1. Halliday
1
HALLIDAY
PRESENT DAY
“It’s a shame I won’t be here for long. I could get used to living in New York.” Excitement bubbles in my stomach as I walk through JFK airport alongside the other passengers who landed on the flight from London.
“You think he’s going to be easy to match?” my friend, Sophie, asks.
I readjust my bag on my shoulder and pull my suitcase, keeping the phone glued to my ear with my other hand.
“Totally. I’ve already been through his social media. He knows a lot of women. I might even find a good energy match with someone who’s already in his life.” I smile at a lady holding up a homemade ‘Welcome back’ sign as I walk past. “I’m telling you, one month and I’ll have found someone with a vibration that compliments his. In fact, make it three weeks. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“You’re—”
“Gifted?”
Sophie chuckles. “Sure. Gifted. Because whatever magic it is you possess, you know how to make people fall madly in love with one another. I’m sure Sterling Beaufort will be no different.”
My fingertips tingle with energy. “He won’t. Love’s coming his way, I can feel it.”
Sophie hums her agreement. We’ve been friends for years and couldn’t be more different. She’s a lawyer for the Crown Prosecution Service in London and deals with facts and evidence all day long. And I’ve built a successful business, matching people on their vibrations and energies, finding them their spiritually aligned partners with whom love can flourish. I have a waiting list to work with me, and I love my job.
Adore it.
“I guess being a billionaire makes dating harder. Maybe he only meets women who are after his money.”
I snort. “If you’re a successful man, women line up to date you. If you’re a successful woman?—”
“Men are intimidated,” Sophie finishes.
“Exactly,” I huff.
I’m a shining contradiction of my recently exploding success. I find people love. Yet I’ve been single for years. And it’s gotten worse as my business has grown. On the measly dates I have been on, the men’s unease over my success vibrates off them with more buzz than a fully charged sex toy. I’ve given up waiting for that burst of energy when I meet someone. That bolt of divine intervention from the universe, telling me there’s something there. Something special. Something magical.
Voices echo on the other end of the line as someone speaks to Sophie.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, my meeting’s about to start. Will you call me when you get to your apartment?”
“Sure will,” I promise before ending our call.
I toss my phone into my purse and walk outside.
“Hello New York,” I sing happily.
Autumnal coolness greets me as I scan the line of vehicles. Sterling’s daughter, Sinclair Beaufort, whom I’ve been liaising with, said she’d arrange a car to collect me, but I have no idea what to look for.
I study the line of waiting traffic before a horn honks, a hand extending from a car window in a wave. I head in its direction, pulling my suitcase along.
The door of the sparkly white sports car flies open, and a blonde woman jumps out in sky high heels and white jeans hugging her long legs. Sinclair Beaufort, twenty-three-year-old supermodel daughter of Sterling. Face of the family empire, Beaufort Diamonds, and model for numerous luxury brands.
The woman who hired me to find her father love.
She sees me staring at her car and giggles.
“They’re Swarovski crystals. Dad joked they should be diamonds because of the business. But I told him that would be impractical. I mean, can you imagine?”
I step closer to the gleaming vehicle. It’s covered in tiny crystals. I run a hand lovingly over it, caressing the texture the crystals create. Personally, I’d go for rose quartz if I had to choose. The crystal for love. Although, for a vehicle, maybe black tourmaline would be a better choice due to its protective properties.
“People would try to prise diamonds off to steal though,” I muse.
“Exactly!” Sinclair bobs her head enthusiastically. “Plus, every time I scrape it and lose some, the repair bill would be insane.” She flicks a hand in the air before holding it out to me in a flourish. “Anyway.” She flashes a mega-watt smile. “I know we’ve spoken on the phone, but it’s great to finally meet you in person, Halliday. I’ve been counting down the days.”
I take her hand, and she pulls me into a hug, my face landing in her long hair.
“It’s good to meet you too, Sinclair… You smell incredible.”
She laughs as I let her go. “A brand sent it to me as a gift. I forgot the name. Hang on.” She turns and grabs a nude Birkin bag from the front seat of the car. She rummages around inside and then pulls out a frosted perfume bottle shaped like a moon. “Here.” She reaches forward and pulls open the top of my purse, depositing it inside. “It’s yours now. First new thing you’ve got in New York.”
I gush out a surprised thanks, and she waves a hand at me. “Don’t mention it. You ready to go?” She pops the trunk and then lifts my giant suitcase into it with surprising ease for someone who can’t weigh more than 120lbs.
“Sure.”
I climb into the passenger seat, and she sinks into the driver’s side.
“Is the temperature okay? I can adjust it. What about the radio? What music do you like?” She looks at me eagerly, toying with her necklace with one hand.
“Put on anything you like.”
“Okay.” She chews her bottom lip and then her brows shoot up. “Ooh, how about this one? I set the station when I knew you were coming. It’s got relaxing music on it. I thought you might like it. It sounded meditation-y.”
Guilt niggles inside my gut that I dubbed Sinclair ‘Park Avenue Princess’ when I was telling Sophie about her. The press makes out she’s a bratty, party girl. But meeting her face-to-face, I can tell she’s really sweet and just excited that I’m finally here after all of our chats.
A yip from the back seat makes me jump.
