Free The Matchmaker by Marita Conlon-Mckenna Page B

‘I’m big into those kind of places myself!’
    Sitting up at her own computer later that night typing a story she was making up for Evie about a dog and listening to the lashing rain and gusting winds outside, Sarah found herself genuinely relieved to know that Angus was only a minute or two away.

Chapter Fourteen
    Grace checked the table one last time. The ultra-modern Finnish cutlery, linen napkins, her good crystal glasses, Meadows and Byrne candles, two stems of green leaves with a showy splash of red ginger stems, all set out perfectly on her dark walnut table with its classic elegant lines.
    As the tantalizing smell of food wafted from the kitchen she stifled her hunger pangs, knowing she didn’t want to spoil her appetite by snacking and tasting too much of the meal she was preparing. There were salmon fishcakes, Shane’s favourites, which she had shaped with the cooked fish and egg and breadcrumbs and seasoning, all ready to heat and serve on a small bed of tossed leaves. To follow there was fillet of pork done in calvados with apple rings and a baked mixture of sweet potato and carrots. For dessert she had made a coffee cake. It had turned out perfectly and sat temptingly on her big blue ceramic plate. The room was bathed in low candlelight, Sinatra was playing in the background, an expensive Merlot was already open and a Chablis was chilling in the fridge. They say the way to a man’s heart is a good home-cooked meal – well tonight she hoped that it was true as she really wanted to impress Shane. She enjoyed entertaining, having friends around for supper and drinks, but this meal was strictly dinner à deux.
    Yesterday had been Shane’s thirty-fifth birthday and she’d been annoyed when he told her that he was going for a business dinner with a client and the invitation had not been extended to include her.
    ‘We can celebrate it another time,’ he’d told her as if it wasn’t that important. Well, they would just have to have a private birthday party, she’d decided, and had cooked his favourite meal, splurged out on some good wine and had left the office early to ensure she had plenty of time for preparation. She’d been delighted when he had jumped at her offer of an intimate dinner for two instead of eating out. The fact he was happy to stay in for a romantic evening was certainly a step in the right direction.
    She’d known Shane for years. He’d been ahead of her in college, the golden boy, an architect who could do no wrong. On qualification she had done a three-year stint in Hunt Brown, specializing in reclaiming derelict buildings in some of the city’s run-down areas, turning old mills, factories and churches into bright innovative living spaces. Approached by Thornton’s, one of the city’s biggest and brightest architectural practices, she had accepted a job offer from Derek Thornton to come and join the firm. Her path once more crossed with Shane O’Sullivan as they now worked for the same firm. Shane was living with a stunning-looking girl called Ruth Liddy, who was a journalist for the
Irish Times
, while Grace was happily dating an eager young barrister called Fintan Dywer.
    Shane was always professional, polite and charming and when they had been paired two years later to work on a new hotel project in Barcelona for one of their big Irish clients, she was delighted. However, a few weeks into the job, after a pretty drunken night in the historic Els Quatre Gats restaurant, as they held hands and walked through Barcelona’s Barri Gòtic in search of a taxi-cab, Shane had admitted that Ruth and he had broken up a few months earlier and that Ruth had taken off travelling around South America. Grace had read a few of her pieces in the
Irish Times
entitled ‘Footloose and Fancy Free’, envying Ruth’s ability to just pack up and go travelling and exploring on her own.
    ‘So much for being a happy couple,’ he said drunkenly. ‘Ruth and I just wanted different