hard finding someone suitable.”
Taken aback, Celia looked quizzically at her old friend, who hadn’t called ahead with any details about the person she felt should be their latest project. “Wait, how would you know?”
“How would I know?” Theresa repeated incredulously. “Because I’ve known Miranda Steele ever since she was a little girl. She has this incredibly huge heart and she’s always trying to help everyone. Fix everyone,” Theresa emphasized, which was why she had come to think of the young woman as “the fixer” in recent years.
“Miranda?” Celia echoed, decidedly more confused than she’d initially been. “Maizie and I were talking about Colin when you walked in.”
It was Theresa’s turn to be confused. “Who’s Colin?” she asked, looking from Maizie to Celia.
“Police Officer Colin Kirby,” Celia clarified, adding, “our latest matchmaking project. His aunt Lily is a friend of mine and she came to talk to me on the outside chance that maybe I—actually we—could find someone for him.”
Without pausing, Celia launched into a brief version of the police officer’s backstory. “Lily took him in when her sister, Vanessa, a single mother, died in a car accident. Colin was fourteen at the time. She said that he’s a decent, hardworking young man who just shut down when he lost his mother. He enlisted in the Marines straight out of high school. When his tour of duty overseas ended, he was honorably discharged and immediately joined the police force in Los Angeles.”
Maizie appeared a little dubious. “Los Angeles is a little out of our usual territory,” she commented. “But I guess—”
“Oh no.” Celia quickly cut in. “He’s not in Los Angeles anymore, he’s in Bedford now. Lily talked him into moving back down here. Her health isn’t what it used to be and he’s her only living relative, so he made the move for her, which, in my book, shows you what sort of a person he is.
“The problem is,” Celia continued, “Lily says he’s really closed off, especially after what he saw during his tour overseas and as a police officer in one of the roughest areas in Los Angeles. To put it in Lily’s own words,” she concluded, “Colin needs someone to ‘fix him.’”
Smiling, Maizie shifted her gaze from Celia to Theresa. It was obvious that, in her estimation, they needed to look no further in either case. “You just said you have someone who likes to ‘fix’ people.”
But Celia was more skeptical than her friend. She needed more to work with. “Fix how?”
Theresa gave them Miranda’s background in a nutshell. “According to her mother, Miranda’s a pediatric nurse at Bedford Children’s Hospital who volunteers at a women’s shelter in her free time. She also volunteers at the city’s animal shelter and occasionally takes in strays until they can be placed in a permanent home.”
Maizie’s smile widened. “Ladies, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but this sounds to me like a match made in heaven. I’m assuming you both have a few more pertinent details that we can work with—like what these two look like and how old they are, for openers,” said the woman whose decision to find her daughter a suitable match had initially gotten what turned out to be their “side business” rolling eight years ago.
“Miranda’s thirty,” Theresa told them, producing a photograph on her smartphone that Jeannie had sent her, and holding it up for the others to see.
“Colin’s thirty-three,” Celia said. “And I’ll ask Lily to send me a picture.”
So saying, she texted a message to the woman. In less than a minute, her cell phone buzzed, announcing that her request had been received and answered.
“Here we go,” Celia declared. “Oh my,” she murmured as she looked at the image that had materialized on her smartphone. Colin’s aunt had sent her a photo of her nephew in his police uniform.
Maizie took Celia’s hand and turned the phone around so she could look at it.
“Definitely ‘oh my,’” she agreed wholeheartedly. Pushing the deck of cards aside, she gave up all pretense that they were going to engage in a game of poker this evening, even a single hand. Her gaze took in her two lifelong friends. “Ladies, let’s get down to work. These two selfless servants of society need us. And from what I’ve heard, they also need each other,” the successful Realtor added knowingly. “We’ll require more information to bring about the perfect subtle ‘meet’ to get this particular ball rolling.”
Filled with anticipation, the three old friends got busy.
* * *
Every year, the holiday season seemed to begin earlier and earlier, Miranda Steele thought.
Not that she was complaining. Christmas had always been her very favorite time of year. While others grumbled that the stores were putting up Christmas decorations way too soon, motivated by a desire to increase their already obscene profits, Miranda saw it as a way to stretch the spirit of Christmas a little further, thereby making the true meaning of the season last a little longer.
But sometimes, like now, the pace became a little too hectic even for her. She had just put in a ten-hour day at the hospital, coming in way before her shift actually began in order to help decorate the oncology ward, where she worked. She felt particularly driven because she knew that for some of the children there it would be their last Christmas.
As harsh and sad as that thought was to deal with, she chose to focus on the bright side: bringing the best possible Christmas she could to the children and their families.
At times, she felt like a lone cheerleader, tirelessly attempting to drum up enthusiasm and support from the other nurses, doctors and orderlies on the floor until she had everyone finally pitching in, even if they weren’t all cheerful about it.
She didn’t care if the rest of the staff was cheerful or not, as long as they helped out. And as was her habit, she worked harder than anyone to make sure that things were ultimately “just right.”
If she were a normal person, about now she would be on her way home, having earned some serious bubble bath time.
But soaking in a hot tub was not on this afternoon’s agenda. She didn’t have time for a bubble bath, as much as she longed for one. She had to get Lily’s birthday party ready.
Lily Hayden was eight today. The little girl was one of the many children currently living with their moms at the Bedford Women’s Home, a shelter where Miranda volunteered four days a week after work.
The other two or three days she spent at the city’s no-kill animal shelter, where she worked with dogs and cats—and the occasional rabbit—that were rescued from a possible bleak demise on the street. Miranda had an affinity for all things homeless, be they four-footed or two-footed. In her opinion there never seemed to be enough hours in the day for her to help all these deserving creatures.
She had been working in all three areas for years now and felt she had barely been able to scratch the surface.
Agitated, Miranda looked at the clock on her dashboard. The minutes were flying by.
She was running the risk of being late.
“And if you don’t get there with this cake, Lily is going to think you’ve forgotten all about her, just like her mom did,” Miranda muttered to herself.
Lily’s mother had left the little girl at the shelter when she’d gone to look for work. That was two days ago. No one had heard from the woman since. Miranda was beginning to worry that Gina Hayden, overwhelmed with her circumstances, had bailed out, using the excuse that the little girl was better off at the shelter, without her.
Stepping on the gas, Miranda made a sharp right turn at the next corner, reaching out to hold the cake box on the passenger seat in place.
Focused on getting to the homeless shelter on time, Miranda wasn’t aware of the dancing red and blue lights behind