Once Upon a Matchmaker by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online

Los Naranjos was the name some clever pencil pusher had given it.
    She wondered if his sons went there. It certainly made drop-offs and pickups easy for whoever looked after the boys while he was at work.
    Maizie had gently touted that feature to her, as well, saying, “When you have kids, you’ll find that this is an excellent school for them to attend. All the schools in Bedford are ranked in the top 5 percent scholastically,” the woman had told her proudly.
    Little had the woman known that for her there was never going to be a “when.” Much as she adored her mother who had raised her by herself—she’d never known her father—Tracy truly believed that kids needed a full set of parents, not just one. After that humiliating experience with Simon, she was not about to get married ever again, which sort of closed the door for her when it came to having kids.
    Tracy pulled up to the curb before his house. Muldare lived closer to her than she’d thought he would. Only one vehicle was in the driveway—his, she assumed—but she didn’t feel as if she could take the spot beside it in case someone dropped by while she was still here.
    After getting out of her vintage white sedan, Tracy came up the walk to the front door. Her ex-husband had been into status symbols, big time. The fact that they couldn’t afford to buy things like super-expensive cars and a cabin cruiser made no difference to him. Debt was just an annoying detail that he left for her to handle while he drove around in a vehicle that could have easily been a down payment on a house in the more affluent part of the city. He’d accused her of being a stick-in-the-mud when she’d tried to show him the discrepancy between their salaries and the lifestyle he was living.
    Tracy rang the doorbell and heard the beginning notes of Beethoven’s Fifth symphony. A classical music lover? Or had that just come with the house and he hadn’t gotten around to changing it?
    She waited until the strains faded away, then pressed the doorbell again, a little longer this time. He had to be home, right? At least, that was what he’d said when he’d called to cancel their appointment. Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like to stand up for himself and this was his way of backing away from the problem.
    If so, he’d probably seen an ad for her law firm and was intimidated by what representation would wind up costing in dollars and cents.
    She hadn’t told him that if she was going to take the case, it would be pro bono. But she also wanted to judge the merits of the case for herself before she committed to it. If she told him about pro bono up front, he’d be eager for her to take the case and if she didn’t believe in his innocence, or didn’t think there was at least a slim chance in hell of winning, she wouldn’t take it on.
    About to ring and listen to the Beethoven piece a third time, she was spared the encore when the front door suddenly opened. Her prospective client was on the other side.
    “I was beginning to think that maybe I had the wrong address,” she said by way of an ice breaker. “Hi, I’m Tracy Ryan,” she said, extending her hand out to his.
    Caught off guard—today was not going to go down as one of his better days—he said the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m Micah Muldare—but then, you already know that.”
    “Yes. I do.” He was still holding her hand and, while that did generate a rather exceptionally warm feeling within her, she did need it back sooner than later.
    She glanced at his hand, then raised her eyes to his, waiting.
    Realizing that he’d spent too long staring at her, Muldare flashed her a quick, grateful smile that was gone almost before it arrived. At the same time, he released her hand.
    It was easy to see that he was worried. About the case? Or about his son? Most likely, it was a little of both. The old adage about “when it rains, it pours” floated through her head.
    Because Muldare