The Matchmaker's Apprentice. Karen Toller Whittenburg

cute baby of the family—wasn’t at fault, shouldn’t feel guilty, couldn’t truly be to blame for whatever had happened.

      But she wasn’t a baby anymore. Despite her family’s reluctance to allow her to grow up, she had. She was, whether they wanted to believe it or not, an adult. And she had no intention of absolving herself from the guilt she rightfully felt. She hadn’t wanted Scott and Molly to marry. She still thought she was right about their chances of finding true happiness together. But she hadn’t wanted her beliefs to cause them unhappiness, either.

      She deserved a hefty chunk of responsibility for today’s fiasco and she deserved to feel gloomy that her first attempt at matchmaking had been a complete and utter disaster.

      Andrew, however, would never allow her to admit her guilt to him, so she tapped his arm with her bridesmaid’s bouquet. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your date.”

      “What date?”

      “Your date to the wedding. Jocelyn? A petite brunette? In a pink dress? Where did you put her?” She glanced out at the pool of somber faces, looking for the young woman Andrew had introduced earlier as his date.

      “Fifth row, left. In the middle.” He glanced in the general vicinity of the brunette and smiled. “I’d go sit with her, but she’s wearing pink and you know how that clashes with my hair.”

      He was the only redhead in their branch of the family and his hair was, in Ainsley’s prejudiced opinion, his second-best feature. It was strawberry-blond, a rich reddish-gold, and thick, with just enough curl to give it great body and texture, and just enough length to identify him as a nonconformist. He didn’t have freckles or the pale, ivory skin of most redheads, either, and his athletic, outdoor tan was a perfect foil for the blue, Danville eyes…Andrew’s best feature of all. He was better looking than Matt, although not technically as handsome. Ainsley, being his twin, might have been slightly prejudiced in his favor, but as she adored both of her brothers, she couldn’t imagine it made much difference either way.

      “Do you ever think about getting married, Drew?” she asked, his pet name giving the question a serious lilt and the expectation of a truthful answer.

      “Good grief, no,” he said, sounding at least seventy-five percent honest. “I’m planning to live a long, happy life.”

      She laughed under her breath. “Marriage increases a man’s lifespan by a good ten or fifteen years. Didn’t you know that?”

      “I said ‘long, happy life.’ There’s a difference. Besides, even if I was inclined toward a monogamous, committed relationship, where would I find a woman who’d willingly put up with my nomadic schedule?”

      “Maybe if you dated someone more than once or twice, you’d come closer to finding someone who keeps as weird a schedule as you do.” He was always off chasing photographs, leaving on the spur of the moment, staying gone until he was ready to come home, getting up at dawn to catch the perfect angle of light, camping out for a month, waiting for the full moon or no moon or a sliver of moon or some distant star—whatever he needed in the picture he’d visualized in his head. “Maybe you ought to try dating another photographer.”

      He grinned. “Not interested. It’s all I can do to get along with my photography assistants, and you and I both know they only tolerate my artistic temperament because I pay them big bucks to do it. I’m looking for a new assistant, by the way.”

      “I thought you just hired one.”

      He shrugged. “She left before lunch on her first day of work.”

      “Maybe you should hire male assistants.”

      “I have. I’m an equal opportunity employer, but it’s mostly females who answer my ads. Consequently, I usually have a female assistant.”

      “Do you want me to find someone for you?”

      “I don’t think so, Miss Matchmaker.”

      “Apprentice,” she corrected. “I’m only the matchmaker’s apprentice.” Obviously not a very good one, either.

      “All the more reason for me to advertise for an assistant in the newspaper. No offense, Ains, but you’d hook me up with some romantically inclined Cinderella and I’d have to fire her for mooning over me instead of doing what needs to be done. Don’t give my lack of an assistant another thought. Please.”

      She’d never set up an introduction of possibilities for Andrew and some “romantically inclined Cinderella.” She might make her share of mistakes, but she wouldn’t make that one. “All right,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ll keep my recommendations to myself.” She nodded toward the fifth row, left, in the middle. “Go talk to your date. She’s starting to look neglected.”

      He stood, believing he’d fulfilled his mission of cheering up his twin sister. “I think I’ll show her the exit and see if I can interest her in dressing up as superheroes for the duration of the evening. She’d look good in one of those outfits, don’t you think?”

      Ainsley pretended to consider. “As long as the color doesn’t clash with your hair.”

      Just then, Uncle Edward stepped up onto the dais and cleared his throat. “Thank you all for waiting,” he said. “And thank you for your support today. While I can’t ask you to join us for the celebratory reception originally planned, I’m extending a heartfelt invitation for each of you to join us for dinner and dancing and whatever else we decide to do in order to put aside our—” he glanced down at Scott’s defeated and despondent slump “—disappointment.” Then, gesturing toward the doors, Uncle Edward bent down and offered his son a comforting pat on the shoulder.

      Andrew looked at Ainsley. “See you at the buffet tables,” he said and walked over to offer Scott a few words of encouragement before heading for the fifth row, left, and Jocelyn, who welcomed his approach with a wide smile and a tinge of pink blush on her cheeks.

      And for probably the first time since Ainsley had become the matchmaker’s apprentice, the possibility of a romantic match didn’t even cross her mind.