Karen Whittenburg - The Matchmaker's Apprentice

“Perhaps,” Ilsa said with a smile. “Which doesn’t mean I’d have been right. The business of making matches is nothing if not subjective, Ainsley. I bring my own prejudices into it, just as you will. Despite your intentions for him, Scott fell in love with Molly. And even if, as you claim, they are too much alike to ever find a true happiness, that’s their discovery to make. You need to remember that we, as matchmakers, are merely facilitators of romance, not the judge and jury of whether or not the match will be successful. Once you’ve set the possibilities in motion, your role is to step back and observe what happens.”

Ainsley smiled for perhaps the first time since the wedding. Or rather, the non-wedding. “So do you think I should set up another introduction of possibilities and hope that this time Scott will sit down at the right table and fall in love with Shelby?”

“Absolutely not,” Ilsa said firmly. “Let your cousin work this out for himself. He will, believe me. Fortunately, as it happens, I have plenty of research to keep you busy while I’m away.”

“You’re going away?”

Ilsa’s smile held intimations of a sweet secret as she picked up a stack of files from the corner of her desk and offered them to Ainsley. “For two whole weeks. Maybe longer.”

“You’re going away?” Ainsley repeated as she took the files, the sheer weight of them telling her she could be busy putting together the necessary information for a very long time. She could hardly pretend she didn’t get the message. “By yourself?”

“James and I are taking a Mediterranean cruise. He’s managed to schedule some time off between training his replacement in Colorado and taking up his new position with Braddock Properties, so we’re stealing away for some R&R.”

“Wow,” Ainsley said, her spirits rebounding with their normal enthusiasm. “I’m impressed. Any chance you’ll put the man out of his misery and marry him before you return?”

Ilsa’s smile deepened. “You never know what might happen,” she said, then relented. “We’re having a small, family wedding before we leave.”

“Then what are you still doing here? Go home and plan a wedding.”

“What a lovely thought,” Ilsa said warmly. “I believe I’ll do just that.” She slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and came around the desk. “We’re leaving Friday, so you can reach me at home until then. After that, I’ll call you every few days just to make sure you haven’t run into any problems.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Ainsley said as they walked out together, the idea of being in charge at IF Enterprises for almost three weeks percolating with possibilities. “I can manage the office, and with all this research to do—” she indicated the file folders in her arms with a lilting shrug “—you know I’ll be too busy to even think about doing any more match-making on my own.”

“I’m counting on that,” Ilsa said, walking purposefully in the direction of the lobby.

Ainsley turned toward her own office, promising herself—and Ilsa in absentia—that she would stick to that resolve, no matter what.

Pushing the door inward with a bump of her hip, she paused for a second to appreciate the exquisite thrill she felt every time she entered this room. Her own office. And it had a view. Not so magnificent as the view of Newport Harbor that Matt saw every day through the windows of his office. Nor as pristine and pretty as Miranda’s view of the botanical garden which bordered her office, also in the Danville Foundation building, which provided untold inspiration for the landscapes and interiors she designed with such a detailed eye for color and space. Certainly not the sort of view Andrew claimed, even though he had little use for an office at all. His photography kept him outdoors or in his studio darkroom, and even Ainsley would have been hard pressed to say which he preferred.

Despite the fact that her view was blocked by another office building and showed only a sliver of sky, Ainsley had no desire to change a single thing about her office. She loved it, wall to wall, ceiling to floor, furniture, accessories, everything. She loved being able to say, “I’ll be in my office.” She liked knowing there was a place for her to go, work for her to do, somewhere she was needed and appreciated.

She liked being taken seriously, too…even if her first matchmaking attempt hadn’t done much to project that image. Ilsa didn’t seem to feel she’d permanently damaged her potential, though, so she was still on track to prove herself to her siblings. She would show them she was as serious about her career as they were about theirs. She wanted them to see her as an equal, an adult, and more than just their baby sister. As often as not, they still called her Baby, a nickname she disliked, but one that they considered affectionate and cute, despite her numerous complaints on the subject.

She’d win their respect yet, and make them proud of her…or die trying. She would.

For the time being, however, she’d concentrate on the research, just as Ilsa had asked her to do.

Ainsley’s phone buzzed and she hurried toward the desk so she could answer it. “Yes, Luce?” she said into the speaker.

“You have a guest.”

A guest. A client, maybe. Excitement bubbled up inside her. “Be right out!”

Dropping the files onto her desk, Ainsley headed for the reception area and her guest, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be Bucky. The last time he’d dropped by her office, he’d sweet-talked her into taking the rest of the day off to help him shop for his mother’s birthday gift. As if she could just come and go as she pleased. As if her job wasn’t that important. As if he wouldn’t just buy a Hermes scarf for his mother’s birthday as he’d done every year for the past four years he and Ainsley had been dating.

It was true that Bucky wasn’t particularly original in his gift selections, although no one could fault his thoughtfulness in remembering special dates. Even occasions that most men wouldn’t consider worth remembering—like the four-month anniversary of their first dance or the two-year anniversary of their first kiss—were marked in his PalmPilot.

That was one of the things she liked about Bucky. He was steady, cautious and organized—three qualities she sometimes wished she had herself. She and Bucky had things in common, of course, but it was their opposite traits, the contrasts in their personalities, that made them a good match. Maybe a lifetime match. Ainsley hadn’t exactly decided about that possibility yet.

But the man standing by the front desk chatting amiably with Lucinda wasn’t Buckingham Ellis Winston, IV.

And the thrill that went through Ainsley at the sight of him was nothing like what she felt for Bucky…or anyone else.

“Ivan!”

He turned in time to see her fly across the lobby, smiling her delight as she launched herself into his arms. “What are you doing here? When did you get into town? Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

Ivan laughed as the words poured out of her in a rush and she wrapped him in a warm and enthusiastic hug. The first time he’d met Ainsley, she’d been a cute little thing on the verge of gawky adolescence, with a handful of freckles across her nose, a mouthful of braces on her teeth and some remarkably big ideas. He’d been twenty, determined, driven and very much aware of the difference between his background and that of the Danville clan.

Unlike Matt Danville, his college roommate, who’d been destined for the Ivy League since birth, Ivan had gotten into Harvard on a wing and a prayer. And it took every dollar he could scrape together to stay there. His parents couldn’t help much at all because his younger sister’s illness had wiped out what little they’d ever managed to save. Emma had died several years ago, just shy of her twelfth birthday, but the accumulated bills still had to be paid, so Ivan applied for a combination of scholarships, grants, loans and work-study assistance, and received enough to make Harvard possible. But there wasn’t any extra money for trips home to Texas during school holidays, and even less for weekend entertainment. Ivan knew it was a fluke that he and Matt had wound up as roommates, but they’d quickly become the best of friends, providing opportunities for which Ivan would be forever grateful. Matt had invited Ivan to join him for weekends at Danfair, the Danville’s ancestral home. He’d been included in trips to their beach house on Cape Cod and treated like a member of the family on many holidays and special occasions when Matt’s parents, Charles and Linney, were home for a visit. And that was only the beginning of the opportunities he’d been given freely because of his friendship with Matt. Not the least of which was the opportunity to be Ainsley’s extra brother, as she had dubbed him from the start.