“Della Newton?” I asked the tall thin woman wearing a designer suit and three-inch heels after I arrived at the boutique I’d been told she owned. My immediate impression was that, while she was stunning, she was dressed all wrong for cold and casual Foxtail Lake.
“You must be Callie.” She offered me her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Your store is lovely. I will admit to having adopted a much more casual approach to clothing since moving to the area, but your selection is stunning.”
She pulled out a pair of designer jeans. “We offer casual clothes as well as formal and business attire. I think these jeans, along with this sweater, would suit you quite well.”
The soft blue sweater she’d pulled out was exactly the sort of thing I’d wear for a casual date or workday. “I’m in a bit of a hurry today with appointments set up one right after the other, but I will most definitely come back when I have time to shop.”
She replaced the jeans and sweater to the rack. “So how can I help you today?”
“As I indicated when we spoke on the phone, I’m interviewing all Ms. Cupid’s clients and hoped you would answer some general questions about your experience.”
She nodded her perfectly coiffed head of platinum blond hair. “I’d be happy to tell you what I can. To be honest, I really didn’t expect to find my perfect match here in sleepy little Foxtail Lake, but then my best friend, Lori, found out about Ms. Cupid, and she told me about her phenomenal success rate and suggested I give it a try.”
“Would your friend, Lori, be Lori Darvis from the first match back in early August?”
“Yes, that’s her. She told me she saw an ad on her social media feed and was curious. She decided to give it a try since no money was requested. She filled out the application, and about two weeks later, she received an email telling her to meet the man she’d been matched with at the Grizzly Bear Diner. She showed up at the requested time, met Jason, and fell in love by the end of the date. Lori and Jason were married this past Christmas, and they really do seem very happy, so I decided to give it a try.”
“And when did you fill out the application?” I asked.
“In October. To be honest, given the limited population in this area, even with Lori’s endorsement, I was skeptical that Ms. Cupid would find a match for me, but the very first man she arranged for me to meet turned out to be exactly the sort of guy I was looking for.”
“Have you lived in Foxtail Lake long?” I had to admit that she seemed all wrong for the area, and I had to wonder why she’d chosen the isolated mountain community as her home.
“Only about three years. This boutique originally belonged to my sister, Farah. She was diagnosed with cancer three years ago and needed help with the store. I was working for an ad agency in Chicago at the time but not really loving my job, so when she shared that she feared she’d have to close the store, I volunteered to come to Foxtail Lake to help out. Running this store is not at all what I imagined for myself, but now that I’m here, I find it suits me more than I thought it would. My sister died eight months ago after a very long battle. She left me the store, which I did consider selling, but now that I’ve met Bill, I’ve decided to stay.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your sister.”
“Thank you. It’s been a tough year, but Bill has brought an element of hope and renewal to my life. I really can’t imagine what I would do without him.”
I set my purse on the counter and pulled out a note pad. “So your sister passed away, and your friend, Lori, suggested that you approach Ms. Cupid about finding your perfect match.”
She nodded. “I was feeling lost and conflicted after my sister passed. I sort of felt like a castaway without a clear destination in sight. Then Lori suggested I start dating. I hadn’t dated at all since moving to Foxtail Lake to help my sister. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, but Lori can be persuasive, and after a time, she wore me down. As I’ve already said, she goaded me into filling out the application and answering the interview questions. They were so absurd that I really held out very little hope that this matchmaking service was even legit, but I figured that I didn’t have a lot to lose.”
“And how long did it take to get a date?” I asked.
“About a month. I didn’t hear back from Ms. Cupid for several weeks, and when I did, it was to provide me with a time and place to meet my date. I know the specifics of the date are orchestrated to provide the greatest chance of a successful outcome. For Bill and me, Ms. Cupid arranged a dinner date at Lamour.”
I knew that Lamour was a high-end restaurant about thirty miles east of Foxtail Lake.
“I take it the date went well.”
She pursed her bright red lips. “Very well. Bill moved to Foxtail Lake about eight years ago after his uncle left him his dental practice, but he’s originally from New York. I lived in New York for a few years when I was in my twenties, so we had a lot to talk about. Bill and I seemed to bond over our common experience of moving to a small town from a large city to take over a small business from a family member. He divorced shortly before moving to Foxtail Lake, and I never married, but I think we were both looking to make a connection. We ended up talking late into the evening and have been together ever since. I’m not sure how Ms. Cupid did it, but I truly suspect she found the one man in the area who I seem to be perfectly matched with.”
It did sound as if Bill and Della were as well matched as any couple could be. I asked Della if Bill had signed up for Ms. Cupid’s service or if he had simply been approached after she’d signed up, and she told me that a friend of Bill’s had signed him up as a birthday gift, and he’d decided to take a chance and go with it.
After I completed my interview with Della, I continued down the street to keep my appointment with Bill. He shared with me an experience very similar to Della’s, and like Della, he seemed happy and appreciative of everything Ms. Cupid had done to enrich his life. After a brief interview with the man, I could sense that he and Della probably were a good match.
Once I finished my interview with Bill, I headed toward the house where Dale Conover lived. Since Dale worked out of a home office, Lissa felt it would be best for us to meet at his home, where a quick chat would provide the least disruption to his workday. I’d hoped to speak to them separately, but Lissa had insisted on a joint interview, so I agreed.
When I turned off the highway and onto the road leading into the neighborhood where Dale lived, I noticed black smoke billowing into the sky. I really hoped the smoke wasn’t billowing up from Dale’s home, but the sight of a woman wearing a Food Mart uniform standing in front of the house, which by this point was totally engulfed in flames, seemed to indicate that it was indeed Dale’s home that was on fire.
I parked and jumped out of the car. I made a beeline for the woman who was standing in a snowdrift sobbing uncontrollably. “Are you Lissa Nixon?”
She turned and looked at me. “I am. Who are you?”
“Callie Collins. We spoke on the phone. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I showed up for our meeting and found the house on fire. It was already too hot to get inside, so I called 911. The 911 operator told me that someone else had already seen the flames and called the fire in and that the fire crew would be here shortly. They pulled up before I even got off the phone.”
“Was anyone inside?”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear. Dale was expecting me. I hope he’s okay, but if he wasn’t inside, then where is he?” Her eyes darted from side to side as she frantically looked around.
I had to admit that it seemed likely that Dale had been inside the house when it caught on fire. If he had been home when the fire started, why hadn’t he had time to get out?