Love Lessons:
Self-assured Nadia Normandy knows everything there is to
know about men and dating, which seems to be why little old Mrs. Beasley
maneuvers her into taking unsuspecting and bookish accountant Benji Garner
under her wing. Her mission? Shape him up for the opposite sex, preferably
in time for New Year’s Eve.
A challenge? Sure,
but Nadia discovers that Benji’s got a charm all his own, and she finds herself
avoiding her usual social scene in favor of time spent with him—all in the name
of mentoring him, of course.
Except that after a while, it starts to feel less like
mentoring and more like something else—which could present a problem, because
just as Nadia begins to realize she didn’t know quite as much about men as she
thought, other women are starting to notice her unlikely protégé.
Barnes &Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-lessons-christine-s-feldman/1117534117?ean=2940149100101
Excerpt:
“Dear, could I possibly get you to
do something for me?”
On the surface, the question seemed
harmless enough, especially when the petite white-haired lady asking it looked
like she could have stepped right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. When one actually knew the matchmaking
schemer that lay beneath that innocent exterior, though, one learned to pay
close attention before committing to anything.
And Nadia Normandy had long ago
learned to pay very close
attention. Straightening from behind the
Heavenly Bites display case in which she was rearranging a tray of cream puffs,
she put both hands squarely on the counter and leaned forward to look the older
woman straight in the eye. Well, forward
and down; Mrs. Beasley was only four foot eleven. “Who is he, Mrs. B?”
Her customer blinked at her through enormous
tortoiseshell glasses, her eyes wide with innocence. Considering how much the huge lenses
magnified her eyes, they looked very wide indeed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Last time you asked me to do
something for you with that little quaver in your voice, I wound up agreeing to
a blind date with a carpet salesman who had an absolutely out-of-this-world
sweating problem. What was wrong with
that poor man anyway? Was
it
something glandular?”
“My dry cleaner’s son is very nice,”
Mrs. Beasley huffed with what struck Nadia
as
incredibly insincere indignation.
“He used my cashmere scarf to wipe
his forehead at dinner. Twice.”
“Yes, but he did offer to get it cleaned
for you at his mother’s shop for a fantastic discount.”
“Sorry, Mrs. B.” Nadia bent down to resume working on the
cream puffs. “I can find my own dates
just fine, thank you.” She’d gotten
nibbles from three different prospects this week alone due to all the holiday
parties she’d attended. A hunky physical
trainer, a Latin musician with a smile to die for, and the third one—what was
he again? A dogwalker? Dog trainer maybe? Or maybe he just liked dogs. All she really remembered about him was his
great tan because she was impressed that he managed to maintain it so well
despite it being the middle of winter.
Well, maybe she was more curious than impressed.
The fact that his tan was the only
memorable thing about him was a bad sign, though. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt and
one date, but somehow she suspected there wouldn’t be a second one.
“Pretty thing like you? Of course you don’t need help finding
somebody.” And yet it was impossible to
miss the glance Mrs. Beasley gave to the ringless finger on Nadia’s left hand,
especially since her eyes were magnified to twice their normal size by her
tremendous lenses.
Nadia raised one eyebrow to let her
know that she understood exactly what that look meant but chose not to comment.
“And anyway,” the older woman
continued, “that wasn’t the kind of favor I was
going
to ask of you.”
“No?”
“No.”
Closing up the display case, Nadia
returned her attention to Mrs. Beasley.
“So there’s no man involved in this favor whatsoever?”
“Well…”
Now Nadia raised both eyebrows. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.”
“It is not what you think. You see,
the young man who handles all of my financial matters for me is a sweet boy,
but he’s also rather…awkward.”
“Awkward?”
“Socially speaking, yes. You see, Benji—“
“Benji? This guy is named after a dog? And
he’s an accountant—oh, Mrs. B…” Shaking
her head, Nadia reached for a cloth and began wiping down the counter.
“Benji is short for Benjamin
actually, but Benji really suits him better.
You’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”
“Mrs. B, I am not going out with
your accountant.”
“I’m not asking you to see him
socially, dear, I’m asking you to…to educate
him.”
Nadia blinked and stopped wiping the
counter. “Educate him? In what, scones and shortbread?”
