During her lunch hour on Tuesday, Charlene stopped into the ladies' room and checked her hair and makeup. She looked fine. She stared at her face. Not exactly beauty queen material. She didn't have blonde hair. She didn't have blue eyes. She didn't have a skinny little body. She was tall and awkward. Not to mention the fact that b.u.t.ton-up-the-front blouses always gapped across her chest.

Good thing the sweater she'd worn today didn't have b.u.t.tons, just a relatively demure neckline. But still the sweater had drawn any number of glances from male pet owners. So much so that, after her ten o'clock appointment with Roy Burdett and his hound dog, she'd b.u.t.toned her white lab coat all the way to her neck.

But here she was unb.u.t.toning it again and wondering if Dr. Dave would even notice.

It was now or never. Angel Menendez had called this morning thanking her for stiff-arming Cousin Drew into the bachelor auction. Then he reminded her that she was still on the hook for delivering a few more bachelors. So she figured she might as well get busy and ask Dr. Dave first.

She headed toward her boss's office and caught him at his desk reviewing financial statements. A bookkeeper came in twice a month to do the essentials, but Dave spent too much time on administrative stuff like this. Charlene and Cindy had told him a few times that he needed an office administrator, but he'd been resistant.

"Hi," she said as she arrived at his doorway.

He looked up with his brilliant blue eyes. His black hair fell over his forehead and every rational thought in Charlene's head evaporated. How did he manage to make his hair do that little Superman curl? He was stunning. Gorgeous even.

He cleared his throat. "Is something up? How are George Nelson's cows?"

"Uh, they're recovering, and he's sanitized his milking equipment." She ventured a few more steps into his office and got as far as the side chair. She grabbed hold of the chair back, suddenly conscious of her sweaty palms. "I was wondering"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sure you know that AARC is planning this fund-raiser for June fourteenth and"

A smile touched his perfect mouth. "Charlene, are you trying to ask me if I would agree to be auctioned off?"

Heat flamed up her cheeks. "Um, yeah, I guess." She paused for a horrible moment and then rushed ahead. "You see, it's for a good cause. You know that this plan of County Executive Hayden's is going to result in more animals being euthanized. And our bachelors are only committing to dinner with whoever buys them. And I know-"

He held up his hand, palm outward. "Stop. I'll do it."

"You will?"

"Only if you promise to buy me." He flashed his perfect dimple.

Good thing she was holding the chair back in a vise grip, because she experienced a dizzy moment and her knees almost gave out. "You want me to buy you? Really?" The words popped right out of her mouth before she could think about them. If she had taken a moment to actually think, those were not the words she would have said. She probably would have said something along the lines of "Of course I will. Where do you want to go to dinner?" But no, she didn't say that. She said the first stupid thing that crossed her mind.

Dave studied her for a moment, carefully avoiding any glances at her chest, and said, "I suppose you're right. That might be a bad idea."

"What's a bad idea? You being auctioned or me buying you and then" There was no good place for this sentence to go, so she just shut up.

"Charlene, I'm happy to partic.i.p.ate as one of the bachelors. But you're absolutely right. It would be a mistake for you to bid on me, since you're my employee and all. It would look odd, you know? Inappropriate. I didn't mean to suggest that at all. It's just that well I'm a little shy. But you should certainly not bid on me."

What the h.e.l.l. Shy was not the word Charlene would have used. Dr. Dave was living the life of a freaking monk, probably because he was so scrupulously scrupled. Or maybe it was because he was a member of Calvary Baptist.

She needed to retreat before she did any more damage. "Thanks, Dave. The fund-raising committee will be thrilled to have you sign up. I'll email you the forms."

"You do that."

She stood there for a moment feasting her eyes on his beauty and mentally kicking herself for being such a dolt until he gave her the oddest look. Like he might be wondering if she'd lost her mind or something. Which she had. She turned and ran all the way to her office, where she closed the door and fired up her cell phone.

"I blew it," she semiwailed when Amanda answered her call.

"Blew what? Honey, are you all right?"

"I went into Dave's office and asked him to be one of the bachelors in the auction. And he said yes."

"That's good, I guess." Amanda didn't actually sound overjoyed by this news.

"You guess? Of course it's good."

"All right, it's good. So how did you blow it?"

