“Are you okay, Pinky?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. I hurt my knee and she stabbed my arm. How about you?” He whimpered and his eyes filled with tears. “What’s the matter? Is it your head? Are you going to die? Spencer, please tell me.”
“My couch,” he cried. “She killed my beautiful couch.”
CHAPTER 19
Your matches are looking for their happy endings. Their happily ever afters. The thing is that happy endings are just the beginning. They represent a life change, which will change your matches in ways they never expected. But you need to expect the changes, bubbeleh. A matchmaker needs to know what will happen after the ending…when the beginning will happen.
Lesson 118, Matchmaking advice from your
Grandma Zelda
Spencer got thirty stitches in his head. I got fourteen stitches in my arm. Spencer had a concussion, so I had to wake him up in the middle of the night and ask him who the president was. I was given good drugs for my knee and a brace to wear for a couple weeks.
Spencer arrested Roman and Joy and handed them over to Remington and Margie, while we went to the hospital. As soon as we were released, I went home, sat on Grandma’s bed, held her hand, and told her the truth about her son’s death.
We cried about the senseless loss of a beautiful and loved man. We celebrated the truth that he was willing to stand up for his friend, Rachel, and confront Roman. And we breathed. Closure was good for breathing, but it didn’t necessarily help with grief. The sadness was still there. The loss was still keenly felt. But we felt closer to my father, knowing why he died and knowing about the last days of his life.
It turned out that Ruth’s hip was only bruised, and Draco’s cornea was scratched but would be fine. Even though Draco was another spoiled, middle-American male, bowing at the altar of Atlas Shrugged, Ruth gave him a part-time job at Tea Time, washing tea cups.
I had started this journey in the attic, thinking that my father was alive. That didn’t turn out to be the case, but at least he got some justice. With the chapter of my father’s death closed, a certain amount of serenity settled on my grandmother’s house, while Spencer and I slept on and off for three days.
“My poor couch,” he moaned on the third day, as we lay in each other’s arms in my bed. “It never did anything to anyone. It didn’t even live long enough to have a butt mark. My butt never touched it. Poor couch.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling responsible for the loss of his beloved couch. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“Nothing. Not unless you have a custom-made couch hidden somewhere for me.”
“I don’t have a couch. How about I let you do that thing to me that I’ve always refused to do?”
Spencer sat up in bed. “Really? The thing that I really want to do, but you said that Jewish girls weren’t allowed to do or they would turn into salt?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Is it my birthday, or am I dying, and you’re keeping it secret from me?”
“Spencer, I’m sorry about your couch. I mean our couch. I want you to know that I appreciate you making a home for us. I know you’re doing it because you love me.”
“I do love you, Pinky. And I’ll love you even more when we do the thing.”
“You’ve been so considerate, trying to make a perfect house for me with every thoughtful detail. I don’t think I’ve shown you how much I appreciate everything that you do.”
“Letting me do the thing will show me your appreciation.”
“Okay. Okay. Let’s do the thing.” My phone rang.
“Don’t answer that,” Spencer urged. “Call them back after we do the thing.”
“I have to answer. It’s Bridget. What if she’s in labor?”
“She’s always in labor. C’mon, Pinky. Do a guy a favor. I’m in mourning over my couch.”
I answered the phone. “Bridget? Are you okay?”
“You better come over quick, Gladie. Oooouuuuahhhh!!!”
“I’ll be right there!”
Bridget didn’t come to her door, so I let myself in with the extra key she had given me. I found her sitting at her kitchen table with her knees together and a layer of sweat on her face.
“Make it stop, Gladie,” she whimpered.
I mopped her face with a napkin and gave her a glass of water. “How are you feeling, Bridget? Do you want to go to the hospital? Should I call Dr. Sara?”
“No. We can’t. I can’t have the baby, Gladie.”
“Why not? Is something wrong?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“Who doesn’t like you?”
“My baby. He doesn’t like me.”
“He loves you,” I assured her.
“No, he doesn’t. That’s why he hasn’t wanted to come out. It’s because he doesn’t like me.”
I held Bridget’s hands and looked her in the eyes. “Bridget Donovan, you are my best friend in the whole world. You are the sweetest, kindest, most empathetic person I’ve ever met. Your son is the luckiest little boy to have a mother like you. He’s going to like you. He’s going to adore you. Are you in labor?”
“My water broke an hour ago.”
“Okay. Let’s get going and welcome this beautiful little boy into the world.”
I called Dr. Sara and told her to meet us. At the hospital, the nurses seemed to understand that this time, Bridget was really and truly in labor. Bridget was strangely calm, and so was I. It might have been because we had had so many practice drills that when the real moment happened, it was anti-climactic.
“Alexa, Debussy,” Dr. Sara ordered when Bridget was ready to push after a few hours of labor. It only took her three pushes to bring her baby into the world. Dr. Sara let me cut the umbilical cord, and she handed the baby to Bridget. It was the most powerful experience of my life. Seeing Bridget’s son born filled me with emotion.
“He’s so beautiful,” I blubbered. “Look what you did. You made a human being. You’re a miracle worker. You’re amazing.”
“I made a human being,” Bridget repeated, looking into the eyes of her son.
“Feel his skin. It’s so soft. I exfoliate, but my skin doesn’t feel anything like this. What a cutie pie. Little Fidel, or is it Lech or Che? What did you name him?” I asked.
“His name is Jonathan.”
My throat grew thick, and I cried some more. “You named him after my father?”
Bridget took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I couldn’t think of a better man to name my son after.”
I stayed with Bridget and little Jonathan for a few hours until Bridget fell asleep and the nurses shooed me out of the hospital. I was exhausted. Not only was the labor long, but it was emotional. On the way home, I stopped at Tea Time for coffee.
I opened the door to the tea shop. It was practically empty. Ruth was sitting at a table with another woman, and they were the only ones in the place. “Ruth, latte,” I ordered, as I walked inside.
“Cool your jets, girl. Can’t you see that I’m busy?” she said.
“I just helped bring life into the world. I need coffee, Ruth.”
“Grandma?” I asked. “Is that you?”
“Of course, dolly. Who else would it be?” she said.
Normally, it would be anybody except for my grandmother. Grandma hadn’t left her property line willingly since my father died years ago. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m having a nice cup of tea and a bran muffin. Beautiful day, don’t you think, bubbeleh? Perfect day for new beginnings.”
Check out the next installment with It’s a Wonderful Knife.
And don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter for new releases and special deals: http://www.elisesax.com/mailing-list.php
The story continues with book 10, It’s a Wonderful Knife.
Also by Elise Sax
Matchmaker Mysteries Series
Road to Matchmaker
An Affair to Dismember
Citizen Pain
The Wizards of Saws
Field of Screams
From Fear to Eternity
West Side Gory
Scareplane
It Happened One Fright
The Big Kill
It’s a Wonderful Knife
Ship of Ghouls
Goodnight Mysteries Series
Die Noon
Five Wishes Series
Going Down
Man Candy
Just Sacked
Wicked Ride
Five Wishes Series
Three More Wishes Series
Blown Away
Inn & Out
Quick Bang
Three More Wishes Series
Forever Series
Forever Now
Bounty
Switched
Moving Violations
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elise Sax writes hilarious happy endings. She worked as a journalist, mostly in Paris, France for many years but always wanted to write fiction. Finally, she decided to go for her dream and write a novel. She was thrilled when An Affair to Dismember, the first in the Matchmaker Mysteries series, was sold at auction.
Elise is an overwhelmed single mother of two boys in Southern California. She’s an avid traveler, a swing dancer, an occasional piano player, and an online shopping junkie.
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