A Valentine Kiss-Matchmaker

PROLOGUE

      Summer 1996

     “We don't want to scare them off, Lula.”  Marie Rodgers gave her best friend and new neighbor a glass of lemonade before sitting in a rocking chair.  A hot summer breeze carrying the sweet smell of magnolias drifted gently on the front porch of her century old house - the place they'd chosen to meet and plot.

     “If we're going to get our grandchildren to marry, we have to make it seem like it was their idea,” Marie continued, draping her tie-dyed cotton sundress across her legs.

     “You're right,” Lula Valentino agreed.  “If my grandson thought I was interfering with his life, well, more than usual, he'd have a fit.  I just want Justin to have the same kind of love that Ruddy and I shared.  When I mention marriage, he says ‘Been there.  Done that,'” she rolled her eyes.  “Justin can be so stubborn at times.”  Lula placed her glass on the wicker table next to her and picked up her favorite paper fan.

     “Camille is no push over either,” Marie said with a bit of pride.  “But she's just what Justin needs.”

     “And Justin is just what Camille needs,” Lula added.

     They rocked in silence, each lost in their separate dreams of seeing their grandchildren happily married.  Lula giggled like a school girl, breaking the silence.

     “What's so funny?” Marie asked.

     “Sparks are going to fly when they get together,” Lula said.

     “Hopefully there'll be enough sparks to give us lots beautiful great-grandchildren.  Goodness knows we've waited long enough,” Marie replied with a hint of aggravation in her voice.

     “Amen to that, sister,” Lula said with conviction then frowned.  “How are we going to get Camille to Wainswright for any length of time?  We both know Justin isn't going anywhere near Atlanta.”

     Marie sat up straight in her chair, staring at her friend in surprise.  “Lula Valentino, are you getting old on me?  When have we let a little thing like distance stop us?”

     “Old!  Who are you calling old,” she waved her fan at Marie.  “At least I haven't reach eighty.”

     “If you live to see tomorrow you'll be eighty just like me.”  Marie rocked silently in her chair then give her friend a mischievous smile.  “Don't worry about Camille.  She'll be here before you know it.”

     “I know that look, Marie. What are you up to now?”

     “Just a little matchmaking.”

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