The Matchmaker's Sister. Karen Whittenburg Toller

both still young, with plenty of good years ahead of us.”

      Mark looked at him sadly. “We’re on the shady side of forty, Nate. A couple more birthdays and we’ll be getting our membership cards from the AARP.”

      The American Association for Retired Persons? The official You-Are-Old membership card? Nate wasn’t even forty-five yet. Not until December, which was nearly six months away and he certainly didn’t feel that old, even if he was, technically, retired. “Whatever happened to ‘you’re only as old as you feel?’”

      “Only old people say things like that.” Mark shook his head, as if there were only rocking chairs and dentures ahead for them. “I’m afraid we’re past the age of innocence, my friend. Women like Miranda Danville see guys like us—if they even look at us at all—as father figures. Or worse, as dirty old men.”

      “Now, wait a minute,” Nate started to protest those equally unflattering images, but suddenly the name registered and he blinked in surprise. “Miranda Danville?” He repeated, looking toward the spot where he’d seen her last. “That was Miranda Danville?”

      “The one and only.”

      “But she used to date my kid brother.”

      “There ya go,” Mark said, as if that proved his point.

      And maybe it did, since Nate remembered Miranda as a long-legged coltish teenager. Which he supposed had been exactly what she was at the time. How long ago had it been? Fourteen, fifteen years? And why he remembered this one girl—out of all the girls Nick had dated—was a mystery. Maybe because Miranda had been beautiful even then. Or maybe he just remembered that summer visit so well because it had been the first time he and Angie had brought the babies home to meet their grandmother and uncle. Will and Cate were thirteen now, so it had been thirteen years. Jeez, how fast the time had gone.

      “I can’t get over running into you like this,” Mark said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s really great to see you looking so well, Nate. How long will you be home this time? Or is the real question how long Uncle Sam can run the country without you?”

      “He’s been running it without me since May.” Nate eyed the buffet table again. “I’m a civilian again.”

      “What?” Mark’s eyes widened with envy and surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re retired!”

      Nate nodded as he used a spoon to scoop some sort of rice mixture onto his plate. “Retired.”

      “Wow. Wish I could figure out a way to do that. Of course, I should have followed your example and taken the military route. Twenty years in the air force and here you are.”

      “Twenty-two years and, yes, here I am.” Nate wasn’t sure where, exactly, here was. But here he was, nonetheless. “Listen, it’s great seeing you, too. But I probably should get on through this line before the backup causes a food fight.”

      “Not enough food for that. Don’t know what happened. It isn’t like the Danvilles to skimp on the buffet. Maybe they didn’t expect such a crowd. You may not have heard that the bride left Scott at the altar last time they tried this. She ran off with some guy in a Batmobile. The family should have known everyone would turn out to see what would happen this time. Why, even you’re here.” Mark laughed. “But seriously, now that you’re back, we’re not going to let you be a stranger. Deb’s around here somewhere. I know she’ll want to say hello. Why don’t I find her and we’ll—”

      There was a long drumroll, picked up from outside where the musicians were stationed and carried throughout the house by the sound system. Nate felt a moment’s relief that it overpowered whatever plans Mark had been about to make. It wasn’t that Nate was averse to seeing old friends and renewing old friendships. He’d been looking forward to it, in fact, knew it would be easier to make a life here, where he had roots, a history.

      Angie had always planned for them to return to Rhode Island when he retired from the air force. No matter where in the world they’d been stationed, she’d worked hard to maintain the relationships they’d left behind. It was important, she’d said, that their children have a sense of home, a place where they felt they belonged. Now, especially, Nate saw the wisdom in that. The kids had never lived in Newport, had only visited from time to time, but already they were settling in as if they’d never lived anywhere else. Angie had been right about that, too…yet another example of her foresight. Nate was consistently surprised to realize just how well she’d prepared them to go on without her.

      The drumroll faded and a deep voice announced, “The bride and groom will be cutting the wedding cake out on the east veranda in a few minutes. After the toasts, Scott and Molly will share their first dance as husband and wife. Guests are encouraged to make their way to the veranda now. That’s the east veranda. Dancing will be outdoors near the pergola.”

      In the general hubbub that followed the announcement, Mark gave Nate a see-you-later clap on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd, presumably in search of Deb. Nate left the buffet line, too, and wandered back to the table where his date was waiting. “They’re going to cut the cake,” he said as he slipped into the chair beside her and placed the plate of food on the table. “Do you want to go to the east veranda and watch?”

      Charleigh Shepard was one of those women who improved with age, the years mellowing the taut angles of her elongated face and settling easily into the spareness of her body. At forty, she had looked older, but at seventy-three she had an agelessness that was both confident and benignly charming. Nate had never been able to decide if the softness had developed over the years as a natural evolution of her life experiences or if she’d cultivated the change within herself. He only knew she was his mother and that she was beautiful. Even when she allowed herself to frown…as she was doing now. “I watched the wedding,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”

      He laughed. “Now, Mother, you’re the one who wanted to come to this wedding. If you’ll recall, I suggested it would be more fun to stay home and play poker.”

      She had a way of looking at him that said more than he wanted to hear about whatever topic she wasn’t going to discuss. It was a trick he tried on a regular basis with his own children. To no effect, unless he counted the times they laughed hysterically while imitating Dad-trying-to-give-us-the-look. “Okay,” he said now, giving in without her having to say a word. “I know I said I wanted to plunge right into the social scene. And I do. I just wanted another month to anticipate it.”

      “You’ve had a month,” she replied tartly. “And the only thing you’ve done is putter around the house and aggravate the children. And me.”

      “That’s not true. The kids always act that way. So do you, for that matter. And I’ve been fixing up the house and…and…” He warmed to his defense. “I’ve bought a building near the harbor that I’m going to renovate into a coffee bar. And I signed up to run for a seat on the city council. If that’s not plunging into life in the community, I don’t know what is.”

      Charleigh sniffed, unimpressed. “At the rate your campaign is progressing, Nathaniel, even I won’t vote for you. For heaven’s sake, look around. Here you are at a wedding, surrounded by potential supporters, and if you’ve shaken one hand, I’ll eat my hat.”

      “It would probably taste better than that rice,” he said. “And on the contrary, I have shaken hands. With Mark Olivant. Over by the buffet table. You remember Mark?”

      “Of course I remember Mark. I also remember that he lives in Jamestown, not in Newport, not in our ward, and he will not be voting in our city elections in November.”

      Nate frowned, undaunted by his mother’s chiding. “Jamestown, huh? Well, I won’t be shaking his hand again. Can’t waste perfectly good handshakes on nonvoters.”

      Charleigh’s smile was affectionate, if slightly reluctant. “It’s good to have you home, son. Nicky isn’t quite the source of entertainment you’ve always been.”

      “That’s because he