What Harriet needed was a distraction. A good one. A chance to meet someone without realizing she was there to meet someone. It seemed callous to plan something that would sway Harriet in favor of staying, but it was for everyone’s good. Matchmaking required a little bit of maneuvering, even a little nudging sometimes. Harriet would be better off without a long distance relationship, and then she’d be open to new possibilities, like Elton. But how was she to help Elton and Harriet fall in love without revealing her role as matchmaker?
They needed to meet in a low-pressure environment with plenty of chances to talk. Harriet was here every day, but being in caregiver mode, her focus was on Granddad, and she wasn’t dressed to impress.
Emma whipped out her phone and Googled possible date ideas until she came across a post about murder mystery dinner parties. They sold kits online with instructions and costume suggestions. All she’d have to do was host it.
It was the perfect way to make sure two specific people were seated next to each other and interacting without being conspicuous about it. She’d invite Isabella and John, of course. It would give them a fun date night that didn’t revolve around Netflix after the kids went to bed. They didn’t get out often enough. George would hate it, but he’d come because he was a good sport.
Emma would have to carefully add other single people to cloak the fact that she was playing matchmaker for Elton and Harriet. Everything was coming together. She had a plan.
***
Who else is going to this thing?
George watched the little dots indicating that Emma was working on an answer to his question. He considered possible motives behind Emma’s sudden need for a dinner party. Emma never did things like this without a goal in mind. That’s just how she operated.
Who are you, a mean high school girl? You don’t ask who else is coming before saying yes.
Oh, Emma. Being elusive about the guest list was not a good sign. Chances were pretty good he’d cave and go to this thing, but not before giving her a hard time. He looked at the clock on the wall. He had about two minutes left to get some real information out of her, or at least frazzle her in the process.
And yet, I’m asking.
You’re the first to know. You should be flattered I’m telling you before everyone else.
Ah, a guilt trip and deflection. That wouldn’t work on him. He’d let his non-answer percolate while he checked with his brother. Chances were pretty good Isabella was in on this new scheme, and she and John didn’t keep secrets from each other.
John had the big, rough hands of a construction worker, and he hated texting. He said it was for teens with no social skills. Unfortunately, that usually meant phone calls where they shouted to each other over the sound of a band saw whining in the background.
Sure enough, when John answered, there were lots of hammering and clattering tool noises going on behind him.
“Hey, John, did you and Bella get invited to some murder mystery dinner party by Emma?”
“Yeah, not happening. Not if I have any say in the matter.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“I guess that’s a no, I haven’t heard anything. But I’ll check with Bella. Dang, she’ll want to go to that, won’t she? Never get married, George. It’s a trap.”
George laughed. John and Isabella had their own twisted sense of humor when it came to their marriage. There were no two people in the world more in love, and yet they used nicknames for each other like ‘hope smasher’ and ‘dream killer.’ Weirdos.
John hung up, and George went back to his text message thread with Emma. He wouldn’t be able to check his phone again until he left work, so he typed out a quick response sure to spin her up.
So flattered. Let’s put a pin in this and talk about it in five years.
She’d love that. Now that he thought about it, his relationship with Emma was as weird as Isabella and John’s.
He put his phone away and approached the reception desk.
He knew from the way Lois audibly sighed every time he came within five feet of her, that training was the last thing she wanted to be doing today. Frankly, it was the last thing any of them wanted her doing, but someone had to see patients, so she could continue to sigh away if it made her feel better. However, the paperwork he’d let pile up could no longer wait, and he brought it to the desk Lois and Jane were sharing and cleared his throat. Lois kept typing, but Jane whirled around.
“Can I help you with something?”
He handed over his stack of request forms. “These three need pre-authorizations from insurance and these are referrals for specialists. I need them all before the end of the day.”
“I’m on it,” Jane said.
His phone dinged with another text message, but he didn’t check it. Persistent little Emma would have to wait.
Jane sifted through the forms. “Oh, Aunt Betty wanted me to remind you that you’re invited to dinner this Thursday at six. She’s making meatloaf, and it’s better than it sounds. You’re coming, right?”
