Chapter Text
Emma wasn’t a romantic.
When she told people this, they were surprised. She was a self-proclaimed “expert matchmaker,” after all. She had paired her childhood babysitter up with the widower next door, the handsome Mr. Weston whose son Emma just so happened to be dating.
“It’s because I love romance so much that I’m not a romantic for myself,” Emma explained.
Harriet Martin gave her best friend a sidelong glance. “You do love a good rom-com.”
“Right?” Emma said brightly. “The adorable meet-cutes, the witty banter, the obvious soul-mate-level connection that two people share that the main couple just can’t see yet. It’s all there in the movies and trashy books.”
“It’s like…research, for your true life’s calling.”
Her friend laughed. Emma had one of those laughs that filled an entire room. She didn’t hide it behind a cute giggle like some women did. In fact, she didn’t make any part of herself smaller to fit societal norms. It was one of the qualities that had drawn Harriet to her, like a moth to a flame.
“Matchmaking is not my true life’s calling.” Emma’s blue eyes shone with determination. It was a look her father referred to as his “petulant princess.”
Harriet decided not to tease her about it. Instead, she just shrugged. “You paired me and Robert together.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “Pretty sure you told me not to fix you up with someone so ‘boring.’”
She groaned. “Right, but I was too stuck on George Knightley at the time. And speaking of your oldest and dearest friend…”
Emma held up her hand. “Not one word on the subject, thank you very much. I have a glass of wine, I’m watching your husband make googly eyes at you from across the room, and I’m enjoying the ambiance.”
Harriet opened her mouth to protest, but she realized now was not the time. Emma was in ‘a mood’ and it wasn’t a good idea to rile her up.
Harriet caught her dear husband’s gaze from across the room.
Help me, he mouthed at her.
She stifled a laugh and watched as he fixed his face into a bland, mildly pleasant expression as Charlotte Palmer showed Robbie another identical photo of her 2-week-old baby. He needed rescuing, and fast. Harriet walked over and said something cute like, “I need to steal him away from you for a minute.”
Emma watched as the couple exchanged an expression of relief and exasperation, whispering quietly to each other until they were interrupted by another coworker of Robbie’s. Emma observed the way Harriet’s smile faltered. Someone probably had the audacity to ask her most hated question—“So, when are you two going to have kids?” As if Harriet and Robbie hadn’t been trying for over 2 years. As if they hadn’t exhausted their HSA accounts on a year of hormonal treatments that hadn’t worked.
It was Emma’s turn to come to the rescue. “You guys, have you seen the fortune-teller the company hired? Let’s go check her out!”
Harriet gave her friend a grateful look before she whispered, “We’re not actually going over there, are we? You know that sort of thing freaks me out.”
“Come on, live a little,” Emma wheedled, in her most persuasive tone.
Robbie was right behind them, and he laughed. “Now, who can say no to that face?”
“So unfair,” Harriet agreed, shaking her head with a small smile.
They approached the small corner table of the chain-restaurant that Robbie’s company had rented for the evening. Drinks were flowing, appetizers were plentiful, and it seemed that Madame Rue was meant to be their entertainment. She had a colorful turban on her head, and the table was festooned with gauzy, sparkly fabric. She didn’t have a deck of Tarot cards, however. She had nothing on the table surface except for her clasped hands.
“Ten dollars to peek into your future,” she said in a thick, ambiguous accent. Her heavily outlined eyes were a deep, dark brown, and they peered curiously at Emma.
“That’s all it costs?”
“Company discount,” she said, shrugging one slim shoulder.
Robbie reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty.
“Two for one,” Madame Rue declared. She held out her hands and silently encouraged Robbie and Harriet to place their hands in hers.
She closed her eyes and hummed softly. Then, with a click of her tongue, she opened them again and dropped both of their hands.
“You will need a bigger boat,” she said to Robbie.
He blinked at her. “O…kay?”
Her enigmatic gaze shifted to Harriet. “Enjoy that while you can.” She pointed to Harriet’s wine glass.
