Cupid's Daughter (Cupid's Daughter #1) Page 5

  I shrugged. "I don't know." I paused, scratching at my ankle. "I mean, love has to be a factor if you're going to get married, right? I mean, assuming it's not a sham marriage, at least."

  "Was there an affair?"

  "I don't know," I said. "Maybe. Maybe not. If there was, nobody said anything."

  "But if there had been one, she would have said something, right? I mean, it's totally grounds for divorce."

  "Yeah, it is," I agreed. "But if she didn't have any proof, she probably figured it wouldn't be worth bringing it up. She made out pretty good regardless."

  Fiona leaned forward, perching her chin on the back of her hands. "How good?"

  "Okay, well, there's a little thing called client-attorney confidentiality," I said.

  "I figured by this point we had just thrown that out the window."

  I paused and then said, "Let's just say she wouldn't have made out any better if Mr. Draper had been cheating, okay?"

  Fiona stretched back in her chair. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, Emma."

  I frowned. "That's not very helpful.”

  "I don't know." She shrugged. "You don't want to help them anyway, right?"

  "Technically I already helped them," I said.

  "You did."

  "I mean, they wanted a divorce," I said. "And I helped them get that."

  "That you did."

  "I've done my part for this couple."

  "Absolutely."

  "I don't need to do anything else." I was warming up to this theme now. It helped to have a cheerleader to ease me along. "I don't care what my Dad says about fate. I laugh at fate."

  "You give fate a hearty laugh in the face." Fiona paused. "Wait, your dad actually said something about fate? With a straight face?"

  "He's kind of big on it."

  "Really?"

  "Really." I shrugged. "It goes with the job, I guess."

  "You know," Fiona said after a moment of staring at her latte. "I could really help you with this if I knew all the facts."

  "What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" I asked.

  "Well, you've left off the juicy details about why you're so eager not to follow in your father's footsteps. I sense there's a story there."

  "The story there has nothing to do with the story here."

  Fiona just looked at me, unconvinced.

  "It doesn't," I said resolutely. "It should be enough that I don't want to go back to the family business."

  "Which means you were involved with the family business at some point in the past," Fiona said, tapping her finger against her lips. "When would that have been? We were pretty much attached to the hip in college, so it wasn't then. Or was it?"

  I got to my feet. "Look at the time."

  "Oh, come on," Fiona said. "It can't be that bad."

  "Seriously," I said. I would avoid this topic for as long as I possibly could. Forever, really, sounded like a good amount of time. "I have to go. Dinner with the parents."

  Fiona shouted after me as I zoomed towards the parking lot, "I'll find out the truth! I will!"

  I had no doubt that Fiona would find out the story behind my desire not to get back into the family business. And I had no doubt that I'd be the one who ended up telling her, even though I really didn't want to. She was good like that. Real good. I think that she maybe missed her calling as an interrogator.

  Regardless, I wasn't going to make it easy for her.

  Chapter Eight

  In the lobby of my parent's apartment building I ran into my brother.

  Although he was three years older than me, Luke had the kind of baby face features that made him look like he was still in his teens. He was a little taller than me, but only by a few inches or so. His hair was black and short. When he smiled it was always goofy.

  "Hey, sis," he said, spotting me as I entered the lobby. "Guess you heard they're back early."

  Hugging him, I replied, "Yeah, Dad came by my office this morning to announce their return in person."

  "Oh."

  I could tell from the look on Luke's face that he knew the cruise wasn't all Dad and I had discussed.

  I held up both hands. "Hey, I'm totally against the idea."

  "You shouldn't be," Luke said, pushing the call button for the elevator. "I'm terrible at this job."

  "You're not that bad," I said like a good sister was supposed to. "Everybody has an off day every now and then."

  "Have you actually heard the whole story?" he asked.

  "I've heard bits and pieces," I said. "And by bits and pieces I mean that I caught a few minutes of the morning news and I've seen the front page of the New York Post a couple of times. I have not, however, actually cracked open the New York Post, because, you know, it's the New York Post."

