Daddy's Little Matchmakers

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. “Of course. Just a moment and I’ll put Hailey on.”

“All right,” Amy said as she wondered what was going on.

“Hello” came the voice from the answering machine message. “I, that is, we would like to place an ad. How much will that cost?”

“It depends.” Amy clicked over to the proper screen on her computer. “What sort of ad would you like to place?”

A moment of silence followed, and then the shared whispers of several other voices came across the line. Apparently this would be a group effort.

“Hello?” Amy said. “Is anyone there?”

“Yes, ma’am” came the shaky response.

“All right, then.” Amy placed her fingers on the keyboard. “First I need your full name and address so I can set up the account.” When the girl complied, Amy said, “All right, then, Hailey Wilson, go ahead and tell me what you’d like the ad to say.”

“We would like to place an ad for our daddy, Dr. Wilson.” Someone with a similar girlish voice shouted a correction. “No, I mean for someone,” the child amended.

Another voice, also quite young, added, “For someone for our daddy.”

Dr. Wilson. Amy grinned. Eric Wilson’s girls were setting him up? Interesting. She checked the caller ID. The number came up as belonging to Susan Wilson, likely the woman who answered the phone.

A squeal from the other end of the line drew Amy’s attention back to the situation at hand. “Before I can process your request, you’ll need to put your daddy on,” Amy said.

“Well, I can’t exactly do that.” A pause, this time without any background noise beyond a barking dog. “My daddy is unable to come to the phone. He just went back to work. But he’s the best daddy in the world,” she added. “He braids our hair and bakes cookies with us. He’s gonna teach me to sail someday when I’m bigger.”

Something in the sincerity in their voices softened Amy’s heart. While there wasn’t a chance she could possibly place such an ad, she’d begun to think the idea of it was the sweetest thing she’d heard all day. “I see. He sounds like a wonderful daddy. Now why don’t you put your babysitter on the phone and she can have your wonderful daddy call back when he gets home?”

“We don’t have a babysitter. Just our Grammy.”

Amy let out a long breath. This must be Susan. “Then might I speak to your grammy?”

“No, don’t do that!” was quickly followed by a crash that sounded like breaking glass. Then came a dog’s excited yip.

A scream, and then the line went dead.

Amy held on to the receiver for a moment then slowly returned it to its cradle. What had just happened?

She reached to return her computer screen to the home page and tried to shrug off the sense that something just wasn’t right. What if the elderly woman who answered the phone was in distress? Amy thought of her grandmother’s fall and how blessed she was to have neighbors who checked on her.

What if Susan Wilson had fallen and now lay helpless with only Eric’s little girls to assist? Would they know what to do? The thought sent her into action. Quickly she hit redial and listened as the phone rang repeatedly then went to an automated voice mail.

Amy jotted down the address the girl had given her and snagged her purse. If anyone in Vine Beach needed to place a classified, they’d just have to wait. Besides, what could the managing editor do, fire her? She had only a few more hours of work left, anyway.

“I’ll be right back,” Amy said as she passed Bev Calloway’s open door.

The city reporter looked up from her computer, her glasses dangling precariously on the end of her nose. “Emergency?”

“I hope not.” Amy hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. “I got a call I’d like to check out. Older lady and some kids. Heard a crash that sounded like glass breaking and now I can’t get anyone to answer.”

She thought about mentioning the identity of the woman, maybe telling Bev to call the vet clinic, then decided against it. If she was wrong, she’d look like a fool. Better to check things out first and apologize later if need be.

Bev’s dark brows rose. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. The address is just around the corner.” Her fingers found the keys. “Might want to say a little prayer, though. I’m hoping it’s nothing, but you never know.”

“Will do,” Bev called as Amy hurried out the building to her car.

A few minutes later, she made the turn and soon found herself in front of a tidy redbrick home trimmed in white and marked by a front door of glossy dark green. An empty driveway ended at a matching garage with a basketball goal hung just over the center of the double-size door.

Pulling to the curb across the street, Amy shifted the car into Park. The black mailbox at the curb had the name Wilson emblazoned in slightly mismatched alphabet stickers, the only sign of imperfection in what was an otherwise perfect abode.

