This Matter Of Marriage. Debbie Macomber

the bicycle pedals.

      “Hi,” she called. “My dad just moved next door.” She stopped abruptly and hopped off the polished chrome bike.

      “So I saw,” Hallie said, leaning across the front seat and removing her bags of groceries.

      “I’m Meagan. That’s my brother, Kenny.” She nodded toward the younger boy, and as if on cue, Kenny joined his sister.

      “You got any kids?” Kenny asked hopefully.

      “Sorry, no.” She balanced both grocery bags in her arms.

      Some of the enthusiasm left the boy’s eyes. “Do you know anyone around here who does?”

      “Unfortunately, I don’t think there are any kids your age on this block.” Most of the couples who’d moved into the complex were just starting out. Hallie suspected there’d be any number of children in the neighborhood within a few years, but not now.

      “Here,” Meagan said, tilting her bike onto the grass. “I can help you carry those in.” She took one bag out of Hallie’s hands.

      “Thanks.” Hallie was touched by her thoughtfulness and said so.

      The girl beamed at the praise. “Mom says I’m a big help to her now that she and Dad are divorced.”

      Meagan’s expression grew sad when she mentioned the divorce. Hallie’s heart immediately went out to her—but she couldn’t help musing that her new neighbor was available, after all. It was an automatic reaction, triggered by her newly activated husband-seeking instincts.

      Hallie briefly recalled her first impressions of him and decided then and there that she wanted someone with a bit more…finesse. A guy who drove a truck with a license-plate holder advertising his big tools didn’t overly impress her. It wasn’t only that, either; she’d seen what the movers had carted into his house. Sports equipment. Boxes and boxes of it. There didn’t seem to be anything this guy hadn’t tried. From mountain climbing to kayaking to scuba diving.

      Hallie led the way into the kitchen, where she dumped her sack on the countertop. Meagan carefully put hers beside it. “Thanks again, Meagan.”

      “Are you married?” the girl asked.

      “Not yet.” But there were visions of entwined wedding rings dancing around in her head. She had a prospect, too. A man she’d just met yesterday, as a matter of fact.

      “Well, gotta go have lunch. See you next weekend,” Meagan said, rushing for the front door.

      As Hallie started to put the groceries away, she saw that the message light on her answering machine was blinking. Probably her mother again, or her sister, Julie, calling to report on baby Ellen’s latest adorable exploit. But what if it was him? Him being the new loans officer at Keystone Bank. Hallie had gone in on Friday afternoon to make her deposits and been introduced to John Franklin.

      The minute she’d laid eyes on him she realized he was everything she sought in a husband. Tall, dark and handsome. Friendly, polite and clearly intelligent. He met all the basic criteria, including availability; she’d noticed the absence of a wedding ring. He was close to forty, she estimated, but that didn’t disturb her. An eleven-year gap didn’t make much difference, not at her age. She’d be thirty in April, three months from now. Surely she’d be engaged by then.

      Unfortunately the message wasn’t from John. It was from Donnalee, who sounded excited and asked Hallie to phone the minute she walked in the door.

      Hallie rang her back. “You called?”

      “I’ve found the answer,” Donnalee blurted.

      “What’s the question?” Hallie grumbled in response; she hadn’t had lunch and was never at her best on an empty stomach.

      “Where do we meet the men of our dreams?”

      “Hmm.” Her friend certainly had her attention now. “Wher?”

      “The answer’s a bit complicated, so stay with me.”

      “Donnalee…”

      “All I ask is that you hear me out. All right?”

      Hallie muttered a reply. This dating thing had been much easier in high school and college. Apparently she’d lost the knack. Oh, there’d been a few romances in the years since, most of them what you’d call short-term. One had lasted the better part of six months, until it, too, fizzled out. The fault, Hallie admitted, had been her own. Gregg had complained about her long hours and her total commitment to Artistic License, and she’d told him that wasn’t likely to change.

      “I found an ad in the Seattle Weekly for a dating service,” Donnalee announced.

      Hallie groaned. As far as she was concerned, only people who were desperate resorted to dating services. She didn’t even want to think about the kind of men who applied to meet women that way. “You’re joking, right?”

      “You promised you’d hear me out.”

      Hallie closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Okay, okay. Tell me all about it and then I’ll tell you I’m not interested.”

      “This is different.”

      “They use videos, right?”

      “No,” Donnalee said indignantly. “Would you kindly listen?”

      “Sorry.”

      “You and I are successful businesswomen. Most men are intimidated by women like us.”

      Hallie wasn’t convinced that was true, but didn’t say so.

      “In my case, I’ve been married once and it was a disaster.”

      “That was over thirteen years ago.”

      “Soon it’ll be fifteen and then twenty, and my whole life will have passed me by. All because I made a stupid mistake when I was barely out of my teens. Hallie, I want a man in my life.”

      “The whole nine yards,” Hallie added.

      “Children, the house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. Cat, dog, family vacations. I can’t believe I’ve put it off this long! I’d probably still be putting it off if you hadn’t come up with your plan.”

      “You’re saying you want me to contact a dating service, too?”

      “Would you listen, darn it? First you have to apply and if you’re accepted, you pay a hefty fee and they’ll arrange for you to meet a suitable match. One on the same financial level as you, whose personality fits yours. The woman I talked to claims they’re very selective and only take on a certain number of clients. If you’re accepted, the company is committed to finding you a match.”

      “How hefty is the fee?” Hallie had recently forked over fifteen hundred bucks on exercise equipment. So much for paying off her credit cards.

      Donnalee hesitated a moment. “Two grand.”

      “Two thousand dollars!”

      “Yup.”

      “I damn well better get a date with Brad Pitt for that.”

      Donnalee laughed. “Brad wouldn’t date someone as old as either of us.”

      Her friend’s words were of little comfort. “You aren’t serious, are you?” For that kind of money Hallie figured she could have liposuction and forget the treadmill and the dieting.

      “Yup,” Donnalee said with a hint of defiance. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t have as much time as you. If this agency can help me find a decent man, then I’d consider the money well spent.”

      “You are serious.”

      “Just think of it as a shortcut.”

      Hallie still wasn’t sold. “I haven’t actually started looking yet.” Using