mean, I already sorted that out. They’ve come home for no reason at all.

“Why?” I ask tentatively, and then decide to add, for good measure, “I mean, everything’s going fine here.”

“Yes, yes, we know you’re doing a fine job at the bakery.” She closes a drawer in her dresser and returns to the suitcase. “But we had to come back for the tribunal.”

I stare at my mother. I’m tempted to clean out my ears, like I’m a character in a campy movie who thinks they didn’t hear correctly and when they rub their ears, a squeaky sound gets dubbed in. “The tri-
what?
”

Mom looks at me with a disappointed frown. “Don’t do that, dear,” she says, her voice sinking into condescension. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not becoming.”

I’m tempted to growl and roll my eyes like a surly teenager. “I
know
what the word tribunal means. I just don’t know how it applies to us.”

“The tribunal, dear, is a gathering of the elders. Apparently there’s been some magical misuse going on, and the elders want to hold a tribunal to get it straightened out.” She gives me a pointed look. “Make sure we keep our young people in line.”

My face is hot. Even my ears are flaming.
Am I breaking out in hives?
I look down at my arms. No visible signs, but then why am I so itchy all of a sudden?

“Who-who’s gotten
out
of line?” I prod, continuing to play dumb despite my mother’s gentle suggestion that I not do that.

Dad shrugs as he takes a bag of toiletries from Mom into the bathroom. “Don’t know. They didn’t say. Just said we needed to get home as soon as we could.”

“And you dropped everything?” Goodness, who were these elders and why did they get to dictate what everyone did? “Where were you, anyway?”

“Southeast Asia,” Mom says. “It was really lovely, dear. You should go sometime.”

Right. Because I have so much free time now and limitless funds. “Couldn’t they have told you over the phone what was going on? I mean, seems like a long way to travel just for one meeting.”

Mom stops what she’s doing and stares at me, completely still. “You will learn, in time, that
everything
stops for the clan.”

The clan?

“One day you’ll be one of the elders, Candy, and you’ll understand the importance of the tribunal. Of being there with and for the others.” She resumes unpacking. “You don’t seem to understand yet the responsibility we have, being magical and all.”

“I don’t?”

“Of course not.” Mom looks at me and her expression turns pitying. “Don’t fret about it, dear. I didn’t understand at your age either. When you come into your magic it’s…surreal. And fun! Isn’t it?”

Not really.
“Um, I guess.”

“No, it’s not!” Okay, clearly that was a trick question. “Magic is serious business, Candy. Can you imagine if our secret got out?”

“What your mother is trying to say is that the more often and the more flippantly you use your magic, the more likely you are to get caught.”

Info I could have used
before
they skipped town.

“And this isn’t some show on the CW,” Mom continues. “We’re not vampires who can erase people’s memories.”

I cast a quizzical look at Dad.

He shrugs. “The ship had the entire first season of
The Vampire Diaries
on DVD. Spent two whole days in our cabin watching it.”

I shake my head, trying to picture my parents glued to the angst-ridden teen vampire drama, but I’m getting that robot voice in my head that says over and over, “Does. Not. Compute.”

“So…when will this tribunal be held?” I ask.

“Soon,” Mom replies. “Your invitation should be in the mail tomorrow.”

“Invitation?”

“More of a subpoena,” Dad says. “But they use very nice card stock.”

Twenty

Miss Candace Cooper

You are cordially invited to attend

THE TRIBUNAL

To be held on the 13
th
day of this month at precisely 7pm

275 Mockingbird Lane, Sagehaven, CT

Since my parents returned home on the evening of the 12
th
, I didn’t have much notice about the tribunal. The mysterious envelope was just outside the front door when I left for the bakery, and I’m half suspicious it was my parents who whipped up the simple invitation.

When I arrive at the bakery, I’m surprised to find the door is already unlocked and there’s light coming from under the kitchen door. I panic for a brief moment, wondering if someone broke in, then think better of it. They probably wouldn’t turn on the lights to rob us. Besides, there isn’t any money in the kitchen.

I push through the door to find Holly sitting at her station, rolling out little pieces of pink fondant. She’s making roses, and there must be a hundred of them already laid out on the metal table.

“Holly?” I say, drawing her attention to me.

She flashes me a way-too-perky smile for seven o’clock in the morning. “Hey, sis!”

Hey, sis?
“Ummm…hey.” I hang my coat and purse on the rack and then approach my sister carefully. We haven’t spoken since that day she walked out on me, and I can’t help but feel a little awkward. “What’s up?”

She shrugs. “Just makin’ flowers.” She holds one up for me to observe.

“Nice.” We have to address the giant, pink elephant in the room. “Hol, I want you to know I’m
really
sorry for what happened.”

