“Because I need an introduction.”
“He’s lived on the street for two years.” Molly pointed toward the direction of his house.
Agnes gave her a look like she was purposely being dense and Agnes wasn’t having it. “I’ve been avoiding him since he moved in.”
“Say what?”
“He needed time. Couldn’t pop into his life too soon.” Fries finished, Agnes began unwrapping her burger. “Timing is everything.”
“How is it possible you’ve never met him?” Molly was sure she’d seen them talking at the mailbox. Then again… she filtered back through her memories and, no, there had never been a time when Agnes and Mr. Davenport had been in the same room together. They may as well have been Clark Kent and Superman.
“I’m wily like that.” Agnes smoothed the wax paper from her hamburger.
“Okay.” Molly held up her hands. “Let’s say I introduce you to Mr. Davenport.”
“Charlie.”
“I’ve never called him anything but Mr. Davenport.”
“But you will.”
“This is still a hypothetical introduction; let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, he’s Mr. Davenport.”
Agnes harrumphed in a way that Molly had never heard before. She sounded like…Mr. Davenport.
And just for the sake of knowing… “How much prize money are we talking?”
Agnes grabbed a pencil and scrap of paper from beside her telephone—she still had a landline, even if she’d had to give up the corded version for the cordless when her old phone finally croaked. She wrote a number and pushed the paper to Molly.
The number? It was a nice number. Nest egg nice.
“Does it even count as matchmaking if you’ve already decided on the prospect?” Molly hadn’t read the rules, but since it was a matchmaking contest, it would seem that there should be some actual matchmaking magic.
“The way I see it, you can either take Charlie out on a date so you’ll realize he is the peanut butter to my jelly sandwich, or you can take my word for it.”
Molly would much rather take her word for it.
Agnes pulled a pickle from between the buns and bit into it. “The last time I picked a fella, he became my husband. I’m careful like that.”
Yes, Molly should have just kept her hand up under her chin because her jaw muscles were getting a workout. What with all the dropping going on tonight.
Agnes dabbed at the side of her mouth with her fingertip. “Besides, this saves time. The contest is starting. You introduce us. Go on a few dates and report back to the contest. Keep a running log of the two of us while Charlie realizes I’m his jelly.”
“This seems like a lot of work. Why don’t I just introduce you two and go get a part-time job?”
“Because you don’t want a part-time job. The contest only runs for a few weeks, just in time for you to get your money. I’ll get my Charlie. Everybody wins.”
Her Charlie? Seriously, where had Molly been the past forever? She’d never suspected Agnes was interested in a gentleman friend. Much less this particular friend.
Though, now that the secret was out in the open, the wheels were turning in Molly’s brain. Not well—they were clunky as all get-out—but they were moving in a circular fashion.
Even if she didn’t get the prize money—and she needed the prize money—Agnes wanted this. And Molly was a sucker for Agnes.
Molly trailed her fingertip along the edge of the Formica countertop. “Let’s say, hypothetically?—”
“Hypothetically.” Agnes nodded along.
“That I agree to introduce you to Mr. Davenport,” Molly continued.
