The Hand-Picked Bride

“Thank you, boss,” Michelle answered gravely, her green eyes and carefully coiffed auburn hair advertising her Irish heritage. “We aim to please.”

He laughed. “You aim to take over the world, and we all know it,” he teased her. “I keep thinking I’ll walk in here some morning and find out you now hold the papers on the place.”

Her smile was pleased, but she demurred. “You know I wouldn’t do that without consulting you first,” she teased back.

His answering grin faded as his thoughts took in their past together. “You’re a good friend, Michelle. You know I never would have made a success of this place without you,” he told her solemnly. “Without you and Tony giving me moral support when our dad died, I never would have taken this on. I wouldn’t have had the guts.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t exaggerate, darling,” she told him in a motherly tone. “You always had more guts than all the rest of us put together.” She shook her head when he looked about to speak and turned to another topic. “By the way,” she mentioned casually. “How is your brother these days?”

“Tony?” Grant gave a quick thought to his once irascible older sibling. “Tony, as usual, could use a life.”

Michelle flashed a smile in his direction, but she didn’t pause as she counted out the change for the cash register. “Couldn’t we all?” she murmured.

He leaned against the counter, watching her with a thoughtful frown. “No, I really mean it about Tony. You and me, Michelle, we’re not the marrying kind. We’ve been there and done that and learned to avoid it. We know how to have our fun without entanglements and commitments. But Tony...” He grimaced. “Well, he’s got the kid and all and it’s making him nutty. He’s like a mother hen these days.” His frown deepened as he remembered his brother coming to the door in an apron with huge red apples painted all over it the last time he’d appeared unannounced at his door. “Damn it all, he needs a wife.”

Michelle nodded as she filled a bin with nickels, putting them in neat stacks. “Is there anyone on the horizon right now?” she asked him.

Grant shook his head. “Naw. He doesn’t even date. His whole life is wrapped up in his daughter, Allison. Ever since Mary died...” He glanced at Michelle, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground when criticizing his brother’s response to his wife’s death two years before. “Well, for the first year or so, you could understand it. I mean, Mary was wonderful and I think, if he hadn’t had Allison to take care of, he might have died, too. You know? His life just seemed to come to a stop.”

Michelle’s green eyes clouded. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember.”

Grant nodded. “But now it’s time to move on. He needs a new woman in his life. That would turn things around, get him back in gear. If only I could find him someone...” His eyes brightened. “You know, I saw this girl the other day...” His voice trailed off as he thought of her.

Michelle looked up curiously. “What girl?”

“Hmm?” He met her gaze and realized he’d left her hanging. “Oh, this girl at the Farmers’ Market. I tried to hire her as a pastry chef but she turned me down.” He nodded slowly, thinking hard and coming to a decision. “You know, now that I think about it, she’d be perfect for Tony.”

“Who? This girl at the Farmers’ Market?”

“Why didn’t I realize this before?” He grew more excited about the idea as more details came to him. “She’s cuter than heck and she can cook and she’s got a kid, too.”

“Grant...”

He threw out his arms, amazed at how obligingly accommodating life could be. “I mean, how perfect can you get? They could have one of those...what do you call them? Blended families.”

Michelle laughed, looking as though she was tempted to give his dark hair an affectionate ruffle. Luckily she held back the impulse, but her tone was teasing. “Whoa there, pardner. Don’t you think you’re getting the cart before the horse? They haven’t even met yet and you’ve got them knitting booties together.”

He gazed at her earnestly. “What do you think, Michelle? What would happen if I tried a little matchmaking? Come on, you know Tony almost as well as I do. What do you think?”

Michelle hesitated, shaking her head as she studied his face. “I knew Tony once,” she admitted softly. “But ever since he came back from college with Mary on his arm...”

“Oh, come on. That was years ago.”

She raised a wise eyebrow. “Exactly my point.”