  "Well, it was pretty bad," Luke said.

  "The picture certainly suggested that. How exactly do you end up with that much whipped cream outside of a weird food fetish club?"

  Luke shook his head. "You don't want to know."

  "I don't?"

  "You really don't," Luke insisted. He shuddered. Well, that couldn't be good. I started to think that maybe I needed to read the whole article...

  "And this thing with the singer is only the latest in a string of disaster matchmakings," Luke continued. "Last month, we had this long distance relationship, she was in California, he was here in New York. I set it up so that they'd meet for the first time in the middle at this little bed and breakfast just outside South Haven, Michigan."

  "Sounds romantic."

  "Yeah. It would have been," Luke said, "if I hadn't messed up the flights, sending him to Alaska and sending her to Hawaii."

  "Oh, Luke..." I muttered.

  "He caught pneumonia and she ended up with a broken leg," Luke finished. "It's going to be at least another month before we can try and match them again."

  "A broken leg?"

  He shook his head. "Trust me, that's another one you really don't want to know, but suffice to say, it was probably my fault, too." Luke sighed. "But that was nothing compared to this singer." He banged his head against the elevator doors. "It's like a nightmare that never ends. Every time I think that it's gotten as bad as it's going to get, it gets worse. Her manager has left me a voicemail every hour since the story broke this morning."

  "Why?"

  "Because I won't answer my phone when he calls," Luke replied.

  "No, I mean, how does the manager even know that you're involved?"

  "Because the singer came to us for the match," Luke moaned. "She met this guy at one of her concerts and it was love at first sight from across the crowded dance floor."

  "Oh, no."

  "Yeah. If the manager knows that his client was our client..."

  "That means it could go public and end up being a publicity nightmare for Cupid, Inc," I finished.

  He looked at me. "So, yeah. You coming back wouldn't be that bad of an idea."

  I shook my head. "No, thank you. Not after that sales pitch."

  The elevator arrived and the doors open. We got on and I pushed the button for the twentieth floor.

  "Why did Dad even let you handle such a high profile client?" I asked.

  "Okay, well, first, thank you for the vote of confidence."

  "That's not what I meant."

  Luke shook his head. "No. I know what you meant. I thought the same thing." He sighed. "Dad's been trying super hard to get me better at this."

  I frowned, feeling bad for my older brother. He looked so sad, leaning there against the elevator wall.

  "I'm a horrible Cupid," he said.

  "You're not a horrible Cupid."

  "Read the article in the New York Post and then get back to me."

  I tried to change the subject. "Well, it's not the singer that Dad wants me back for."

  Luke gave a knowing nod. "Yeah. We know all about the Drapers."

  I did a double take. "Excuse me?"

  "They're former clients," Luke said. />
  "Wait, what? From the website?"

  Luke shook his head. "Dad matched them thirty years ago, right before he took over from Grandpa."

  I know that my jaw didn't actually hit the floor of the elevator, but it sure felt like it. "Dad matched them?"

  "Yep."

  "I don't believe this."

  "Believe it."

  "This is rich." I shook my head. "Basically, I'm cleaning up Dad's mess. I mean, that's what he wants me to do."

  "Well, it's not that simple," Luke said. "As soon as I heard about the divorce, I pulled up their file. Their compatibility rating was a ninety-five."

  If my jaw could have dropped to the floor again, it would have.

  "A ninety-five? This just keeps getting better."

  Compatibility ratings were never that high. Well, they were rarely that high. A rating like that meant that the couple was basically made for each other. Despite what the world would have you think about True Love, that wasn't always the case. The average compatibility rating was in the seventies. Over time, after being together for years, that rating eventually works it's way up to one hundred. But a rating that high right off the bat? Almost completely unheard of.

  Something in the nineties, there shouldn't have been any problems. The Drapers should have fit together like a two puzzle pieces and lived happily ever after. Instead, thirty years later, they got a divorce.

