Daddy's Little Matchmakers. Kathleen Y'Barbo
“I did get ad copy while I was there, but I’ll work longer this evening to make up for the time I was gone,” she added.
Bev waved away her statement. “You might not have realized it, but you were working, Amy. Even when you weren’t getting ad copy.”
“I was?”
“Yes, you were.” She scanned her notes then glanced back at Amy. “This is a great story. Definitely a human-interest angle.”
“It is?”
“Plus, we haven’t done anything on the new businesses in town in quite a while. What with Dr. Wilson taking over the practice, that’s newsworthy in itself. Then there’s the side story of his girls and their search for their new mama. All to draw attention to the ad, of course.” She giggled. “Why, this is practically going to write itself. What did you say the name of the Cocker Spaniel is?”
“Skipper. And he’s a Springer Spaniel.” She peered over at Bev’s notepad. “Are you really thinking about writing a story on this?”
“Why not?” Bev said. “Sure beats the article on the Sit and Spin special.”
Amy laughed. “I suppose so.”
“So, what does the ad say?”
Amy fished the paper from her purse. “‘Best daddy in the world needs a wife. Must love dogs and little girls and sailboats and want to be married forever. Ask for Dr. Eric Wilson at Wilson Vet Clinic. Tell him Daddy’s little matchmakers sent you.’” She paused to laugh at the memory of how long it took them to get the wording just right. “That’s it. The girls came up with the ad and their grandmother paid for it. Susan assured me that Eric wouldn’t mind the extra attention, what with the vet clinic being in need of new clients.”
Bev nodded. “So this could be a PR stunt.”
“I thought of that, actually,” Amy said. “But if it is, the girls and their grandmother aren’t showing any signs of it. They really appear to want Eric to find someone. Nothing more. I promise I asked a whole lot of questions before I agreed to take the ad.”
“All right, then. I’ll need a couple of quotes from you.” She waited, pen poised.
“What kind of quotes?” Amy shook her head. “Hold that thought while I put my purse away.”
“I’ll get started on the article.” Bev turned to head back down the hall. “Come into my office when you’re done and we’ll talk about it.”
For all the interest this story might generate, it seemed a bit presumptuous to think this family might want this kind of publicity. In fact, given the tragedy surrounding Dr. Wilson’s status as a widower, they might want just the opposite.
“Hey, Bev, do you really think this is worth writing about?” she called as she opened her desk drawer. “The Wilsons seem like nice people. And I haven’t even spoken to Dr. Wilson.” She paused to reconsider the statement. “At least not about the girls and this ad. Don’t you want his side of the story? To make it more balanced?”
“No need,” Bev called from around the corner. “He’s well represented by his mother and daughters. Besides, it’s the women’s point of view that really makes this interesting, don’t you think?”
“Well, okay,” Amy said slowly as she found Bev’s office and spied her jotting more notes on the almost-full page. “You’re the reporter. But I’d hate to have their personal tragedy made so public.”
Bev scribbled a second more then looked up. “Triumph over tragedy, Amy,” she said. “That is definitely worth writing about. And I promise I’ll be nice.” She shrugged. “I’ve already got the headline all planned out. Daddy’s Little Matchmakers.”
Eric Wilson slumped against the back of his chair and shook his head. “Mother, how in the world did they…”
Words escaped him. Between trying to make a success of the vet clinic and navigating the deep waters of grief over Christy’s loss, he’d obviously found precious little time to attend to the needs of the girls. Why else would they have done something so ridiculous?
And of course they would find the one woman in town who didn’t look at him as if he were the daily special at the Bachelor Buffet. He thought of Amy Spencer’s easy smile and the way he enjoyed speaking to her earlier today and stifled a groan. What must she be thinking of him now? Had his girls really called her and caused a commotion?
“Hailey mentioned that you were considering putting the boat up for sale,” his mother said, one brow lifted. “I assume one classified-ad idea led to another. Did you place yours?”
A shaft of guilt sliced at him. Perhaps he should have mentioned something about parting with the boat before making the call.
“No, I was interrupted. I’m still considering it, actually.” Eric gave his mother a level look. “But back to this ridiculous ad. Whose phone did the girls use?” he continued. “I haven’t gotten around to putting in a home phone yet.”
Eric watched a look he couldn’t quite explain cross his mother’s face. Slowly, she shrugged. “Does it matter?” He was about to answer when she continued. “By the way, Skipper got the remainder of the sandwiches so there’ll be no leftovers.” Mom chuckled. “You also need a new platter. He got that, too.”
He groaned. What next?
“It’s just about time to pick the girls up from ballet, so I should go. Please don’t be too harsh with them tonight. They love you so.” His mother reached for her car keys but made no further move to leave. “And by the way, Amy is a beautiful girl. Long blond curls and the loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen. No ring on her left hand, either.”
“Mother, seriously.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk and sighed. Even now the gaping wound of Christy’s death felt fresh. “You know I’m not interested in dating anyone. It’s just too soon, no matter what my daughters seem to think.”
“Son,” his mother said gently, “it’s been almost four years. Christy would never have wanted you to grieve so long when—”
“I can count.” Eric exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry. Coming here to take over Doc Simmons’s practice was a good move. I’ll never doubt the Lord led us to Vine Beach, and I know the girls love being back here so close to you. So do I.”
“And you know it’s an answered prayer for me, dear. This grandma’s heart was breaking with you and those girls so far away.”
Eric exhaled slowly. Leaving the home in Dallas that he’d shared with Christy had been the hardest thing he’d done since the funeral. And yet it did feel good to be with people who didn’t constantly ask him how he was doing.
“While I’m sure you’re right about why the girls and I are here, I’m also certain His immediate purpose was not to make me wealthy.” He gave his mother a second to take that in. “So, yes, I did have the paper open to the classifieds section. I figured what I could get from the sailboat would cover the bills for a few months. That ought to give God enough time to do a miracle.”
To Eric’s surprise, his mother actually laughed. “Sweetheart, do you think God needs your help doing anything, miracles or otherwise?”
“I suppose not.” His vet tech knocked then slid the door open to indicate his next patient had arrived. “But while I’m waiting for Him, the bills won’t wait for me.”
“All right.” Mom stood and clutched her purse. “But might I suggest you pray about selling that boat? I can’t help but think God has another way of filling this need.”
“I already have,” Eric said. “I suppose if He wants me to keep the boat, He’ll handle the details.”
“Oh, He’s certainly in the detail-handling