"He said something about how he'd do it if I promised to buy him. And then I got all surprised. And he immediately backed off. And then he told me that he would partic.i.p.ate but only if I promised not to bid on him. Since that would be unethical or something because he's my boss, you know? d.a.m.n, I'm such a dolt."

Amanda said nothing on the other end of the line for a long moment.

"Are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"How am I going to fix this?"

Another long silence stretched out before Amanda spoke again. "Charlene, honey, I have something I need to say. And I think you aren't going to like it. But I just want you to remember how you told me the truth that day last summer when I met Grant. You remember what you said?"

"No, not really."

"Well, you told me exactly what I needed to hear. So I'm going to return the favor. I'm not trying to be ugly, but it's high time you gave up this crush you have on Dr. Dave."

"But he's perfect, aside from the fact that he's my boss."

"Right. Charlene, he's too perfect, if you know what I mean."

"Too perfect? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's gay. Deep-in-the-closet gay."

"No. How can that be? He belongs to Calvary Baptist."

"I know, it's strange. But I'd stake my life on it. I knew it the moment I met him."

"You're wrong, Amanda. You have to be." Although a little piece of her mind started making connections to the fact that Dave had never, ever ogled her b.o.o.bs. Or any other part of her body. And even devout Baptists like Jimmy Carter had been known to l.u.s.t in their hearts from time to time.

"I'm not wrong," Amanda said. "And I'm just a little bit worried that he might be one of those guys who try to deny it. You know, the guy who gets married even though he knows he's not straight. I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't put my foot down and tell you what I thought. You need to give up on Dr. Dave and find someone else. And this auction may be just the thing you need. There will be a whole boatload of single men to choose from."

"But I don't want a boatload of single men. I want Dave."

"Yes, Charlene, I know. Everyone in town knows. But Dr. Dave is never going to want you back. And at the risk of making you angry, I need to say something else you need to hear. You have a knack for picking guys who aren't emotionally available. You seem to think you can fix them or something. It's time you found a guy without a boatload of baggage."

Amanda's words stunned Charlene so badly that she pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the off b.u.t.ton. It was the first time, ever, that she'd hung up on her best friend.

CHAPTER.

10.

On Tuesday afternoon, after the markets closed, Mike went off in search of Miriam Randall. It didn't take him more than five minutes at Lovett's Hardware to discover the whereabouts of the mysterious matchmaker. The manager there, a big guy named Clay, was a font of information.

Mrs. Randall's house turned out to be a big, sprawling Victorian that was undergoing a major restoration. Its foundation sat on lolly columns, construction materials littered the lawn, and one side of the house was encased in a scaffold. A shirtless man perched up there, diligently sc.r.a.ping away dozens of layers of paint.

"Is this Miriam Randall's house?" Mike called up to him.

The man stopped sc.r.a.ping and stared down at Mike, his eyes shaded by a Houston Astros baseball cap. "Yep." He put down his sc.r.a.per and descended. "I'm her nephew, Dash. You're that guy everyone in town is talking about, aren't you?"

"I have no clue about the gossip in town," Mike said, extending his hand. "I'm Mike Taggart. I understand your aunt is the town matchmaker."

Dash had an easy face to read. And right now the tiny smirk at the corners of his mouth made Mike wonder if he'd become the victim of a small-town prank. Dash cleared his throat. "Uh, you here for a professional consultation?"

Mike forced himself into his poker mode. "I am." His voice came out neutral.

"Really?" Dash's eyebrows rose. Clearly Mike's response had surprised the c.r.a.p out of him.

"Is Mrs. Randall in?"

Dash tipped his hat back. "Yeah, she's in. I'll see if she's interested in visiting with anyone."

Just then a little old lady came through the front door, leaning on an aluminum cane. She had white hair piled up on her head in a couple of braids. She peered at them through a pair of rhinestone-studded gla.s.ses that looked as if they came right out of the 1950s. She wore baggy khakis and a purple T-shirt with a photo of a fluffy white cat on the front. "Dash, honey," she said with a scowl, "quit being ugly and invite the man up here. I've been expecting him."

"Well, I'll be," Dash said, shaking his head. "Guess it's your lucky day. You do know that once she matches you up, you're done for, right?"

Mike didn't respond to this rhetorical question. Instead, he strode across the weedy yard and up onto the porch. "I'm Mike Taggart," he said, extending his hand toward the little old lady.