Amy spied a black-and-white Springer Spaniel bounding down the driveway toward her followed in quick succession by a stair-stepped trio of fair-haired girls—the same ones she remembered from church. Eric Wilson’s daughters.

The tallest of the three carried a leash as if she might use it to lasso the spaniel while the other two, lagging behind their sister by a few paces, seemed to have assumed a supporting role in the drama. All were headed toward the street.

“Stop right there!” Amy called as she turned off the engine and fumbled for the door handle. “Do not follow that dog into the street!”

Throwing open the door, Amy jumped out and looked both ways across the empty street. Then she hurried to head off the oncoming parade of fair-haired children by snagging the dog’s collar and guiding him back onto the lawn.

“Hand me the leash, please,” she said to the eldest of the trio.

The child complied while her sisters waited at the edge of the driveway. Only after she had the animal safely corralled did Amy consider that the pup might not have taken kindly to her intervention.

After giving the dog a pat on the head, Amy glanced over at the girls who stood very still on the edge of the driveway. The little one, a vision of cuteness in some sort of princess garb complete with tiara, fidgeted with her ponytail while the middle child, Amy now noticed, held pen and paper and wore yet another outfit—this time shorts and a top—covered in flowers.

The side door opened and a familiar-looking woman with spiky silver-colored hair peered out. Apparently Susan Wilson was fine.

“Girls, where are you?” she called

“Over here, Grammy,” the little princess called. “With the lady who caught Skipper.”

“The lady who…” She met Amy’s stare. “Oh, my goodness. What is that dog doing out in the front yard?”

Amy smiled at the trim figure in white capri pants, sandals and a pale blue button-down shirt heading their way. “He was running toward the street with the girls close behind.” She offered the dog’s leash to the older woman. “I’m Amy,” she said. “Amy Spencer. I work at the Gazette.”

The grandmother gave Dr. Wilson’s girls a look of relief before she turned her attention to Amy. “Pleased to meet you, Amy Spencer. I’m Susan Wilson and these are my granddaughters. This one’s Ella. She’ll be ten soon. Then comes eight-year-old Hailey.”

“Hello, Ella and Hailey,” Amy said when the eldest girl reached to shake her hand. Hailey offered a smile but made no move forward.

“And last but certainly not least,” the vet’s mother said, “this is Brooke. She just turned five and will start big-girl school in the fall.” The little one rolled her eyes and tugged on her shorts. Apparently big-girl school was a sore subject for the youngest Wilson girl. “Say hello, Brooke,” Mrs. Wilson urged.

The little one met Amy’s gaze and grinned, showing a missing front tooth. “Hello,” she said before ducking behind her grandmother. Amy returned the greeting when the girl peered out from under the older lady’s arm.

“And of course, you’ve met Skipper.” Susan Wilson’s brown eyes twinkled. “I’d say the Lord had you in just the right spot this afternoon. Thank you for saving Skipper and the girls from what might have been a whole lot of trouble.”

“You’re welcome,” Amy said quickly. “I’m glad I could help.”

Behind her, the girls wore stricken looks. Obviously their grandmother had no idea a whole lot of trouble had already occurred.

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “Tell me, Amy, how did you come to be standing in our driveway? I thought the girls had just phoned you to—” A car sped past and the dog made to follow. “Oh, no, you don’t.” When the car had safely disappeared around the corner, Mrs. Wilson turned the leash over to the eldest of the girls. “Ella, go on and take Skipper back inside the fence. Don’t let him in the house just yet, though. I haven’t finished cleaning up the remains of that platter he knocked off the counter.”

“So that was what caused the crash I heard.”

Mrs. Wilson returned her attention to Amy as the girls reluctantly hauled the Springer Spaniel back up the driveway. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh.” Amy tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I was on the phone with the girls and I heard an awful noise that sounded like breaking glass. Of course, when I couldn’t get an answer on the phone, I hurried over to check. You see, my grandmother fell a few months ago and…” She paused.

Had she said too much? Perhaps insinuated that Mrs. Wilson wasn’t properly looking after her granddaughters?