“I know you are,” she replies, dropping the flower back to its spot among the others. “But you fixed it, and that’s what matters. Colin, thankfully, doesn’t remember a thing.”

“Yeah. About that…my thing for Colin…it’s gone. I promise. As a matter of fact…” I can’t help but get a little wistful and bashful when I think about my kiss with Joe on the porch last night.

Holly cocks her head. “What?”

“I’ve started dating someone, actually.”

“
What?”
My sister’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “
You?
Is it serious?”

I shrug, trying to remain nonchalant even though I’m bursting with excitement inside. “Might be,” I mutter.

“Well, who is it?” Now Holly is excited too. She’s jumped off her stool and grabbed onto my shoulders.

“I’m not ready to say.” And then it occurs to me that Holly doesn’t know about Mom and Dad. “Oh!”

“What?” Holly’s eyes widen frantically. “What is it?”

“Brace yourself,” I say. “Mom and Dad are back.”

I’m really starting to worry that Holly’s eyes are going to lop out of their sockets. “They’re back?”

“Came back last night. Let’s just say it wasn’t a terribly convenient time for me.”

“You mean you were—”

“Almost. Thank God we still had our clothes on.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Exactly.”

Holly finally drops her hands from my shoulders and moves them to her hips. “So what are they doing back so soon? I thought they’d be gone for six months.”

Heat rushes into my face, and I immediately scurry around to the other side of the kitchen to start my baking for the day. “Um, I don’t know,” I lie.

I can feel Holly’s eyes boring into the back of my head. “You’re lying.”

Crap. “I mean, they were kind of cryptic about it, but…well…”

“Spill it, Candy. What’s going on?”

I turn around and lean against the counter, facing my sister head-on. “I think I might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean? Do you need help?”

I shake my head. “Not that kind of trouble. I’m not running from the mob, or anything. I think it’s more like, I did something wrong and I’m probably going to get spanked for it. Figuratively, of course.”

Holly gives me a confused frown, as well she should. It’s the same look I gave my parents last night when they told me about the tribunal. I give her the rundown, as I know it.

“So, what’s going to happen? Will they take away your powers? Just give you a slap on the wrist?”

“I have no idea.” My heart sinks. I’m feeling so helpless all of a sudden.

“Well, I’m going to be there, right by your side. You made it all right—there’s no reason you should be on trial for this.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the invitation. “Unless you got one of these, I’m pretty sure you’re not invited.”

Holly reads the paper and then tosses it angrily to the table. “Ugh! This whole magical-first-born thing is so annoying. I’m your sister. And I’m the one you wronged. If I’ve forgiven you, shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t they
see
I’ve forgiven you?”

I’m touched by my sister’s need to defend me. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and I just want to grab her in a big hug.

“Thanks, Hol,” I say, giving her a grateful smile. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I’m ready to change the subject now. As a matter of fact, I have to. I can’t very well infuse today’s cupcakes with all my fear and worry. “We have a lot of orders to fill today. I better get started.”

~*~

At a quarter till eleven, my phone lights up with a text. I wipe my hands on my apron and pick it up.

Wanna have lunch with me? I have an extra PB&J.

I smile and text back:
Would love to.

By the fountain @ noon?

See ya then!

“What are you grinning about?” Holly asks from across the room.

I shrug. “Nothing.”

I let a few minutes go by and then announce, “Well, I’m gonna pop out for lunch.”

“We’re not eating together?” Holly asks, because we usually do have lunch together.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, as if I’m completely taken off guard. “I didn’t realize. I mean, I made plans with a friend, since…you know…we weren’t really speaking there for a while. You can eat with Colin though, right? A little private lunch date.”

“Yeah, of course,” she says, shaking her head back and forth. Then she shoos me with her hands. “Go on. Have fun with your
friend
.”

“Er, thanks,” I say as I slip my apron onto its hook. “See you in a bit.”

I dart out of the shop and have to stop myself from skipping to the square where Joe is already waiting for me. Fall is most definitely in the air now, with the chilly breeze and bright sun. The leaves are starting to change and I’m reminded of my childhood, the beginning of a new school year, with its promise of new friends, boyfriends, football games and cashmere sweaters. Oh, that life was as simple now.

“Hey you,” I say, as I approach the bench where Joe is sitting. He’s decked out in a worn, brown sweater and a pair of jeans. His blondish hair is shimmering in the sunlight, reflecting the red leaves of the tree above for a strawberry blond effect.

His smile is wide as he replies, “Hey yourself.”

He moves over on the bench to make room for me and pulls a sandwich out of the paper bag beside him. I sit and take the pb&j.

“Thanks,” I say. “But what if I had said no to lunch?”

