Cupid's Christmas (22 page)

After everything that had happened, I was determined not to let anything spoil our Thanksgiving day, and nothing did—not my mismatched candles, not the missing cranberry sauce, and not even Ray.

Okay, I’ll admit I was a bit worried at first, because Ray walked in wearing that ‘I dare you to cross me’ look of his, but I nodded across the room and gave John the high sign. Next thing I know, he’s standing alongside Ray asking what he thinks of this year’s Philadelphia Eagles. After that they moved on to talking about football, basketball and the stock market. I had to chuckle when I heard them discussing the Daytona five-hundred, because that’s one sport John doesn’t know a thing about.

The one who really surprised me that day was Traci. The girl has never shown one iota of domesticity, and yet she spent most of the afternoon following me around the kitchen asking what ingredients go into one thing and another. She even wrote them down on a little notepad she pulled from her pocket. And, if that wasn’t surprise enough, right after dinner she asked if I’d teach her how to crochet a throw, I started wondering if she meant
throw or baby blanket
.  Traci had a certain look, and it was a look I’m not usually wrong about.

All in all, it was a really good day. Everybody said the turkey was delicious, but I didn’t taste much myself—I was too busy being happy.

I was packing up leftovers when Ray and Traci came in to say goodbye. He kissed my cheek then leaned over and whispered in my ear that John was a pretty nice guy after all. When I saw Ray walk out the door wearing a smile, I thought my heart would burst because it was so full of happiness.

You can’t ask for a better Thanksgiving than that.

Cupid…The Dog’s in the Mail

R
ight now I am seeing a rosy outlook for everyone—everyone except me. I’m not quite finished here and I’ve still got the 684 not-so-happy couples to deal with. Yeah, maybe I could walk away and let love take its course, but the truth is I’ve got a vested interest in seeing it out. People like Eleanor restore my faith in humans. Granted, you’re an odd lot, but you’re what I’ve got to work with. So I try to make the best of it and every so often, a few couples like this happen along—then I realize how really important my job is. After more centuries than you’ve got fingers to count, I still get a thrill out of matches like this.

U
nfortunately Lindsay’s days of working at the Kindness Animal Clinic were over, at least for the time being—and even though that accident was not of my making, her not being at the clinic gave me the opportunity to push my plan into action. It started five days after Thanksgiving when Matthew received an e-mail that read:

Dear Doctor Mead,

I am responding to a notice you posted on the Tiny Treasures website. I think we have the dog you are looking for. Three weeks ago a dog matching this description showed up in our back yard. I thought it most likely belonged to someone in our area, but after two weeks of advertising in the newspaper and putting posters in store windows, no one has called to claim her. Yesterday we took the dog to our vet for a checkup and discovered that she has a microchip implant with the Kindness Animal Clinic listed as owner. The address indicates that you are in New Jersey. We are located in Florida and I am uncertain as to how best to get this dog back to you. Please advise.

Jayne Rayner. –

A photo of the dog is attached.

At first Matthew thought the e-mail was a hoax, a cruel joke maybe. He sat there and reread the words four times before he could come to believe it was true. A fairly practical man, he kept asking himself
how
Kindness could be listed as the owner. Was it possible Lindsay found the dog and put the chip in? No, not possible. She’d have said something.

After nearly a half hour of wondering how this had happened, he came to accept that there was no explanation. The picture of the dog was exactly the same as the one Lindsay tacked onto the bulletin board. Finding the dog was as unexplainable as a crocus popping up from beneath the snow or a rainbow on a clear day.

Carefully measuring the weight of each word, Matthew responded to the e-mail,

Dear Ms. Rayner,

I am delighted to learn that your vet discovered the microchip in…
he hesitated a moment then typed in the name
Fluffy
…the woman inferred the dog was a female—the e-mail read took
her
to the vet,
she
had a microchip—but probably best to use a generic name good for either male or female.

He started typing again…

I am delighted to learn that your vet discovered the microchip in Fluffy. My fiancée has been searching for her for well over a month and this will most certainly be welcome news. If you will send me the name of the vet you work with, I can arrange for them to crate and ship the dog to me. To thank you for taking such good care of Fluffy, I’d like to send you a token of my appreciation, so please also include your address.

Sincerely yours,

Matthew Mead

He pressed send. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Nowhere in the e-mail had he actually lied, well with the single exception of giving Fluffy a name. He had not said send her
home
, nor had he said it was his dog, or Lindsay’s dog, he had simply said they’d been searching for her. Okay, he did call Lindsay his fiancée which was a stretch, but perhaps in time…For once Lindsay is right, this one is a man with principles.