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest and appeared to be considering something. Her smile settled Amy’s concerns. “It takes a special person to find that level of concern for children.” A pause. “And for me. I do appreciate what you’ve done today.”

“I feel a little silly,” Amy said. “And I’m terribly sorry for assuming.”

“Don’t you dare.” The older woman waved away her concerns then winked. “So, did the girls manage to place the ad before the chaos began?” When Amy told her no, Mrs. Wilson’s grin reappeared. “Come on inside and let me get my purse.”

“Mrs. Wilson,” Amy said carefully, “you do understand the girls were—”

“Playing matchmaker for their daddy?” Her smile broadened. “Yes, of course, dear. Who do you think dialed the phone for them? Now won’t you come in and let me offer you some sweet tea and a slice of pie while I write a check for whatever this ad’s going to cost?”

Chapter Three

Amy shifted her purse off her shoulder then opened it to stuff her sunglasses inside. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

Bev swiveled around in her chair to give Amy her full attention. “Other than the earth-shattering news that the Vine Beach Washateria will be slashing their prices on the Sit and Spin special? No, nothing.”

“Wow,” Amy said with a half grin. “I’m going to miss working where the big news happens.”

Shrugging, Bev pressed her glasses up a notch. “So, the classifieds emergency. How’d it turn out? Everything okay with the lady who wouldn’t answer her phone?”

Amy groaned. “Turned out there was no emergency, after all. It was a misunderstanding. Though I did meet three adorable little girls and their grandmother. Oh, and their Springer Spaniel named Skipper. Whom I saved from running headlong into Elm Street. The girls had a little help in dialing the phone, and were calling to put an ad in the paper for a wife for their father. Not a girlfriend. Their father isn’t interested in one of those. Their grandmother Susan thinks he’s afraid to move on after his wife’s death. So she paid for the ad, which will run in the next edition. I’m going to email her the receipt.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she turned toward her cubicle. “All right, then. Back to the classifieds I go to watch the phone not ring.”

“No, you don’t.” Bev followed Amy into her office and leaned against the door frame. In one hand she held a legal pad, and in the other, a pen. “You can’t just leave me like that. I’m a reporter and this sounds like quite a story. Spill it, girl.”

“Spill what?” Amy settled back into her chair.

“The dad. What’s his name?”

Amy stowed her purse in the bottom drawer. “Dr. Eric Wilson.”

“That yummy new vet?” She scribbled another note. “This just keeps getting better.”

“Yes, that’s the guy.”

“Go on. Tell me everything from the beginning.”

So she did, starting with the phone call and ending with the conversation she had over iced tea and peach pie with Susan Wilson, or “Grammy” as the girls called her. She did, however, skip the part where she’d spent a few minutes speaking to the vet in the park during her lunch hour. That, Amy decided, was off the record and definitely not pertinent to the story.

“I did get ad copy while I was there, but I’ll work longer this evening to make up for the time I was gone,” she added.

Bev waved away her statement. “You might not have realized it, but you were working, Amy. Even when you weren’t getting ad copy.”

“I was?”

“Yes, you were.” She scanned her notes then glanced back at Amy. “This is a great story. Definitely a human-interest angle.”

“It is?”

“Plus, we haven’t done anything on the new businesses in town in quite a while. What with Dr. Wilson taking over the practice, that’s newsworthy in itself. Then there’s the side story of his girls and their search for their new mama. All to draw attention to the ad, of course.” She giggled. “Why, this is practically going to write itself. What did you say the name of the Cocker Spaniel is?”

“Skipper. And he’s a Springer Spaniel.” She peered over at Bev’s notepad. “Are you really thinking about writing a story on this?”

“Why not?” Bev said. “Sure beats the article on the Sit and Spin special.”

Amy laughed. “I suppose so.”

“So, what does the ad say?”

Amy fished the paper from her purse. “‘Best daddy in the world needs a wife. Must love dogs and little girls and sailboats and want to be married forever. Ask for Dr. Eric Wilson at Wilson Vet Clinic. Tell him Daddy’s little matchmakers sent you.’” She paused to laugh at the memory of how long it took them to get the wording just right. “That’s it. The girls came up with the ad and their grandmother paid for it. Susan assured me that Eric wouldn’t mind the extra attention, what with the vet clinic being in need of new clients.”

