Page 21 of Never Been Matched
So, Graham is reclusive and kind of an asshole. Great.
Was Beverly a terrible matchmaker? Is that why she still has a list of leftover names?
There has to be more to this whole thing.
I flip the pages over, like different words will magically appear.
But that’s it. There’s nothing else.
What do I do? I don’t even know where to start. I can’t ask Spencer for help. Maybe Quinn? Or this Daphne person who’s been running the theater? Maybe she will have an inkling of how the hell I’m supposed to get a signed copy of Graham Deadwyler’s first book. From him. Where does he even live?
I guess I’m going to have to figure it out. I swallow back a wave of overwhelming anxiety and fear. Will I even be able to do this? What if I can’t? Will I have to move back to Boston?
The thought is depressing. And lonely.
I showered last night, so it only takes a few minutes to brush my hair and dress in dark jeans, boots, and a cashmere sweater. I slap on a layer of mascara and some lip gloss, and I’m ready.
After shoving the theater key into my pocket along with my barely charged phone, I head downstairs.
Spencer is already in his coat, talking to Quinn at her smaller desk across from his.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks when he spots me.
“Yeah.”
We say goodbye to Quinn.
The sun is out, bright and sharp against the snow. The air is still frigid, sneaking through my jacket.
Spencer’s old 4Runner warms up outside, cleared of snow except for a thin crust clinging to the wipers.
He opens the car door for me. “I tried calling Moe a minute ago, and he’s not answering, so I thought we could stop by the shop first and see what he says.”
“Sounds good.”
The mechanic’s office smells like motor oil and burnt coffee. Moe scribbles my name on a work order and then adds it to a stack of smudged papers. He promises to take a look at my car that afternoon and call with an update.
A few minutes later, we’re back on the road.
The drive through town to the theater is short. The snow has been plowed and stacked up along the side of the road. People are shoveling the sidewalks in front of Brewed Awakening and Betty’s Diner.
One of them waves at Spencer as we pass. He lifts two fingers off the steering wheel in return.
“You okay if I drop you off?” he asks, coming to a stop in front of the theater. “Daphne should be here soon. I’ve got a few errands to run, and I want to swing by the farmhouse to check it out, make sure there wasn’t any storm damage before I call to get the power restored.”
“Okay. That sounds good.” I unclick my seat belt.
“Quinn’s going to call the inn and book you a room until the house is ready. If you need a ride anywhere, call the office. Either Quinn or I can get you where you need to go.” He pauses. “Fair warning, since you’ve never met her, Daphne is very high-energy.”
High-energy? “What does that mean?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not a bad thing. She has five older brothers.”
“Impressive.” It really is. I barely survived my childhood dealing with two boys, let alone five.
“She had to learn how to be loud to be heard over the chaos. She’s very direct, but she’s also hilarious.”
I smile. “Good to know. Do you have any siblings?”
