The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) Read online

  “Um, great. We have so much to talk about. How did things go with Steve?”

  “I haven’t seen him yet. I’m waiting for my luggage at JFK.”

  “Have you talked at all?”

  “Not really. But Berlin was fantastic! Thanks for getting promoted.”

  I give a laugh born of irony. “My pleasure.”

  “Oh, there’s my luggage. I gotta go. Dinner tonight?”

  “I can’t. I’m in Connecticut.”

  There’s a pause. “But it’s not Christmas. It’s not even Thanksgiving.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a long story. But I’ll be back tomorrow. Sushi tomorrow night?”

  “You’re on! Bye!”

  I hang up. Colin is standing there, waiting for me to respond. But I still don’t know what to say.

  “Hey, who’s your friend?” Holly comes up beside me and holds my iced coffee out, but her gaze doesn’t shift from Colin.

  I grab the coffee from her. “Oh, um, Holly, this is Colin. Colin, my sister, Holly.”

  They shake hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” Colin says, and then turns back to me. “So what do you think?”

  “Um, look, Colin, that would be great…but we don’t even know if we’re going to take over the bakery yet. It’s all kind of up in the air.”

  His dark brows furrow in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your dad made it sound like it was a done deal.”

  Done deal? I really don’t like the sound of that, and I definitely don’t like the way it’s making my stomach churn with uneasiness.

  “What’s going on?” Holly asks, and I realize we’ve left her in the dark.

  “Oh, well, Colin has apparently been hired on at the bakery,” I say.

  Holly breaks out into a pleased grin. “Is that so? Well, Candy and I are still giving it some thought, but it’s actually looking really good.”

  Looking really good? I turn to my sister, my eyes wide with shock. I open my mouth to ask what the hell’s gotten into her, but she cuts me off.

  “Perhaps we should all get together for drinks tonight. Talk strategy? I know the first thing we need to do is redesign the entire shop.”

  Why does my sister want to talk strategy all of a sudden? I thought we were united against our parents, ready to rebel against their harebrain idea to make us quit our jobs and run the bakery.

  I need more than coffee. I need vodka.

  “That sounds perfect,” says Colin. “There’s a swank little bar that just opened at the end of the street. Eight o’clock?”

  “See you then!” Holly bats her eyelashes at Colin and then gives me a shove toward the front door.

  When did I lose all control over this situation? And why is she batting her lashes at him?

  I tamp down the tiny strain of jealousy that’s rushed to the surface and try to focus on the matter at hand. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as we spill onto the street again. “And where are we going? I thought we were going to pow-wow in there.”

  “No need!” Holly drags me toward the car parked on the other side of the street. “We’re doing it. This is such an amazing opportunity!”

  “Are you crazy?” I refuse to get in. There’s no way I’m letting her drive. “Maybe you didn’t hear me when I said that I’ve just been promoted to executive. There’s no way I’m leaving my position now. No way! And maybe a little ‘Congratulations on achieving your life-long dream, Candace!’ would be nice.”

  “Get in the car, Can.” Holly is calm as a cucumber and she has a big smile on her face. I’m desperate to jump the hood and smack it right off.

  “No.” I stare at her, dumbfounded. “And why all of a sudden the big about face? I thought you were just as furious as me about all this.”

  “I was furious Mom called my career a hobby.”

  “Oh.” That was it? She didn’t care that they expected her to drop everything to move back here?

  “Candy, get in the car!”

  “Fine!” I get in the car and slam the door. Holly peels out of the parking space like a bat out of hell and speeds down Main Street. I’m white knuckling the edges of my soft leather seat and wondering how the hell I got into this predicament. Ten minutes ago, I was thinking it was going to be hard to say no to my parents. Now it’s going to be near impossible, what with Holly pressuring me…and Colin. He’s an unexpected addition to the equation.

  No, this is ridiculous! I’m a grown up. I have a life, a career. This isn’t about peer pressure, it’s about saying no.

  “Holly, I’m not doing this,” I say, determined to put the kibosh on this idea once and for all.