  "What happened?"

  Luke shrugged. "We're not sure. I mean, our file on them really only covers the initial matchmaking and courtship. After that, they were on their own. At least, that was the case before they popped up in your office."

  "So Dad knew about the divorce?"

  Luke nodded.

  "Then why didn't he do something before the divorce actually went through?"

  "Why does Dad ever do anything?

  I shook my head. "This is unbelievable." Chewing on my lower lip, I said, "Maybe Dad made a mistake thirty years ago?"

  "Not with a ninety-five," Luke said.

  I sighed. "Well, I'm not doing it. I mean, there's a reason I didn't get into the family business."

  "Emma..."

  I held up a hand. "Nope. Not gonna happen. Find somebody else."

  "There is nobody else."

  "What do you mean there's nobody else?"

  "Exactly what I said."

  "Well, there's Sarah," I said. "Why doesn't Dad drag her back from Hong Kong. She loves to clean up messes."

  Luke scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, like that's ever going to happen."

  "There are other matchmakers in the office," I said.

  "There are matchmakers," Luke said. "And then there's matchmakers."

  I shook my head. "Oh, don't give me that spiel."

  "We can train somebody, but they don't have the natural gift our family has," Luke sounded like he was reciting the back of a recruitment brochure.

  "Well, that's not my problem." I folded my arms and watched as the elevator approached the twentieth floor. "I'm not doing it and there's nothing that's going to change my mind."

  Chapter Nine

  Dinner with my parents hadn't changed much. Growing up in a homeschooling environment, everything was, as my Dad was fond of saying, a teachable moment. Dinnertime was the news time of our family's day. We would gather around the table every night and between mouthfuls, recount what we had learned that day or what interesting bits of news had crossed our paths. Now, Luke and I were older, and Sarah was absent, but the general atmosphere was still the same as it had been back then. Everything was still a teachable moment, unfortunately, no matter how old you got.

  Which meant that the first hour of dinner was my Mom explaining to Luke and I the detailed minutia of cruise ships and maritime law. At least, I think it was only the first hour. I might have nodded off at some point. I've been known to fall asleep with my eyes open. It's only happened once or twice, but in terms of dinner party tricks, it's kind of an embarrassing one.

  Mom finally paused to eat her dinner before it got too cold. I took that opportunity to steer the conversation away from the teachable moment. Also, I wasn't sure, but there was the real possibility that if my Mom was left unchecked, she would have pulled out the dry erase board. Old teaching habits die hard, and Mom had a love affair with writing things out in bright red markers for her children. It really didn't matter what the topic was, she just really enjoyed writing it on that board.

  "I still can't believe you guys went on a cruise." Shaking my head, I looked at Luke. "Do you remember when Mom would get seasick just from watching Jaws?"

  "Yeah," Luke said. "That was a memorable movie going experience. I still can't watch Jaws without hearing Mom vomiting."

  I snorted a laugh. "What about when we went to go see Titanic? Mom had to run out of the theater during the big crash scene."

  "The theater attendants were super confused as to why Mom was hurling into the trashcan and not sobbing away with everybody else." Luke smiled.

  "Okay, well, that's enough embarrassing memories about me," Mom said. She was only a few years younger than my Dad and had adopted a strict policy of only honesty. Which, of course, made for an interesting childhood and a stressful adulthood.

  "Well, to be fair, it really didn't make sense that you would go on a cruise," I said. "I mean, Jaws? Titanic?"

  "I'll have you know that the first leg of the cruise passed without any incident," Mom said.

  "Mostly," Dad interjected.

  "Michael..." Mom warned.

  "Your Mother did get horribly seasick," Dad said. "I think she even turned green at one point."

  "I did not turn green," Mom assured my brother and I.

  Dad shook his head. "She's only saying that because she wasn't in front of a mirror at the time. She definitely turned green."