Bev nodded. “So this could be a PR stunt.”

“I thought of that, actually,” Amy said. “But if it is, the girls and their grandmother aren’t showing any signs of it. They really appear to want Eric to find someone. Nothing more. I promise I asked a whole lot of questions before I agreed to take the ad.”

“All right, then. I’ll need a couple of quotes from you.” She waited, pen poised.

“What kind of quotes?” Amy shook her head. “Hold that thought while I put my purse away.”

“I’ll get started on the article.” Bev turned to head back down the hall. “Come into my office when you’re done and we’ll talk about it.”

For all the interest this story might generate, it seemed a bit presumptuous to think this family might want this kind of publicity. In fact, given the tragedy surrounding Dr. Wilson’s status as a widower, they might want just the opposite.

“Hey, Bev, do you really think this is worth writing about?” she called as she opened her desk drawer. “The Wilsons seem like nice people. And I haven’t even spoken to Dr. Wilson.” She paused to reconsider the statement. “At least not about the girls and this ad. Don’t you want his side of the story? To make it more balanced?”

“No need,” Bev called from around the corner. “He’s well represented by his mother and daughters. Besides, it’s the women’s point of view that really makes this interesting, don’t you think?”

“Well, okay,” Amy said slowly as she found Bev’s office and spied her jotting more notes on the almost-full page. “You’re the reporter. But I’d hate to have their personal tragedy made so public.”

Bev scribbled a second more then looked up. “Triumph over tragedy, Amy,” she said. “That is definitely worth writing about. And I promise I’ll be nice.” She shrugged. “I’ve already got the headline all planned out. Daddy’s Little Matchmakers.”

Eric Wilson slumped against the back of his chair and shook his head. “Mother, how in the world did they…”

Words escaped him. Between trying to make a success of the vet clinic and navigating the deep waters of grief over Christy’s loss, he’d obviously found precious little time to attend to the needs of the girls. Why else would they have done something so ridiculous?

And of course they would find the one woman in town who didn’t look at him as if he were the daily special at the Bachelor Buffet. He thought of Amy Spencer’s easy smile and the way he enjoyed speaking to her earlier today and stifled a groan. What must she be thinking of him now? Had his girls really called her and caused a commotion?

“Hailey mentioned that you were considering putting the boat up for sale,” his mother said, one brow lifted. “I assume one classified-ad idea led to another. Did you place yours?”

A shaft of guilt sliced at him. Perhaps he should have mentioned something about parting with the boat before making the call.

“No, I was interrupted. I’m still considering it, actually.” Eric gave his mother a level look. “But back to this ridiculous ad. Whose phone did the girls use?” he continued. “I haven’t gotten around to putting in a home phone yet.”

Eric watched a look he couldn’t quite explain cross his mother’s face. Slowly, she shrugged. “Does it matter?” He was about to answer when she continued. “By the way, Skipper got the remainder of the sandwiches so there’ll be no leftovers.” Mom chuckled. “You also need a new platter. He got that, too.”

He groaned. What next?

“It’s just about time to pick the girls up from ballet, so I should go. Please don’t be too harsh with them tonight. They love you so.” His mother reached for her car keys but made no further move to leave. “And by the way, Amy is a beautiful girl. Long blond curls and the loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen. No ring on her left hand, either.”

“Mother, seriously.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk and sighed. Even now the gaping wound of Christy’s death felt fresh. “You know I’m not interested in dating anyone. It’s just too soon, no matter what my daughters seem to think.”

“Son,” his mother said gently, “it’s been almost four years. Christy would never have wanted you to grieve so long when—”

“I can count.” Eric exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry. Coming here to take over Doc Simmons’s practice was a good move. I’ll never doubt the Lord led us to Vine Beach, and I know the girls love being back here so close to you. So do I.”

“And you know it’s an answered prayer for me, dear. This grandma’s heart was breaking with you and those girls so far away.”

Eric exhaled slowly. Leaving the home in Dallas that he’d shared with Christy had been the hardest thing he’d done since the funeral. And yet it did feel good to be with people who didn’t constantly ask him how he was doing.