Joe shrugs and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “I would have called another pretty girl to join me.”

He winks and I swat him with the back of my hand. I don’t actually say anything, because I’m not sure what to say. Do I thank him for calling me pretty? Do I chastise him for talking to other girls? God, I suck at this dating thing. One-night-stands are much easier. But so much less fulfilling than this. I have to make an effort. I like him…a lot. I’m not going to run away like I’ve always done in the past.

“Well, thanks for asking me,” I finally say, settling on sincerity, and then I nestle in to eat my sandwich.

“So, listen,” I say after a couple bites. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Ah. She wants to get to know me.”

“It’s only fair,” I retort. “You seem to know way more about me than I do about you.”

“Only what I know of you from high school, and what you told me over dinner the other night.”

“That’s pretty much everything. Now go.”

He takes another bite of his sandwich and then a sip of what looks to be iced tea. “Well, I went off to college—”

“Where?”

He winces. “Does that really matter?”

“Yes. Spill it.”

“Dartmouth.”

“An Ivy-leaguer,” I say, impressed. “Fancy.”

“Well, don’t get too excited. I left after three semesters.”

“Why?” If I had gotten into an Ivy League, they would have had to pry me out of it. “Where’d you go?”

“To the beach.”

I nearly choke on my sandwich and sputter a bit. He offers me a sip of iced tea, which I accept gratefully. “The beach?” I finally croak out. “I’m sure your parents loved that.”

“My dad wasn’t thrilled, that’s true. But there wasn’t anything he could do to stop me. My trust money was mine by that point, and I was free to use it as I pleased.”

“A trust fund baby? Seriously?”

His cheeks turn pink. Clearly, he’s not proud of that fact.

“
Anyway,”
he says, ignoring me. “I set up camp, so to speak, in a little town in Florida, near the beach. It was great. I’ve been there ever since. Until now, of course.”

“What did you do for work? Or did you have enough to live for the last, what, ten years?”

“Thirteen years, actually. And no, I blew through the trust pretty quickly.” He winces again. Man, he really doesn’t like talking about his past, does he? Or maybe it’s money he doesn’t like to talk about. “I, um…I worked at a coffee shop.”

I can’t help the laughter that bursts out of my mouth. “That’s brilliant,” I say. “Young man flees family coffee shop business to…work in a coffee shop. You do see the irony, don’t you?”

“Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”

We both laugh and then fall silent again while we munch on our sandwiches.

“So, what about you?” he asks, turning to me. “I know you were some kind of big-shot in New York, which isn’t surprising at all.”

I look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You were always a go-getter in high school. Valedictorian—”

“Salutatorian,” I correct him, and the bitterness I’d felt at eighteen comes rushing back. “Stupid Kimmie Stark.”

Joe gives a little chuckle, but goes on. “Either way, you were pretty smart. Always running for some office or another.”

“I was class president, for your information.” I can’t help but feel a little stung that he doesn’t remember that.

“See? It was inevitable. So what happened? Why’d you leave?”

I sigh and shove the crust of my sandwich back into the little baggie. “What happened is I got promoted to an executive position at Bell North, after working my way up for several years, only to be accosted by my boss’s boss and asked to leave when I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

I dare to glance at Joe. His jaw is wide open, and he has a look of pure stupefaction on his face. “Why didn’t you sue?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I would have won, I’m sure, but Mom and Dad and Holly were pressuring me to move back here and run the bakery. My best friend got pregnant and moved back home, to Ohio. Everything seemed to be working against me in New York. So I gave in.”

“Yeah, things weren’t going so great for me toward the end, either. Maybe it’s all part of the stupid curse this town has on it.”

“I’m inclined to believe that,” I say, and then, “So what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

I shift on the bench so I’m facing him and cross one leg over the other. “You said things weren’t going so well. What happened?”

He gives a little groan, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but finally says, “Woman trouble is the best way to put it, I guess.”

I laugh at his choice of words. “Woman trouble? What is this, the Wild West circa 1875?”

“Okay, maybe not the
best
way to put it,” he admits, “but that’s what it was. Long story short, she broke my heart. I thought we were going to get married, and the next thing I knew, she was packing her bags and moving out.”

I’m not sure what to say. To be honest, I’m kind of distracted by my own jealousy. Not of the woman he was supposed to marry, but oddly enough of the fact he’s had his heart broken. I’ve never been in love. Never been with someone long enough to let them break my heart. It might be a silly thing to wish for, but this thought strikes me to my core. I’ve filled my life with meaningless things and dead-end relationships. I thought it was what I wanted. I thought it was who I was. But as this warm, fuzzy feeling steals into my heart, I realize just how wrong I’ve been. About everything.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, hoping it’s the right thing in this situation.