  "It was only one day at sea when I didn't feel quite comfortable," Mom gave in. Her hair had never gone grey. For the longest time I marveled over that fact. I took comfort in it, whenever I thought about how early Dad went grey. I thought, hey it won't be all bad. There's a fifty percent chance I got some of Mom's hair genes.

  It was a sad, sad day when I found out that she'd been dying it black since my sixteenth birthday. Very sad.

  "What your mother is trying to say," Dad interrupted again, "is that she vomited."

  "Michael," she chastised him, lightly smacking his hand.

  "Well, they were going to find out eventually," Dad said.

  "No, they weren't."

  "Of course they were. I was going to mention it when you got up to clear the table." Dad smiled.

  Mom looked at him like he was a dog that had grabbed the turkey from the table, but I could see amusement in her eyes.

  I swear, I was never going to understand my parents.

  Luke dug into his mashed potatoes. "Dad said you guys didn't get to do any excursions?"

  "No," Mom replied with a tired sigh. "Your father was too afraid the boat was going to leave without us."

  "It was a legitimate fear," Dad argued. "We were only there for a few hours."

  "Almost eight hours was hardly a few hours."

  "How am I supposed to experience anything with the threat of being abandoned on some island?" Dad asked us. "Tell me. Please. It was a perfectly normal reaction."

  "So instead of excursions we got to see all the colorful locals at the dock," Mom continued. "And a nice black gentleman offered me Ecstasy."

  I stared at my mother. "Someone offered to sell you drugs?"

  "That's right," Mom said. "Instead of climbing the waterfalls, I was offered drugs. That seems like a reasonable tradeoff, doesn't it?"

  "My favorite part was when they unfolded my napkin for me at dinnertime," Dad chimed in.

  "That's because you're horribly lazy, dear," Mom said.

  Luke and I looked each other, suppressing the urge to laugh at our parents.

  "But enough about our cruise," Mom said.

  Dad frowned. "We haven't told them about
the shows yet."

  "We can talk about that later. Right now I would like to hear from my children. You know, it's not polite when two people dominate the entire conversation." Mom helped herself to the wine. "Emma, whatever happened to that nice cop you were seeing? I believe his name was Brad?"

  I twisted uncomfortably in my seat. I should have seen that one coming.

  "Burt," I corrected her. "His name was Burt."

  Mom paused. "Are you sure? I could have sworn it was Brad."

  "No, it was definitely Burt."

  "Huh." Mom nodded absently. "He seemed like a Brad."

  "Well, he wasn't."

  "And...?" She let the question just hang there. That was Mom's way. She figured that she'd get more details out of her children if she kept her questions as vague and broad as possible. Something about giving us enough rope to hang ourselves, I think?

  I just shook my head, determined not to fall into familiar traps. "I don't think it's really anything." I tried to sound casual and indifferent about him. Which wasn't too hard, because I was casual and indifferent about him. Early morning voicemails notwithstanding.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Mom asked.

  "It means that we've only been on a few dates and it's hardly that big of a deal." Why was this about me? Why weren't they picking on Luke? I mean, Luke was the one that botched up the singer's matchmaking. That should have been a lot juicier than Brad the cop.

  Burt. Burt the cop.

  Great. Now they've got me thinking his name was Brad.

  "So, you don't think it's going to work out?" Mom asked. There was some heavy disappoint in her voice.

  I shrugged and offered a noncommittal noise. I was trying to quickly come up with another topic to switch us to. I looked at Dad but suddenly he was very interested in his chicken. Nice.

  "I thought he seemed rather pleasant," Mom continued. "What happened? Was it because he was a cop?"

  "It was just a couple of dates, Mom." How was it that my Dad was Cupid and it's always been my Mom grilling me about my love life? Does that seem right? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

  But, of course it wasn't. I'm pretty sure there are universal constants and mothers always being more interested in their daughter's love lives than their fathers just happens to be one of those constants. Even when your Dad was the master of true love and matchmaking. "It was just a couple of dates. He just wasn't that interesting."