Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)
Prologue
PROLOGUE
T he tiny bell above Madame Rosa’s Tea Room chimed as Gerri Wilder pushed through the door, her silver-white bob catching the early morning sunlight. Her arms juggled a wicker basket of fresh-baked cookies and an overstuffed folder threatening to spill its contents across the polished hardwood floor.
“Morning, darling Rosa!” Gerri called out to Rosa, who emerged from behind the counter with a knowing smile. “Is my usual spot ready for some magic?”
Rosa pointed at the coveted window nook. “All yours, as always. Though I must say, you’re here earlier than usual today.”
“Important client, dear. Very important.” Gerri’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she made her way to the table, her colorful kaftan swishing around her legs. The morning sun filtered through delicate lace curtains, casting intricate shadows across the vintage wooden table.
Gerri set down her burden and began arranging delicate bone china cups with precise movements. Each piece bore hand-painted roses in soft pink and gold trim that caught the light. She hummed a Broadway tune under her breath while positioning the teacups just so, occasionally consulting her phone for any updates from Betsy Adams.
The shop’s antique grandfather clock struck eight with a resonant chime as Betsy Adams swept through the door. Her floral dress rustled with each determined step, and her warm hazel eyes crinkled with delight at the sight of her old friend.
“Gerri, darling!” Betsy exclaimed, embracing her with the enthusiasm of a decades-long friendship. “I’m so sorry I’m running behind. Meara called to tell me about her latest painting series, and you know how she gets when she’s excited about her work.”
“You’re never late, dear,” Gerri replied with a laugh, pulling out a chair for her friend. “You simply arrive precisely when the universe intends.” She settled into her own seat, smoothing her kaftan. “Now, tell me everything about our dear Meara’s latest artistic endeavors while we wait for our tea.”
Rosa approached with an ornate menu, though both women knew their order by heart. Gerri ordered her signature bold breakfast blend while Betsy opted for a delicate chamomile.
“And two slices of your heavenly lemon cake,” Betsy added with a conspiratorial wink. “Sugar helps me talk business, you know.”
Gerri noticed the slight tremor in Betsy’s hands as she smoothed her dress – a tell-tale sign that something weighed heavily on her mind. She pulled her leather-bound planner closer, ready to note whatever concerns her friend might share. She sensed Betsy’s illness growing worse but decided to allow her friend to offer whatever she felt comfortable sharing.
“Before we dive into whatever’s troubling you,” Gerri said, “I must know – how did that lovely couple I matched last month turn out? The librarian and the firefighter.”
Betsy’s face lit up. “Oh! They’re absolutely perfect together. I saw them at the farmer’s market last weekend, finishing each other’s sentences and sharing private jokes. Your touch is magical as always, Gerri.”
“Oh, stop.” Gerri waved away the praise, though her eyes danced with pleasure. “I just give fate a helpful little nudge. A dash of intuition, a sprinkle of sarcasm, and a pinch of meddling – that’s all it takes.”
“Having matchmaking in your blood helps too, huh?” Betsy giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Yeah. I guess it does. But I try not to meddle too much. I just like to help them find their ways to each other. Sometimes, with the real stubborn ones, I do need to take things into my own hands.”
“Trust me, I know. That’s why I’m here.”
Their laughter faded as Rosa delivered their tea service, complete with steaming pots and generous slices of lemon cake. Betsy stirred her tea slowly, her expression growing serious.
“It’s about Meara,” she said finally, setting down her spoon with a soft clink against fine china. “She’s so wrapped up in her art studio and exhibitions, Gerri. Don’t misunderstand – I’m incredibly proud of her success, but...” Betsy’s voice caught slightly. “She’s missing out on so much of life.”
Gerri reached across the table to pat Betsy’s hand. “Go on, dear.”
“Since losing her parents, she’s thrown herself into her work. It’s become her shield, her excuse to keep people at arm’s length. The gallery is thriving, her paintings are selling, but when she visits...” Betsy’s eyes welled with tears. “She’s lonely, Gerri. She’d never admit it, but a grandmother knows these things.”