I watched as Matthew leaned back in his chair and began waiting. That day he checked his e-mail seventeen times. He found plenty of messages, dog food specials, breeder notices, volunteer requests, everything but an answer from Jayne Rayner.

Later that night as he sat on the sofa alongside of Lindsay, I knew it was all he could do not to mention the e-mail. He was afraid there was a remote chance it wouldn’t work out. I can assure you it will, but you’ll have to wait to learn about Matthew’s plan.

 The next morning Matthew arrived at the office a full hour earlier than was necessary. He walked through the front door, straight back to his office, and immediately switched on the computer. As he sat there waiting, it seemed to take forever for the computer to boot. When at long last the screen came to life, he clicked the ‘Get Mail’ shortcut and began to scan the list. It was third from the bottom.

Dear Doctor Mead,

As per your request, the name and address of our vet is Herman Goodman, 467 Main Street, Stuart, Florida. Doctor Goodman’s telephone number is 772-894-7867.  After you have made arrangements with him, please let me know and I will take Fluffy to his office.

She is such a sweetie, Gerald and I will be sad to see her go.

As for your generous offer of a reward, please be assured that none is necessary. Having Fluffy with us for the past month has been reward enough.

Yours truly, Jayne Rayner

A wave of guilt passed over Matthew because he knew he was taking the dog from someone who had obviously become fond of her. The guilt came and went in less than thirty seconds and before Matthew’s first appointment walked through the door, he’d spoken to Herman Goodman and made the necessary arrangements to have the dog crated and shipped to the Philadelphia airport.

Throughout the remainder of that day and for the week following, Matthew walked around with a smile stuck on his face. And as if that weren’t enough, he bought five huge red poinsettias and placed them all over the reception room. Long before the calendar was flipped over to December, he began wishing everyone he met a Merry Christmas.

“Aren’t you a little early?” Mary Ellen McNamara said, but Matthew just smiled and handed her bulldog a free chew toy.

Love…I still enjoy watching what it does to humans. And, despite my age, which is something I refuse to discuss, I’m always ready to learn new things. This experience has been an eye-opener and even though it, at times, has been a test of my patience, I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Oh, I know the logic you humans use, and more than likely you think what I’ve learned is not to mess with Life Management—wrong. What I’ve learned is how to use all this internet technology to my advantage.

For centuries I’ve been doing everything by hand, individual one on one love matches—I hover over them to make sure the male says the right thing and the female smiles the right way. Yeah, it works well, but it’s a time killer. Oh there are still going to be cases where it’s necessary, but then there are others…

On these repairs, I’ve got a plan that’s nothing short of brilliant. The Boss wants me to give them back the romance they once had and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. If this works out the way I believe it will, I might actually get to take a day off—I’m thinking maybe Christmas.

Cupid…Tis the Season

M
atthew picked up the dog at Philadelphia Airport nine days before Christmas. The fur ball arrived in a wire crate with a flannel pad on the bottom that had a price tag of $12.98 stuck to it. That was it—one small dog in need of a haircut, one pad and the wire crate—no toy, no water, no leash. Crating and shipping the dog had cost almost five hundred dollars, but Matthew had been happy to pay it. After he signed for the shipment and walked away carrying the crate, he stopped, bought a bottle of water, and asked for a paper cup. He squatted down, opened the cage door and reached for the dog. She approached him cautiously, sniffing, stopping, sniffing again then moving forward. She lapped the water and as she drank, Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small milk bone biscuit. She sniffed it then pushed it away with her nose.

“Oh, so you’re not hungry,” he laughed. “Okay then, let’s head for home.”

He scooped the dog into his right arm, hooked the fingers of his left hand onto the cage and walked out of the airport and across to the parking lot. The crate was tossed into the trunk and the dog rode in the front seat alongside Matthew.

“I’ve got a very important job for you,” he said and as he spoke the dog tipped its head to the right as if it were listening intently.
Impossible
Matthew muttered,
impossible.

That first night he took the dog back to his house, but the following morning she went with him to the Kindness Animal Clinic. Instead of assigning the job of grooming the scruffy-looking dog to Tom, the new assistant he’d hired, Matthew did it himself. In fact he spent almost all morning bathing the dog, adding a conditioner, clipping her hair and trimming her nails. Although the dog trembled when he first began to clip the knots from her hair, she soon settled down and when he wrapped her in a soft terry towel, the dog stretched her neck and began licking his hand.