“In social niceties, particularly in
regards to women. How to talk to them,
where to meet them, that sort of thing.”
Mrs. Beasley patted Nadia on the hand.
“You’re so
good
with people, dear. You’d be a natural at
this!”
“At teaching a man how to pick up
women? Mrs. B, what exactly do you think
I
do
when I go out?”
“Who better to teach a man what
women want than a woman?”
It was hard to argue with that. Still, the prospect of becoming a dating
coach to a complete stranger was about as appealing as a second date with the
uber-moist carpet salesman. “What about
asking your granddaughter? She’s not
exactly shy with other people. Why not
have her do it?”
Mrs. Beasley fidgeted and cleared
her throat. “Aimee is…
unconventional. I’m not sure she’d be
the best person to give Benji advice on dating.”
Unconventional. That was a good word for Aimee. The girl was probably a few years younger
than Nadia, somewhere in her mid-twenties, and she had come to live with her
grandmother a few months ago. In that
short time, she’d gone from blonde to redhead to jet-black hair with red
streaks. Nadia tried to picture Aimee
even in the same room as an accountant and failed. “Fair enough.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
Nadia couldn’t hold back a
wince. “Mrs. B—“
“Please, dear? It’s for a good cause, I promise.”
“Is this because Trish is dating Ian
now, and you want a matchmaking project?” Nadia asked, referring to her best
friend and business partner. “Who’s next
on your list, your pharmacist?”
“No,” Mrs. Beasley replied without a
moment’s hesitation. “My hairdresser.”
Nadia started to laugh and then
stopped as she realized the other woman was
serious. “Wait—you actually do have a list?”
“Never mind that, dear. Now, Benji works nine to five most days, so
it would
probably
be best if you met him after work.”
“Hang on, I never said I’d—“
“Please, dear? At my age, I have so few pleasures left, and
who knows how much time I even have at all, really.” The quaver was back in Mrs. Beasley’s voice,
and she let one wrinkled hand hover tremulously over her heart as if it might
give out on her within the next three seconds.
It was blatant manipulation, Nadia
thought. It was also very
effective. “Mrs. B,” she groaned,
pleading.
“You could consider it a Christmas
present to me.”
“I gave you your favorite homemade
lemon tarts as your Christmas present!”
The old woman let both hands tremble
over her heart now.
“Shame on you,” Nadia muttered,
folding her arms across her chest and frowning but also slumping against the
back counter in defeat.
Mrs. Beasley beamed at her. “I think the best thing would be for you two
to meet at that charming little coffee shop on Third and Oakdale,” she told
Nadia, the quaver in her voice vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s midway between both of your
workplaces.” Reaching into her purse
with a hand that was as steady as a rock, she pulled out a business card that
had MacGready Financial Services, Inc. printed on it and handed it to Nadia. “I wrote the address on the back along with
Benji’s phone number. I’ll tell him to
expect you.”
“What? Mrs. B, it’s Christmas Eve!”
“You’re right,” Mrs. Beasley agreed
after a moment’s consideration. “Silly
me. I
suppose
the day after Christmas is more reasonable.”
“The day after Christmas—“ Nadia
sputtered, incredulous.
The older woman’s lip quivered. “I just thought it would be so nice to help
Benji start the new year off right, and—and—“
Her hand found its way to her heart again.
Clearly Mrs. B meant to have her way
in this. “All right, fine, Mrs. B. I’ll do it.
But you know, woman, you really ought to be regulated by the federal
government. I’ll bet you can squeeze out
tears on command, can’t you?”
Mrs. Beasley only patted Nadia’s
hand again. “How does five o’clock
sound?”
“Like emotional blackmail, but other
than that, fine.”
“Lovely. Then I’ll just take a dozen of those
gingerbread men, and I’ll be on my way.”
Scooping up the requested treats and
putting them in a bag, Nadia rang them up and handed them over. “I don’t even have the first idea of what to
say to this guy, you know.”
“You’ll think of something
wonderful, dear, I just know it.”
“Mrs. B?”
The woman paused with her hand on
the door. “Yes?”
“Am I on that list of yours?”
“Merry Christmas, dear,” was all
Mrs. Beasley called out in response as she stepped out into the wintry weather.
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