Miriam gave him a surprisingly firm shake. Her hand felt cool and dry. "I'm Miriam. Have a seat," she said, gesturing to one of the ladder-back porch rockers. "I do most of my consultations out here on the porch."

Thank goodness. After what Flo had told him, Mike had expected Miriam to lead him into a darkened room where she would consult her crystal ball. Not that he believed in any of that fortune-telling c.r.a.p. But he knew one overriding truth: people were capable of believing anything, even stuff that was patently untrue or impossible. Emotions always trumped rationality. And a good gambler could use this to his benefit. If he played his cards right.

He took a seat in one of the rockers. "So you've been expecting me, huh?" he asked.

She sat down in a facing chair. She gave the appearance of being a sweet, harmless old lady. But that was a mask for something else. He got the feeling that this woman could con anyone.

"I have been," she said. "You might be surprised to know that I've been expecting you for quite some time."

"Then you know I'm here to see about finding a wife for my brother, Timmy. You'd know him as Reverend Lake, the Methodist minister. I was thinking that Charlene Polk would be perfect for him. But I'm at a loss as to how to get the two of them together."

Mrs. Randall turned away, casting her gaze toward the trees that screened the house from the sidewalk. She didn't say anything for a long, long time, and Mike wondered if she'd fallen asleep or something. Or maybe she had a wandering mind.

He was about to repeat his request when she turned back toward him and said, "So what makes you think Charlene Polk would be a good match for Pastor Tim?"

"I don't know, exactly. She seems like a nice person, and Tim needs a nice person." Had he ever said anything more lame? Probably not.

The old woman stared at him for another interminable moment, conveying the feeling that she could pierce even his emotional mask. He sure didn't ever want to face this woman across a poker table.

"Uh," he stammered, "and she's nice looking and has a great" He didn't finish the sentence because telling the old woman that he admired Charlene's rack seemed way off topic.

"Yes, she most certainly does, doesn't she?" Mrs. Randall said, her dark black eyes sparking behind her trifocals.

"Yes, ma'am." He found himself nodding.

"Son, I'm sorry, but my matchmaking doesn't work exactly like you might think. I'm not like that character Barbra Streisand played in h.e.l.lo, Dolly! I don't send people off on dates. And I'm sure not like those Internet places where people fill out personality questionnaires to find their compatible mates. I think love is more magical than that, don't you?"

"Uh, well" He leaned back in his rocker and tried to relax. "I guess, um to be honest, Mrs. Randall, I've never really thought all that much about it. I've never been in love."

"I'm not surprised," she said, staring off into s.p.a.ce again.

"So, can you help me? It's real important that I find the right wife for Timmy because, whoever she is, she's going to become my niece's mother. You see, my sister was killed a few weeks ago, and I need to find a good home for my niece. I want her to grow up in a family with both a mom and a dad. You see, Charlene and Rainbow-that's my niece-have kind of bonded. I think she'd make a great mother."

"I'm sure Charlene would make a great mother. She's a big-hearted woman."

"That's good. I think every minister should have a big-hearted woman as a wife. Don't you?"

Mrs. Randall drummed her k.n.o.bby-jointed fingers on the armrest of her rocking chair, while her brow wrinkled in thought. He took this as a positive sign.

"Son, are you an animal lover?"

"Uh, well, no, not especially. Does this have anything to do with Timmy and Charlene?"

She gave him a myopic kind of look and flashed her dentures. "That's a shame, really. Because the Allenberg Animal Rescue Council is hosting a man auction coming up on June fourteenth."

"I heard something about that from Flo. But what does this event have to do with Charlene and Timmy?"

"I'm just an old girl, you know, but I gather this auction is a newfangled fund-raising thing. AARC is asking single men to volunteer to be auctioned off. The proceeds of the auction go to funding AARC's efforts to keep our animal shelter going."

"So you think I should encourage Tim to be part of the auction? And then I could encourage Charlene to buy him?"

She shook her head. "I didn't say that. I'm just pointing out that a lot of interesting things could happen at an auction like that. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and I'd say that having a man auction in our town is a pretty significant event. It gives us an opportunity to help the Lord with his plans. You know?"

No, he didn't know. "The Lord has plans?"

"He most definitely does. And I can tell you right now that Pastor Lake is probably going to end up with someone in the medical profession."

"Really? That's great news."