“While I’m sure you’re right about why the girls and I are here, I’m also certain His immediate purpose was not to make me wealthy.” He gave his mother a second to take that in. “So, yes, I did have the paper open to the classifieds section. I figured what I could get from the sailboat would cover the bills for a few months. That ought to give God enough time to do a miracle.”

To Eric’s surprise, his mother actually laughed. “Sweetheart, do you think God needs your help doing anything, miracles or otherwise?”

“I suppose not.” His vet tech knocked then slid the door open to indicate his next patient had arrived. “But while I’m waiting for Him, the bills won’t wait for me.”

“All right.” Mom stood and clutched her purse. “But might I suggest you pray about selling that boat? I can’t help but think God has another way of filling this need.”

“I already have,” Eric said. “I suppose if He wants me to keep the boat, He’ll handle the details.”

“Oh, He’s certainly in the detail-handling business,” she said. “And just one more suggestion before I let you get back to work.”

“All right.” Eric pushed a button to activate the speakerphone then set the receiver back on the cradle and rose to reach for his lab coat.

“Your daughters didn’t call the classifieds for no reason, Eric. Amy told me they were quite specific. They wanted a wife for you, not a girlfriend. Said you weren’t interested in girlfriends. Wonder where they heard that? The comment about girlfriends, I mean.”

How many times had he responded to his girls’ pleas with that statement? And yet even now Eric could testify to the truth of it. The last thing he needed right now was a romantic relationship causing further complications in his life. If only his mother and daughters would understand this.

“Eric, look at me.” When he complied, Mother’s expression softened. “Honey, you need to let this go.” Before he could protest, her grip tightened again. “I mean it, Eric. And don’t tell me I have no idea what you’re talking about because I do. I lost my spouse, too. Not in the same way as you, but I do know what it is to lose the one you love, and you know it.”

He did. Eric nodded and covered his mother’s hand with his own.

“So let me give you some unsolicited advice. If you don’t get out there and start living again, you’re going to die inside and have nothing to offer anyone. Not your daughters or me or anyone else. Is that what you want?” She released her grip to wrap her arms around her waist. “Is this what Christy would have wanted?”

Eric’s temper sparked. “That’s not fair, Mother. You cannot know what she would have wanted, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother to try.”

“Yes, I can, Eric, and so can you. She told you she didn’t want you to grieve her.”

His heart thudded against his chest. “How did you know?”

“Because she told me,” his mother said gently. “She knew you wouldn’t listen to her, I suppose. Or maybe she wanted me to be sure of it. Anyway, Christy loved you enough to ask that you get on with your life in her memory. And that her memory didn’t consume you. She lives on through those girls, Eric. But are you really living?”

“I am,” he said with more than a little irritation in his voice.

Her expression softened. “No, sweetheart,” she said as her eyes misted with unshed tears, “you’re not.”

“Mom,” he said as he gathered her into an embrace. “Don’t. I’ll get this figured out. I promise.” He held her a moment longer then patted her back and held her at arm’s length. “For the girls’ sake, I will.”

She nodded, her eyes shining. “Would you do one more thing for me?” At Eric’s skeptical glance, his mother continued. “Hold off on selling the boat. At least for a little while. You all loved sailing, and I’d hate to see it go.”

“I would hate to see it go, as well, but I’ll do what I have to do to provide for my family.” He paused only long enough to offer his mother a smile. “However, I haven’t placed the ad yet.”

“And I hope you don’t have to.” She held up her hand to wave off any response from him. “But before any of that, you still need to speak to your daughters.”

“I plan to, Mother,” he said wearily.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Right after I call the Gazette to stop the ad then ground the girls for using your cell phone without permission.”

“It’s too late to call. The paper closes at four. And who said they didn’t have permission, Eric?” she said as she slipped out into the hall.

“Mother, come back here,” he called as he started to follow her.

“Sorry, darling,” his mother said sweetly as she waved over her shoulder. “The girls will be wondering where I am, and you’ve got patients to see.”

He cast a glance at his watch and then back at the lone file on his desk. “Patient,” Eric corrected under his breath. “At least I’ll be home early tonight, and I can sleep late.”