“Monty!” Sinclair tuts. “Sorry if he scared you.” She reaches into the back, sitting forward with a bundle of gray and white in her arms. Two shiny black eyes blink and a tiny nose sniffs the air in my direction.
“Oh my Goodness, he’s so cute.”
I’ve always fancied having my own dog, but work takes me all over the place. It wouldn’t be fair to have a pet that I’d keep leaving behind.
“He really is.” Sinclair kisses him on the nose. “You want to hold him?”
“Yes, please.” I hold my arms out.
She deposits him into them, where he wags a tufted tail and sniffs happily at my face.
“He’s a Chinese Crested. You’re such a handsome boy, aren’t you?” she coos.
Monty pants happily from his position in my lap as I stroke the white hair on his ears.
“I like your sweater,” I tell him, earning myself a flurry of licks over my hand.
“Oh, Prada sent him that one. He gets cold being mostly hairless. We need to post a picture of you wearing it, don’t we, Monty? We can’t forget.” Sinclair winks at him. “He has his own following online,” she explains.
I continue fussing him. “That’s great. Well done, Monty.”
Sinclair’s lips twist into a thoughtful smile, watching him lap up my attention. “You know, he isn’t normally good with new people. But he loves you. I think dogs are the best judges of characters. They can sense things. You’ve passed the Monty test.”
I smile. “Maybe I could employ him as my assistant. He can help with the matchmaking.”
“Oh my god. I cannot wait to see you in action.” Sinclair revs the engine and then swerves out into the traffic, earning an angry blare of a horn. She blows a kiss and an apologetic wave in her wingmirror to the car behind.
“Why don’t you get me started?” I reach past Monty to grab my notebook and pen from my purse. I always start with handwritten notes. They resonate more and stay in my memory better than typed ones.
“Put him in the backseat if he’s in your way.”
“No, he’s good.” I straighten up and open my notebook as Monty settles in my lap, curling himself up so he can fit without falling off.
I’ve learned to go with the flow in my job as a divine power facilitator. Some people would call me a matchmaker or dating coach. But my title is more accurate. I truly believe the divine power of the universe sends love our way. I help people to recognize the signs, that’s all. And signs are around us all the time. Like Monty accepting me. He’s reinforcing Sinclair’s belief in me. A belief which will help create positive energy around us as I work. And the more positivity, the faster love manifests.
Forget three weeks, I should have told Sophie to expect me home in two.
“So, Mr. Beaufort, he’s been single for almost two years?”
“Yep, since my mother died.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, recognizing the lines caused by grief pinching the corners of her eyes. “What made him decide he was ready to open himself up to love again?”
I’ll ask Sterling these same questions when I meet him. But getting a picture from loved ones first can be immensely helpful.
“He’s ready,” Sinclair says decidedly. “He’s been dating a little, but it never develops into anything meaningful. He’s lonely and he doesn’t deserve to be.”
“He’s told you he feels lonely?”
“He doesn’t have to.” She sighs. “It’s in his eyes. You’ll see. He’ll realize you’re exactly what he needs.”
I place the cap on my pen and close my notebook, careful not to disturb Monty.
“You have told your father that you hired me, right?”
She waves a hand in the air with a dismissive hum. “It’s what he needs. He’ll see that the minute he meets you.”
I take a deep breath, looking out of the window at Manhattan’s skyline looming on the horizon. I suspected this could be the case when Sinclair avoided questions surrounding Sterling’s knowledge on our calls, and I’ve never actually spoken to him directly.
“Did I do something wrong? You can help him, can’t you?”
I turn and the pure anguish in her eyes makes my heart sink. She cares a lot about her father’s happiness, but it’s important I’m honest with her.
“Your love for him radiates from you like warm waves. It’s beautiful.” I smile reassuringly. “And no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m often hired by loved ones rather than the client themselves. But they are made aware of it before I arrive. You should understand, if the person isn’t open to love, the chances are?—”
“You’ve never failed though, right? You find everyone happiness.”
I press my lips together before I speak, careful not to snuff out the hope glimmering in her eyes. “Y-yes, but it’s not always straightforward. When I was asked to match the Prince of?—”
“Oh, please.” Sinclair wrinkles her nose. “I follow him online. Complete arrogant jerk. If you managed to find him love, then you’ll have no problem finding it for my father. You’re going to adore him. Everyone does. He puts everyone else before himself. He’s a gentleman.”
She turns toward me with renewed energy, causing another outraged horn to blare next to us as our car drifts out of the lane. The other driver shakes his head, but as he looks into the car and sees Sinclair blow him an apologetic kiss, his mouth curls into a smile.
I get it, Buddy. She’s gorgeous. I want to stare at her too.
She sighs and refocuses on the road. “Trust me, finding love for my father will be easy. I have complete faith in you. We’ll go to the apartment I set up for your stay, then I’ll take you to meet him. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
Excitement thrums in my veins. I don’t need to worry. I can feel in my gut that I’m supposed to be here. Sinclair has faith in me. I have faith in myself. My instincts have always served me well. I’ve made love matches for even the most difficult clients. Including those who had completely given up on love.
This time will be no different than any other client I’ve been hired to work with.
I’ll find the woman who will steal Sterling Beaufort’s heart.
I have no doubt.