Miss Match (34 page)

"We're leaving." He pulls twenty bucks from his wallet, drops it on
the table, and pushes back his chair. "Get up."

He gets me in the car and drives the few minutes to Merson's. Shawn
looks up as we walk inside.

"Hey, guys."

I inhale. Look around. Three-fourths of the tables are filled, Dessert
Heaven exists in perfect conformity, and Shawn is already pouring two
mugs of coffee.

"Shawn, Shawn, I love you." I grab his spare hand across the counter
and kiss it.

"Ease up, Hon." Ryan pulls me back a few inches. "You're scaring the
man with the desserts."

Shawn watches me, one eyebrow raised. "Should I be worried?" he
asks Ryan.

"No. Just Laurie's unusual way of expressing herself, that's all."

Shawn nods but keeps a wary eye on me. "Here. Coffee."

I take the cup with a grin. "Thanks, Shawn."

Ryan steers me to an empty table, and Shawn comes over, notepad in
hand. "What did you two want?"

I look at him. "Do you know how to make tortellini?"

My lamp is glowing like milk left out for four days. I squint at it, scrutinizing it. It may be time to change the lightbulb. It seems dimmer.

I shake my head slightly, trying to get myself to focus. My
Bible is open on my lap, but I'm having a hard time not getting
distracted tonight.

Possibly the fault of the three mochas I consumed at eight
this evening.

Rubbing my forehead, I stare at the words of Philippians 4. "Whatever
is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praise
worthy-think about such things."

Paul liked the word whatever.

I slide my highlighter under the verse. There's a command here. To
think about this list of whatevers. True, noble, right, pure, lovely.

Lovely.

A verse Nick had referred to in his last teaching comes back
to me, and I flip to Psalm 50:2. "From Zion, perfect in beauty, God
shines forth."

It seems to me, mocha-brained and all, the only thing truly fulfilling
this list is God Himself.

I turn the Four-Day-Glowing-Milk lamp off, no longer having trouble focusing.

I get to work just before nine on Friday morning. The studio is dark, cold,
and quiet. I get the same feeling in the studio on days like this that I get
in a church when there is no one there but me. Creeped out.

I peel off my gloves, stick my backpack in the cubby, unscrew the cap
on my thermos of coffee, and turn up the thermostat.

Brandon comes through the door whistling and ends the creepiness.
"Morning, Laur."

I swallow. "Hey."

"How'd Ruby's date go last night?"

I shrug. "She's not here. I don't know."

Brandon frowns. "She's not here?"

"Nope."

"It's nine o'clock." He points out the window. "That's the Stewarts
getting out of their van. Ruby has them."

I follow his finger and note that he is correct. "Hmm."

"You'll have to take them."

"Brandon, I have an appointment in ten minutes."

He sighs. "Okay. I'll take the Stewarts, you cover your appointment,
and if Ruby isn't here in half an hour we're calling the police, got it? This isn't like her."

"Ah, love old."

As the Stewarts walk in, the hell over the door dings. "Ruby couldn't
make the appointment, so you'll be with me." Brandon leads them into
Studio One.

Hannah arrives just as the door closes behind them. "Hey, Laurie.
How'd Ruby's date go?"

"She's not here."

Hannah stops unwrapping her scarf, sets her coffee down, and gasps.
"Ruby's not here?"

"Nope.

She stares at the closed door of Studio One. "But that was the
Stewarts."

"Correct."

"They're Ruby's clients."

I nod. "Brandon took them."

"Weirdness. I hope she's not home crying." Hannah's eyes get big.
"Oh, Laurie, what if the date was horrible?"

"Not possible. Didn't you see them on Wednesday night? Can't
you see Herman?" The bouquet had to stay because it wouldn't fit in
Ruby's car.

Hannah's advancing to panic mode. "What if it was to soften the
blow that he didn't really like her like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like he liked her, like, seriously."

"You lost me after the second like." I smile.

Hannah rolls her eyes, but sighs and giggles. "Speculating does
nothing. I say we get to work." She shoves her purse in the cubby and sits
authoritatively in her chair.

"Good idea." I take another drink. "What should we work on?"

"When is your first appointment?" She looks at the schedule book.
"In exactly four minutes. That gives us plenty of time to sketch out a
battle plan."

"A battle plan," I repeat dubiously.

"For when Ruby comes in."

"We'll battle her?" I raise one eyebrow.

"We'll assess the waters and bridge the moat if necessary."

"Mmm. Too much symbolism, Hannah."

She points at me. "You'll see how the date went, and I'll comfort
her."

"Hey! How come I have to be the bad guy?"

"You've known her longer."

I open my mouth to protest.

"The Lawsons are here, Laurie."

Rats.

Hannah is sharper than she looks, I'll give her that.

I come out of Studio Two at 9:40 and find Brandon pacing and Hannah
wringing her hands. I wave good-bye to the clients and turn to my
comrades.

"She's not here yet?" I ask.

"No, and she's not answering her phone. Laurie, what if it was horrible and Ruby went home and-" Hannah stops, but her petrified
expression says it all.

"Hannah, she wouldn't do anything that drastic. Hand me my
backpack."

Brandon stops pacing long enough to watch me pull on my gloves.
"Where are you going?"

"To Ruby's house."

"What about your appointments?" he asks, mouth open.