“That’s it?” She said, her heart racing with painful hope. This lady couldn’t be the real deal. She couldn’t take what she had to say as the truth. Still, her own heart hoped and hoped and hoped…month after month. Year after year.
“What do you expect for ten dollars?” Madame Rue said with a wry smile.
“Wow! Well, that was informative,” Emma declared. She moved as if to walk away.
“Now, hang on a second,” Harriet called out. “You brought us over here. It’s your turn.”
“Exactly. I brought you over here because I thought it would be fun. I don’t buy into it, and I’m certainly not going to—”
“My treat,” Robbie said, pulling a 10 dollar bill out of his wallet with a teasing smile. “I want to hear the future of the woman who has planned out every step of her life.”
Emma wanted to retort, but Madame Rue was already reaching for her hand. It was over just as quickly as it had begun.
She gripped her hand tightly and gazed up at her with a slight frown on her thin face. “You will get a ring by spring…or you will never marry.”
Well, that effectively broke the jovial mood. Emma snatched her hand away. She muttered a word of thanks and walked away. The three friends didn’t stay much longer after that.
Harriet and Robbie were quiet in their car, after dropping Emma off at her apartment.
“Well, that night took a turn,” Robbie said.
She reached for his hand. “Do you think Madame Rue was right?”
He gave her a tender smile. “I don’t know, sweetie. We paid her $30 to get some weird-ass advice. I mean, she probably overheard people asking us about having kids. And Emma just laughed her prediction off.”
Harriet frowned. There was more to it. Emma had been bothered by what the fake fortune-teller had said. She decided to keep this to herself, since it was only conjecture. But Emma seemed to be a little restless lately. That was the only way Harriet could describe it.
She decided to change the subject. “So, are we going to become boat people now?”
Robbie laughed at that. She stared at his profile in the dark interior of the car. How she ever thought he was boring or ugly…well, she wanted to slap some sense into past Harriet. “You and I burn like crazy. No way in hell am I buying a boat.”
She moved her hand against his thigh. “Well, maybe Madame Rue is wrong about some things. But one thing’s for sure…you’re getting lucky tonight.”
“Hot dang,” Robbie said as he gently accelerated the car.
Harriet laughed. She was damn lucky to have finally come to her senses about Robert Martin.
—
Emma wasn’t feeling particularly lucky that evening. She got home and realized she had forgotten to submit her pick-up grocery order. She had next to nothing to eat, and the appetizers weren’t enough to satisfy her. With a sigh, she settled for cold cereal. Something sugary she had bought on a whim when she was stressed about work.
She finished one bowl and then ate another.
Was she stressed about that fortune-teller’s prediction? No, that was ridiculous. Emma didn’t care about that sort of thing. She was happy with Frank, ring or no ring. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get married.
No, the thing that was bothering her was Harriet’s less-than-subtle reference to George Knightley. Her stomach twisted itself into knots. Part of her missed him. Part of her still wondered…
She sighed. There was no point rehashing the past. He had been such a fixture in their own house when she was growing up that Mr. Woodhouse considered him to be a sort of “bonus child.” Especially after Emma’s older sister Isabelle married his brother John.
Then, Harriet had to go and form a crush on George and make all sorts of insinuations about why Emma was opposed to it. Or why the possibility that George also liked Harriet had bothered her so much.
No, George was like an older brother. He just needed to be with the right person. And since Emma had failed to find any matches he approved of, she had all but given up. A certain panic was beginning to set in, and she could never figure out where it was coming from. It was why, when her work started to take off and she was twice as busy as she used to be, she had allowed the distance between herself and George to grow even bigger.
Tonight, for some reason, she wanted to call him and tell him about the fortune-teller. He’d get a kick out of it.
She picked up her phone and searched through her contacts. When was the last time they had spoken? Was it really more than a year ago? Or…was it two? Her thumb hovered over his name. Then, she scrolled up.
“Hey,” Frank said, answering her call on the first ring. He was dependable like that. “Whatcha up to?”
She smiled. “Just eating some cereal.”
“At 10pm? That’s…a choice.”
She laughed. He was predictable. Steady. It was just what she needed to sort out her tangled-up nerves.