  “Listen, Mom and Dad need us. Look at them. They’re tired. Don’t you think it’s time we stop being selfish and do something for them for once?”

  Compelling argument, but I know my sister. She doesn’t have a selfless bone in her body. “What’s going on, Hol?” I ask, turning serious.

  “Nothing.” We’re at a red light, but she refuses to make eye contact with me.

  “Fine, come visit me in New York sometime, all right?”

  “Ugh! All right.” She sighs. “I know I seemed blasé about things with Alan before, and Todd’s a great guy, but…things really didn’t end well with Alan. I’m kind of torn up about it. And I could actually use a change of scenery, you know? A fresh start.”

  “What about your job?” I ask, and she looks at me as if that’s the last question she wants to answer right now.

  “Um, well…the thing is…Alan was my boss.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, Hol, you know better than to get involved at work. Especially with your boss!”

  “I’m not looking for censure. Or sympathy, for that matter. I just want you to consider this whole thing. For me. I really need this.”

  She turns her big brown puppy dog eyes on me, and I want to cry. Though I’m not sure if it’s because I feel sympathy for my sister or because I know I’m about to throw away everything I’ve been working toward over the last several years.

  “Do you know what I’ll have to give up?” I say. “And what if I fail? You know how I am in the kitchen. This just won’t work, Holly. Isn’t it better we face that fact now rather than a year down the line when I’ve run the bakery into the ground?”

  “Just think about it, Candy,” Holly says with a pleading smile. “That’s all I ask.”

  Four

  By the time dinner rolls around, I’m at my wit’s end. I really don’t know what to do. Holly’s been moping around the house all afternoon, shooting me pathetic smiles whenever our paths cross. I’ve been trying to stay away from her, but she keeps finding me. She even barged in on me in the bathroom, which resulted in a childhood flashback. Holly is two years younger than me, which made us close, but maybe a little too close. We’ve always known exactly which buttons to push and the most effective ways to push them. Holly’s favorite thing has always been interrupting me while I’m on the toilet.

  Thankfully, Mom and Dad have been at the bakery all day, so I haven’t had to deal with them at all. Until now.

  We pull into the parking lot of their favorite Italian restaurant. It’s been around since I was a little girl, and we used to go every Sunday for family dinner. The façade is starting to show its age. The brickwork is crumbling, the windows are grimy and the awning is faded. I just hope the food is as good as I remember it.

  “So, what are we going to tell Mom and Dad?” Holly asks as we make our way to the restaurant’s door together.

  I’m agitated and a little nervous, but I have my favorite dress on—a black, flirty Betsey Johnson creation with tasteful sequins around the halter neck and hem. I know I’m overdressed for a night out in Sagehaven, but that’s the point. The dress—and shoes too, despite the fact my feet are still blistered from Paris—are there to serve as reminders of the life I currently lead. The life I want to continue to lead. The life I would not have if I ran a cupcake bakery in Connecticut.

  “I don’t know, yet,”
I say.

  “Well, are you thinking about it?” She sounds a little annoyed that I haven’t made the massive, life-changing decision already.

  Am I thinking about it? If I wasn’t thinking about it, I’d be able to say no right now. But why am I even bothering? I know I don’t want to do it. I know I want to get back on a train to New York and forget this whole thing ever happened.

  But then I look at my sister. Damn it. Why did she have to go and sleep with her employer? And why do I feel the need to bail my little sister out of her difficult situation? This would be so much easier if she was just as opposed to the idea as I am.

  “Yeah, I’m still thinking about it,” I say as we walk into the restaurant.

  “Oh, there they are!” Mom says, waving her arms above her head.

  My parents are the only ones in the place. Not a huge surprise since it’s five-thirty on a Saturday afternoon. When did they turn into old people? I take a good look at both of them, and I’m shocked by what I see now that I hadn’t seen earlier today. They’re exhausted. Mom’s face is definitely more wrinkled than I remembered; Dad’s hair has a lot more salt than pepper. Both of them have lost the light in their eyes.

