Once Upon a Matchmaker Read Online Free Page A

eye.
    “Boys,” Micah interjected sternly, “what did I tell you about arguing?”
    “Don’t,” both boys chorused, their eyes downcast. Both appeared to be properly chastised, although Micah suspected that a little playacting was going into their performances.
    Satisfied that they were going to behave for at least the next five minutes, Micah nodded and turned his attention back to the meal. Their waiter was approaching the table.
    “All right, let’s order the food while it’s still Mother’s Day,” he urged his sons.
    * * *
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sheila asked, looking dismayed, annoyed and worried all at the same time.
    “But I just did,” Micah pointed out, spreading his hands wide.
    They had barely crossed the threshold to his house before his aunt had pounced and demanded to know what was going on. They’d stayed at the restaurant a good two hours and apparently she had enjoyed every minute of it. But now, she informed him in a no-nonsense voice, it was time to come clean.
    “What’s wrong and why do you feel you need a lawyer?” she’d asked—and he’d told her.
    Told her everything.
    Granted it was a summarized version, and he’d left out a few details because she was outside the realm of those who had a need to know, but he’d relayed the general gist of it.
    She’d taken it all in quietly, making no comment while he talked. But he could tell that she was upset.
    “Besides,” he pointed out, “it’s Sunday. There’s not much I can do about this until tomorrow.” Everything had blown up on him late Friday afternoon. He’d spent Saturday trying to come to terms with the unexpected, jarring turn his life had taken.
    “Oh, yes, there is,” Sheila informed him in no uncertain terms. She went directly to the kitchen and the phone on the wall.
    To his knowledge, no good law firm did business on a Sunday. “Who are you going to call?” he asked sarcastically. “Lawyers R Us?”
    Granted he wasn’t an expert, but in his opinion, any attorney who was in his office or on call on a Sunday was either desperate, ridiculously expensive or not any good. None of which were qualities he was seeking in the person he needed to represent him. He needed someone good who charged a reasonable fee, one that he had a fighting chance of paying off before the turn of the next century.
    Sheila stopped just short of dialing, looking at her nephew over her shoulder. “Remember that woman who waved at me in the restaurant?”
    He remembered. Remembered, too, the tall, striking blonde he’d made eye contact with. It had been an odd feeling, a little like déjà vu, as if he’d been in exactly the very same spot before.
    But of course he hadn’t. He blamed it on his overwrought nerves.
    Shaking off the feeling, he got back to his aunt’s question. There seemed to be only one reason why she would refer to the other woman.
    “She’s a lawyer?” he guessed. But the moment he said it, he knew that didn’t make any sense. “I thought you said she sold you the condo.”
    He didn’t want to hurt his aunt’s feelings, especially not on a day that celebrated mothers. He was ever mindful of the fact that she had taken him in when she didn’t have to. No law would have made her open her home—not to mention her heart—to an orphaned relative. She’d done that out of the goodness of her heart and he loved her for it.
    Still, this was his life—and quite possibly his freedom—they were talking about.
    “Usually anyone who wears two hats doesn’t wear either one well,” he told her diplomatically.
    The boys were sitting on the floor watching a cartoon video his father kept on hand just for occasions like this, when Gary looked up, his attention captured by the phrase his father had used.
    He frowned thoughtfully. “She wasn’t wearing any hats, Daddy. Don’t you remember?”
    “My mistake,” Micah said.
    It was easier saying that than getting involved in an explanation that cited the sentence