Gerri nodded, noting how Betsy’s fingers trembled around her teacup. The unspoken weight of time hung between them – Betsy’s deepening worry that she wouldn’t see her granddaughter truly happy before her own time came.
“You and I both know the time I have left is limited. Meara is the one person I worry about. I don’t have many regrets,” Betsy continued, dabbing at her eyes with a floral handkerchief, “but not seeing Meara find her soul mate might be one if we don’t do something soon.”
A confident smile spread across Gerri’s face. “As it happens, I’m hosting a gala next month. What if we arranged for Meara to attend? I promise you, it would be the perfect setting for a ‘chance’ encounter with someone special.”
“Oh, but she hates being manipulated, Gerri. She’s too clever not to see through any obvious matchmaking attempts.”
“Trust me, darling. I’ll be subtle as a summer breeze.” Gerri winked. “Remember the Watson-Paulson wedding last spring? Neither of them realized I’d orchestrated their meeting until the rehearsal dinner.”
Their conversation paused as Betsy took a bite of lemon cake, considering the proposition. “She does need to get out more... and she did mention wanting to network with potential gallery clients...”
“Exactly! We’ll present it as a business opportunity. Leave the details to me – I’ll ensure she crosses paths with someone who can appreciate both her artistic brilliance and that fierce independent streak of hers.”
Betsy’s relief was palpable. “You always know just how to handle these delicate situations.”
Before Gerri could respond, her phone buzzed insistently. The name “Vida Riggs” flashed across the screen, accompanied by a string of urgent emojis.
“Excuse me just a moment, dear,” Gerri said, stepping away from the table. She answered with practiced patience, “Vida! How are you feeling today?”
“Oh, Gerri,” Vida’s voice dripped with theatrical distress. “My constitution grows weaker by the day, and still my son refuses to settle down. How can I rest knowing Artek will be alone once I’m gone?”
Gerri suppressed an eye roll at Vida’s dramatics. Both women knew she was in perfect health, but Vida had decided playing the dying mother card was her best chance at seeing her son mated.
“Now, now, Vida. Your son is a successful businessman with a thriving security company. These things take time.”
“Time! That’s exactly what I’m running out of!” Vida launched into a convenient coughing fit. “You must help me, Gerri. You’re my last hope.”
Gerri’s mind raced, pieces falling into place like a perfectly solved puzzle. “As it happens, I’m hosting a gala next month. Perhaps Artek could attend – strictly for business networking, of course. Northern Winds Security has always been such a great sponsor to our charities and I think it would do for him to meet some more high-profile clients looking to do business with him.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s perfect!” Vida’s miraculous recovery was instant. “But please, don’t tell him I called. You know how stubborn he can be.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Gerri assured her, ending the call with a satisfied smile. She returned to the table where Betsy waited with curious eyes.
“Just another client in dire need of romance,” Gerri explained vaguely, though her mind whirled with possibilities. Meara’s passionate creativity could be exactly what Artek’s structured world needed, while his protective nature might help her feel secure enough to lower her defenses.
“You’ve got that look,” Betsy observed, narrowing her eyes playfully. “The one that says you’re plotting something spectacular.”
“Me? Plot?” Gerri pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I’m simply Cupid in heels, dear. The universe does all the real work.”
As they finished their tea and prepared to leave, Gerri’s excitement bubbled over. Two stubborn souls, each wrapped up in their own worlds, each with a parent desperate to see them happy. The symmetry was too perfect to ignore.
Betsy hugged her good-bye, whispering a heartfelt thank you before heading out into the morning sunshine. Gerri lingered, making a few final notes in her planner. The gala would need careful orchestration – nothing too obvious, but enough gentle nudges to ensure Meara and Artek’s paths crossed at precisely the right moment.
She gathered her things, leaving a generous tip for Rosa. “Well, universe,” she murmured, adjusting her silver-white bob in a nearby mirror, “let’s make some magic happen.”
The bell chimed once more as she stepped out into the day, her mind already racing with seating arrangements and strategic introductions. After all, the best matches were the ones that seemed to happen by chance – even when chance had a little help from a determined matchmaker in fabulous heels.