  Guilt clutches my gut like a bad Mexican meal. They’ve been pouring their hearts and souls into Dottie’s Delights for more than thirty years. As much as I don’t want to run myself down as they have, I’m apparently their only backup until my daughter turns twenty-nine.

  A little sweat breaks out on my brow. Oh, God. Does that mean I’m going to be forced into procreation? My hand instinctively goes to my stomach and I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel its flatness. I haven’t done 10,000 crunches a week for the last ten years only to have some rug rat ruin it in a mere nine months.

  “Giovanni, you remember our girls, Holly and Candy,” Mom is saying.

  I hold out my hand, but Giovanni apparently thinks of us as more than just customers. He swoops in for a hug, then grabs my face and kisses my cheek as he pulls away.

  “Such-a beautiful girls you are!” he says in a thick Italian accent. “I remember when you were just-a babies!”

  “Yep, our little girls are all grown up,” Dad adds. I feel like I’m five again. It’s borderline ridiculous.

  “Please, come! Sit, sit!” Giovanni pulls chairs back at a table for four and beckons us to sit down. “Best-a table in the house, eh?”

  Not hard to have the best table in the house when you’re the only ones in the restaurant. “Wonderful. Thank you.”

  It’s quite a while before Giovanni leaves us alone, and I can’t help feeling grateful toward the gregarious older gentleman. But as he walks away, leaving us to our meals, the nerves settle in my stomach.

  I pick at my grilled chicken salad. It’s good, but I’ve lost my appetite for salad. What I really want is to dive into my dad’s spaghetti carbonara. The stress must really be getting to me for me to crave carbs. Other than the cupcake I was forced to eat earlier, the last time I had carbs was in Paris, and even then it was only a sliver of a baguette. But right now I’m feeling as if I might tear the ass out of an elephant if I don’t get a bite of that pasta.

  “Want to try a bite, honey?”

  I look at my father. He’s holding a forkful of the spaghetti out, waiting for me to take it.

  “Um, yeah, I guess.” I try to play it off nonchalantly, but inside I’m screaming for joy. I take the fork from Dad and shove the bolus of pasta into my mouth.

  Oh, my God.

  I’m struggling now to remember why I ever gave up carbs. The cheesy, buttery goodness dances on my tongue and feels so warm as it slides down my esophagus. It sits in my stomach like a warm blanket.

  “Like it?”

  I shrug. I can’t like carbs. I can’t give the appearance of liking carbs. It will seriously destroy me. “Yeah, pretty good, I guess.”

  “Have as much as you want.”

  Oh, God. Did he have to say that? Now it’s all I can think about.

  “So, girls,” Mom says. “Have you come to a decision?”

  My blood pressure is rising. Pasta will make you feel better. No, no it won’t. Shut up. Just a couple more bites to get you through this difficult conversation. Stop it! Carbs don’t help anything.

  “We took a drive to talk it over this afternoon.” Holly takes a bite of her veal parmigiana. That looks really good, too. “Candy is still thinking about it.”

  Mom’s eyes widen. “Does that mean you’re on board, Holly?”

  They’re having a touching mother-daughter moment. The kind you have when you tell your mom you’ve fallen in love with the man you’re going to marry, or when you announce you’re pregnant.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Yes, Mom,” she says. Is she tearing up? “I want to do this.”

  All eyes suddenly turn on me.

  “She can’t do it without you, Candy.” Dad puts his hand over mine and gives it a pat. “We can’t go on this cruise, either. Not unless you say yes.”

  This is starting to feel like a really bad nightmare, and all I want to do is wake up. Wake up! I can’t. Damn it, it’s real! This is all real. And everyone’s futures hinge on my decision.

  I have to stay strong. I run my hands down my Betsey Johnson dress and wiggle my toes inside my Manolos. They pinch, but who cares? They’re Manolos. Shoes that most women only dream of being able to afford. I can’t give this up. I can’t throw all this away because of a guilty conscience. Holly will have to deal with her own relationship problems, and Mom and Dad will have to find a way to vacation closer to home. For a shorter period of time.