"I just have one at ten, and surely I'll be back before my twelve
o'clock. You take the Gordons."

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and march out of the studio,
Brandon and Hannah gaping behind me.

Ruby lives four blocks away in half of a cute little duplex. The other
half is owned by a fifty-five-year-old spinster named Odella Purvis, who
is a workaholic perfectionist and every year plants a line of petunias
straighter than a ruler and just about as boring. Ruby once told me she's
scared to death she'll never get married and end up like Odella, but I told
Ruby she couldn't possibly. Men run from names like Odella. They don't
from names like Ruby.

I park in front of the house and jog up the front steps, past the adorable little porch, and knock on the door.

No answer.

I pound the door and ring the doorbell four times.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, Hannah's fear creeps in and I
start getting worried, especially when there still isn't an answer.

There is nothing else left to do. I resort to screaming.

"Ruby! RUBY! RUUUUBY!"

I hear a slam and see Odella, dressed professionally from the waist
up but wearing designer sweatpants and plain brown functional slippers,
march down her front steps, cross her arms over her chest, and glare piercingly at me with eyes that could be soft and brown but at the moment are
radiating a steel-like quality.

"What in blue heavens are you doing?" she barks.

"I'm Laurie. I'm trying to find Ruby ... uh, ma'am."

It seems a little odd to be calling a woman in a blazer, slippers, and
curlers ma'am, but Odella fairly radiates ma'amness.

"She's in my kitchen, so for the love of all things quiet, stop yelling
like a buzzsaw and get in my house."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And hurry. You made me leave the door open. That's probably a
good twenty dollars of warm air I just let out."

She marches back up the stairs. I consider-only for a
moment-walking across her grass to get to her front door, see the look
on her face, and quickly reconsider. I run down the porch steps, over the
sidewalk, up Odella's porch steps, and into her house. 'Ihe moment my
foot hits the beige tiled entry, she slams the door closed.

"For heaven's sake. Couldn't you just call?" Odella gripes, leading
the way to her kitchen, rubbing her hands on her arms in an effort to
warm up.

"We did call." I'm tripping along behind her like a little lost dog.
"We called Ruby's house. Several times. And we never ... ah ..."

We enter a living room. That is, I think it's a living room. All I see
is beige, beige, beige. On the walls, the carpet, the couches, even the
entertainment center.

I think of the scene in The Ten Commandments where Charlton
Heston is sent to the desert and the sandstorm kicks up and everywhere
he looks is just brown.

What a depressing color.

No wonder Odella has a moniker like that.

"This way, Laurie," she snaps and thumbs to an old-style bar door.
She pushes through it and I follow, blinking.

I stop blinking for just a moment when I step into the kitchen but
quickly start again. My contacts are beginning to dry out.

Ruby is crumpled on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, aimlessly stirring a china teacup with something green in it, staring at the
oven door. Her hair is a wavy, tangled wreck, she doesn't have any makeup on, and she wears a bright red robe over some flannel polka-dot pajamas.
A four-inch mountain of Kleenex grows on the counter beside her.

"Uh, Ruby?" I creep up beside her.

She drags her eyes off the oven and blinks red-rimmed eyes repeatedly at me. "Laurie?"

Oy. I refrain from saying it out loud. She looks like she was trampled
by a high school marching band and then dropped into the tuba.

"Hi, Honey," I say, my voice warm and syrupy like Hershey's chocolate sauce. "What happened?" I sit down beside her, wrapping an arm
over her shoulders, pushing the strong-smelling, inedible-looking tea out
of her reach.

Her eyes fill. "He likes me," she whispers.

Not the response I'm expecting.

"Okay," I say slowly, rubbing her shoulder. "Then why ... ?"

"He sat there last night and told me straight to my face that he likes
me!" Her voice is choked and full.

"Ruby, I'm not seeing what the problem is."

"We were sitting there after dinner at this little dessert place and he
held my hand and told me he likes me and I ... I ..." She bursts into
tears, covering her face.

I look up at Odella, who stands with arms crossed, leaning against
her cabinets. "She threw up," Odella supplies unemotionally.

"Oh, Sweetie." I hug Ruby tighter.

"I can't believe it! I was so embarrassed. And I threw up a lot too. I felt
sick the whole way home and I just couldn't look at him."

"What did he say?"

She waves a hand, bleakly. "He said he hoped I felt better."

"That's it?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember?"

She closes her eyes in pain. "I fell asleep in his car. When I woke up,
I was here."

"In Odella's house?"

Odella nods. "The man came banging at my door at ten last night,
wondering if I had a spare key to Ruby's because he couldn't get her
house key to work. Naturally, I don't. I don't believe in having spare
keys lying around for every burglar in the neighborhood to break into
everyone's house as he pleases."

I nod, only half-listening to her ranting.

Ruby rubs her swollen eyes and sighs. "I botched it, Laurie. The one
guy I've ever really liked and I ruined it!" She dissolves into yet more
tears.

I look back at Odella, who hands me another Kleenex box without
a word.

A thought hits me and I feel like throwing up just thinking
about it.

"Uh, Ruby?" I cut into her sobs, rubbing her back.

"Wh-what?" She shudders, mopping her nose and eyes with a
Kleenex.

"You didn't, I mean, you two didn't go to Halia's, did you?"

She blinks and nods. "Yeah. How'd you know?"