The Perfect Match. Debbie Macomber

think about it.” But it wouldn’t do any good! However, discretion was a virtue Janine was nurturing, and there’d never been a better time to employ it than now.

      Gramps didn’t mention Zach Thomas or even hint at the subject of her marrying his business partner again until the following evening. They’d just sat down to dinner, prepared to sample Mrs. McCormick’s delicious fare, when Gramps looked anxiously at Janine. “So?” he asked breathlessly.

      From the moment he’d walked into the house that afternoon, Gramps’s mood had been light and humorous. Grinning, he handed her the platter of thinly sliced marinated and grilled flank steak. It happened to be one of Janine’s favorite meals. “So?” he repeated, smiling at her. “What did you decide?”

      Janine helped herself to a crisp dinner roll, buttering it slowly as her thoughts chased each other in frantic circles. “Nothing.”

      His smile collapsed into a frown. “You promised me you’d consider marrying Zach. I gave you more time than Anna’s father gave her.”

      “You have to know now?”

      “Now!”

      “But, Gramps, a simple yes or no isn’t an appropriate response to something as complex as this. You’re asking me to decide on a lifelong commitment in less than twenty-four hours.” She was stalling for time, and Gramps had probably guessed as much. Frankly, she didn’t know what to tell him. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, marry Zach—even if he was willing to marry her—but she hated disappointing her grandfather.

      “What’s so difficult? Either you marry him or not!”

      “I don’t understand why you’ve decided to match me up with Zach Thomas,” she cried. “What’s wrong with Peter?” She’d been dating the other man casually for the last few months. Her heart was too bruised after what had happened with Brian for her to date anyone seriously.

      “You’re in love with that whitewashed weakling?”

      Janine signed loudly, regretting the fact that she’d introduced Peter into their conversation. “He’s very nice.”

      “So is chocolate mousse!” Gramps muttered. “Peter Donahue would make you a terrible husband. I’m shocked you’d even think about marrying him.”

      “I hadn’t actually thought about him in those terms,” she said. Peter was witty and fun, but Gramps was right; they weren’t suited as husband and wife.

      “I thank the good Lord you’ve been given some sense.”

      Janine took a deep breath and finally asked a question that had been nagging at her all afternoon. “Did—did you arrange my father’s marriage?”

      Gramps lowered his eyes, but not before he could disguise the pain there. “No. He fell in love with Patrice while he was in college. I knew the match wasn’t a good one, but Anna reminded me that this was America and young people fell in love by themselves. She convinced me they didn’t need a father’s guiding hand the way we did in the old country.”

      “Do you think he would’ve listened if you’d wanted to arrange a marriage?”

      Her grandfather hesitated, and his hand tightened on his water glass. “I don’t know, but I’d like to believe he would have.”

      “Instead he married my mother.”

      Neither spoke for a long moment. Janine remembered little of her parents, only bits and pieces of memory, mostly unconnected. What she did recall were terrible fights and accusations, a house filled with strife. She could remember hiding under her bed when the shouting started, pressing her hands to her ears. It was her father who used to find her, who comforted her. Always her father. Her memory included almost nothing of her mother. Even pictures didn’t jar her recollection, although Janine had spent hour upon hour looking at photographs, hoping to remember something. But the woman who’d given birth to her had remained a stranger to her in life and in death.

      “You’re the only consolation I have from Steven’s marriage,” Anton said hoarsely. “At least I had you after Steven and Patrice died.”

      “Oh, Gramps. I love you so much and I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t marry Zach and I can’t see him agreeing to marry me.”

      Her grandfather was silent after that, apparently mulling over her words as he finished his dinner. “I suppose I seem like a feeble old man, still trying to live the old ways.”

      “Gramps, no, I don’t think that at all.”

      He planted his elbows squarely on the table and linked his fingers, gazing at her. His brow was puckered in a contemplative frown. “Perhaps it would help if you told me what you want in a husband.”

      She hesitated, then glanced away, avoiding eye contact. Once she’d been so certain of what she wanted. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. Romance, I suppose.”

      “Romance.” Gramps rolled the word off his tongue as though he was tasting an expensive wine.

      “Yes,” she said with a nod of her head, gaining confidence.

      “And what exactly is romance?”

      “Well…” Now that she’d been called upon to define it, Janine couldn’t quite put that magical feeling into words. “It’s…it’s an awareness that comes from the heart.”

      “The heart,” her grandfather repeated, smacking his palm against his chest.

      “Romance is the knowledge that a man would rather die than live his life without me,” she said, warming to the subject.

      “You want him to die?”

      “No, just to be willing.”

      Gramps frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

      “Romance is forbidden trysts on lonely Scottish moors,” she added, thinking of an historical romance she’d read as a teenager.

      “There aren’t any moors in the Seattle area.”

      “Don’t distract me,” she said, smiling, her thoughts gaining momentum. “Romance is desperate passion.”

      He snorted. “That sounds more like hormones to me.”

      “Gramps, please!”

      “How can I understand when all you say is ridiculous things? You want romance. First you claim it’s a feeling in the heart, then you say it’s some kind of passion.”

      “It’s more than that. It’s walking hand in hand along the beach at twilight and gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s speaking of love without ever having to say the words.” She paused, feeling a little foolish at getting so carried away. “I don’t know if I can adequately describe it.”

      “That’s because you haven’t experienced it.”

      “Maybe not,” she agreed reluctantly. “But I will someday.”

      “With Zach,” he said with complete assurance and a wide grin.

      Janine didn’t bother to argue. Gramps was being obstinate and arguing with him was pointless. The only recourse she had was time itself. Soon enough he’d realize that neither she nor Zach was going to fall in with his scheme. Then, and only then, would he drop the subject.

      A week passed and Gramps hadn’t said another word about arranging a marriage between her and Zachary Thomas. It was a cold windy March evening and the rain was coming down in torrents. Janine loved nights like this and was curled up in her favorite chair with a mystery novel when the doorbell chimed. Gramps had gone out for the evening and she wasn’t expecting anyone.

      She turned on the porch light and looked out the peephole to discover Zach standing there, a briefcase in his hand. His shoulders were hunched against the pelting rain.

      “Zach,” she