  And there’s that guilt again. Clutching my gut, causing sweat to break out on my brow. The pressure is too much. I’ll never be able to live with this guilt if I say no.

  Oh, God.

  “Okay, fine!” I yell, and I can’t quite believe it. “I’ll do it, all right. I just…I need some time.”

  No one has heard the last part about me needing time because they’re all cheering and crying, and now Giovanni is rushing from the kitchen.

  “She said yes?” he asks, his eyes full of anticipation.

  “She said yes!” Mom shouts.

  “Oh, bene! Molto bene!”

  They’re all screaming and hugging. I feel like I’ve just landed on the set of “My Big Fat Italian Wedding.” It’s all so surreal, I must be dreaming it. With any luck, I’ll wake up tomorrow morning in my own bed, in my own apartment, only to realize none of this actually happened.

  ~*~

  It’s a few minutes past eight o’clock when Holly and I walk through the doors of Lumière, the swank new bar at the end of Main Street. The name of the place is in clear reference to its décor. The walls are made of mirrors, so it makes the hundred or so candles burning throughout the bar look like thousands. It’s quite a spectacle, but I take a mental note of all the EXIT signs just in case.

  I let Holly drive on the way over and now I’m dizzy from both the snap, life-changing decision I made and the car ride. The half bottle of Chianti I drank may also have a bit to do with how I’m feeling, but that was an absolute necessity. As is the gin and tonic (light on the tonic) I’ll drink next.

  “Candy!”

  I look toward the bar. Colin is waving us over from his stool. God, he’s hot. I thought he looked good this afternoon, but tonight…

  He should come with a warning because his beauty is so shocking.

  WARNING: Extremely hot guy. Hang on to your panties!

  Holly barges in front of me and makes an eager beeline for Colin. Clearly, I’m not the only one who finds him attractive. I am, however, the only one who’s not going to fawn over him like a farmer with his prized dairy cow. Madame Antoinette predicted Colin and I would fall in love—I’ll let the chips fall as they may.

  “So glad we could do this,” Colin is saying as I approach. “What are you drinking?”

  Holly puts a finger to her chin as she contemplates her options.

  I don�
��t have time to wait. “Gin and tonic, please.”

  “Make that two,” says Colin, and then he turns to me, a wide smile on his face. “One of my favorite drinks.”

  “Good taste, I see.”

  Holly is making a face. “Blech. I can’t stand gin or tonic. Put them together and that is one nasty drink. I’ll just have a cosmo, please.”

  “So,” Colin says as he picks his drink up from the bar. “Have you come to any conclusions, yet?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Yes!” Holly interrupts. She’s so excited to share the news I fear she might actually let out a squeal. “She said yes! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “All right!” Colin is smiling and nodding his head. I wish I could celebrate with them, but all I feel is anxiety. The more we talk about it the worse it gets.

  I have to quit my job. I have to pack up my life and move to Connecticut. Connecticut! I mean, it’s a nice state and all, but it’s not New York City. My mind takes a mental tally of all the things I’m going to miss like my favorite sushi restaurant, the wine and cigar bar I love on the Upper East Side. Shopping on 5th Avenue. My apartment. Oh, God. I think I’ll miss that most of all.

  “So when do you think you’ll be moving up here?” Colin asks, and Holly is right there with an answer.

  “Oh, right away, of course! Mom and Dad leave for their cruise in four weeks, so there’s a lot of work to do. Especially for Candy. She’s going to be doing all the baking, you know?”

  “Is that right?” Colin takes a sip of his G&T. I gulp mine down like I’ve been wandering the desert for a week. “I’m sure you’re fantastic. You have to be after growing up with your mom. Man, she’s good.”

  Anxiety is gripping me like a friggin’ python. I want to speak, but I can’t. Thankfully, Holly is obnoxious enough to dominate the conversation.

  “Oh, no!” she says with a laugh. “Candy doesn’t know anything about baking.” She turns to me. It’s like she’s rewinding her brain fifteen years or so. This is bound to be embarrassing. “Oh, my God. Do you remember that time Mom made you help out because her assistant called in sick?”