She began refilling saltcellars on the tables and he followed her, reaching out to open one for her. “So he got married and broke up that old gang of ours,” he murmured, handing her the empty container. “That doesn’t erase all those years growing up in the canyon and chasing each other around Lincoln Elementary.”

She turned to go to the next table, but a smile was beginning to tease the corners of her mouth.

He noted it and grinned, adding another recollection he knew she would share. “Or going to Mary Engle’s birthday party and ending up in her fishpond.”

She managed to force back her giggle but she couldn’t resist adding her own memory. “Or taking the bus down Lake Avenue from Eliot Junior High to go to the Rose Bowl Cafе for orange freezes,” she remembered reluctantly as she poured out another stream of white crystals.

He nodded his approval as he dropped into a chair right under where she was working. He had her now. He was going to need some expert female advice if he were going to match his brother up with a wife, and Michelle was the best manipulator he knew. “Or ditching high school,” he went on, adding another memory to lure her in, “piling into Tony’s old Chevy and heading down to Chavez Ravine to watch the Dodgers play in the World Series.”

“Gosh, we really did have fun in those days,” Michelle agreed, smiling broadly at last. Looking down at him, she shook her head. “Remember the beach parties at Lacuna?”

He nodded and rose, snagging a thorn-shaved white rose from the vase on the table and tucking it behind her ear. “Cruising Hollywood Boulevard with a car full of kids on a Saturday night?”

She grinned, touching the rose but leaving it where he’d put it. “Staying up all night on the sidewalk on New Year’s Eve to watch the Rose Parade?”

“And falling asleep before it came?”

They both laughed.

“The all-night gab sessions in your backyard?” he added.

“The proms at the Huntington Sheraton?” she chimed in, eyes narrowing as she remembered her slinky black velvet prom dress.

“It’s a Ritz-Carleton now.”

She frowned and waved as though to push reality away. “Don’t tell me that. I’m floating in the past.”

He sank into a chair at the table where they’d had lunch together and motioned for her to join him. “Well, float yourself over here and tell me what you think about my idea.”

She came, sliding in beside him, but her eyes didn’t smile. “To find Tony a mate?”

“Yeah.”

She looked him over with quiet affection. “If this person is so perfect, why don’t you snap her up yourself?” she asked him. “It’s about time you started getting serious again, don’t you think?”

Grant grimaced and looked away. Michelle was being very delicate and discreet. She hadn’t even mentioned Stephanie’s name. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in his family or circle of friends had mentioned her name since the divorce. Everyone assumed that the way she’d left had hurt him so badly, he couldn’t stand to be reminded. And for once, everyone was pretty much right.

Turning back, he flashed his friend a brilliant smile. “How can you say something like that? I thought you knew me better. I’m never serious.”

She covered his hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe you should be,” she suggested softly.

He shook his head. “Not now. One Fargo brother at a time. And right now, I’m working on Tony. We’ve got to get him hitched.”

Michelle sat back and rolled her eyes. “I think you’d better forget it,” she advised. “If he figures out what you’re doing, he’ll kill you.”

He waved a forefinger at her. “Ah, but that’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it? I’ll be subtle. I’ll be tactful. I’ll masterfully manipulate events. He’ll never know what I’m doing until it’s too late.”

Michelle laughed, her white teeth glistening behind the slick Persian melon lipstick that was her trademark. The thought of this open-faced man pulling the wool over his brother’s eyes boggled the mind.

But before she could explain to him just how crazy this was, she saw his eyes change and saw him start to his feet, muttering, “My God, I can’t believe it,” and she turned to see a pretty young woman picking her way through the darkened restaurant, looking nervously from one side to the other.

Grant started toward her but Michelle followed more slowly. The woman was young, probably in her late twenties, and yet she had a youthful air that made her seem years younger. She was dressed in designer jeans and a pink sweater and her hair was in braids. This had to be the pretty pastry chef, and though she hid it behind a pleasant smile, unease hovered at the back of Michelle’s eyes. Here she was, the girl Grant had earmarked for Tony. Things were moving more quickly than she could have anticipated.