A Perfectly Imperfect Match. Marie Ferrarella

is keeping you up at night?”

      He didn’t want to give Maizie the wrong impression. Nor did he want to be disloyal to Elizabeth. To the outside world, his daughter was outgoing, bubbly and very talented. She wasn’t desperately trolling all the singles haunts, looking for a mate. His concern about her was due to something far more subtle.

      “It’s not that I’m worried about her. It’s just that…” The doctor let his voice trail off, not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to say.

      “You’re worried about her,” Maizie corrected, reading between the lines. “I thought Elizabeth was seeing someone.”

      He frowned, recalling his daughter’s one serious relationship. “That’s been over for a while. He was more interested in changing her than cherishing the person she was.”

      Maizie smiled, amused. “Spoken like a true doting father.”

      He supposed he was that. He loved all his children, but Elizabeth was his oldest and the only girl. She was the proverbial apple of his eye and he wanted to see her happy.

      And she didn’t seem to be.

      “We had dinner the other evening and she confided that she felt as if life were bypassing her, because she was always supplying the background music for other people’s romances.”

      Maizie summarized what was on his mind. “So, in essence, you’d like to find Mr. Perfect for her.”

      He surprised her by shaking his head. “No, I fully realize that there’s never going to be a ‘Mr. Perfect,’” he began.

      Maizie cut him short. “Is that you being a realist, or you being a dad who feels that no man will ever be good enough for his daughter?”

      He paused to consider that. “A little bit of both, I suppose, but mostly the second part,” he confessed.

      Maizie laughed. “All right, I’ll see what I can do about finding Mr. Almost-Perfect for your daughter.”

      The doctor rose from his stool and walked Maizie out of his office. “I never thought I’d be one of those fathers looking to set their daughter up with someone. I mean, Elizabeth’s talented, and beautiful—a passel of not-so-perfect men should be tripping all over themselves to get to her.”

      “Maybe they are.” Maizie saw the look of surprise on the physician’s handsome, patrician face. “Maybe Elizabeth’s standards are exceptionally high. Maybe,” she concluded, “she’s trying to find someone as upstanding, kind and decent as her father.”

      That had never occurred to him. “You really think that’s why she’s still single?”

      “Most likely not consciously, but, John, you are a hard act to preempt,” Maizie told him, then added with a wink, “But don’t worry, I am going to try my darndest to do just that.”

      “I don’t know whether to be relieved, or worried,” he said honestly.

      “Just continue being who you are, John,” she soothed gently, then promised, “I’ll get back to you soon.”

      With that, she left his office, a cheerful woman with a mission.

       Chapter One

      Her fingers glided flawlessly over the taut strings of her violin.

      Little by little, as she played, Elizabeth Stephens felt the same old longing creeping over her, the desire to be part of the party instead of merely providing the music for that party.

      The moment she realized that her mind had drifted, and that she was feeling way too sorry for herself, Elizabeth winced with guilt.

      Here she was, not just stitching together a passable living allowing her to make ends meet, but happily making a very decent living.

      Oh, she couldn’t go put a down payment on a yacht anytime soon, but she was more than just getting by—while others in her chosen field had either been forced to give up their dreams entirely, or were doing it more as a hobby that they tried to fit in around their day job.

      Luckily, her day job also featured playing the violin. She managed to make a good salary by melding a couple or so different varieties of orchestra engagements. One gig involved playing in the pit for a theater group that was currently trying their hand at a revival of Fiddler on the Roof, another entailed being part of a six-piece orchestra that periodically was called in to provide the background music being scored for a romantic-comedy series.

      The last gig involved working alongside several musicians on a commercial for an insurance company. It paid double because they not only played the music but were also seen playing. Her brother Eric had teased her about her screen “presence” and had asked her for her autograph.

      And all those jobs didn’t include the weddings, anniversaries, graduation ceremonies and various other social engagements that regularly came her way.

      Like this one, Elizabeth thought, taking care to keep her smile in place as she and the four other entertainers who had been hired to perform at Barry Edelstein’s Bar Mitzvah began playing yet another song.

      It wasn’t the thirteen-year-old who had triggered her thoughts about sitting on the sidelines, playing while everyone else was having a good time. Instead, it was the Bar Mitzvah boy’s older sister, Rachel. The striking brunette seemed to be completely oblivious to her surroundings—and that included the music—as she gazed up into the face of the young man who was holding her to him so tightly.

      As she looked on enviously, it appeared to Elizabeth that there didn’t seem to be enough space between the two young people for a breath to sneak in—not even a shallow one. Anyone could see that they were lost in one another’s eyes—and very much in love.

      Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. Here was another occasion of her supplying the theme songs for someone else’s life, someone else’s romance. Without realizing it, the smile she’d kept fixed on her face slipped a little and a small frown took its place.

      When was it her turn? she wondered in another moment of self-pity. When did she get to be swept up in her own romance?

      “Everything okay, Lizzie?” Jack Borman whispered between barely moving lips as he leaned over toward her.

      Jack was playing the portable keyboard he brought to all their mutual engagements. It was because of her previous association with Jack, whom she’d met while still in college, that she had gotten this particular gig, as well as a number of other engagements over the past few years.

      Networking was all part of the life of a musician. If you managed to make enough acquaintances in this business, you hopefully got to play—and eat—on a fairly regular basis.

      Elizabeth disliked being called Lizzie by some people and she knew that Jack was aware of that, but for some reason, calling her by that nickname seemed to amuse him. Since Jack was the source of a decent amount of work lately—and they were friends—she wasn’t about to belabor the point that being referred to as “Lizzie” made her feel as if she were ten years old.

      That it was also, coincidentally, the name of one of her neighbor’s cats—a calico cat that was undoubtedly the fattest feline she’d ever seen outside of a documentary on the Discovery Channel—made the name even less desirable to her.

      Elizabeth leaned ever so slightly closer to Jack and his keyboard. “I’m just fine,” she murmured, hoping that he’d leave it there.

      But when their eyes met, she realized that she should have known better. Jack liked to think of himself as a minor deity, fixing things that had gone wrong in the lives of “his people,” as he referred to the folks he kept on his roster of potential musicians to call whenever the need for a small orchestra came up.

      Of all the musicians Jack had amassed to call for the various affairs he was contracted to play, he’d