Dear Mr. Temporary Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  The Matchmaker Series

  Book Hangover Lounge

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Rebecca Gallo

  About the Author

  Dear Mr. Temporary

  The Matchmaker Series

  Copyright © 2019 Rebecca Gallo

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Dear Mr. Temporary is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Dandelion Cover Designs

  Editing by Jenny Sims, Editing 4 Indies

  Formatting by Dandelion Cover Designs

  To paraphrase Paul Sanchez:

  This one goes out to my Honey Bunny

  The invitation to my sister’s wedding arrived, and despite its simple elegance, it was still ostentatious and over the top. Maybe that was because I knew each invitation was hand-lettered and the gold accents were actual 24-karat gold leaf.

  “Mr. and Mrs. James Hall IV request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Sadie Louise to Jacob Michael Hall.”

  I rolled my eyes as I read the invitation because only my sister would marry someone with the same last name to avoid the inconvenience of having to change hers. The wedding date was more than six months away, but since this would be the event of the year and attendance was mandatory, the invitations were sent out well in advance.

  I scanned the rest of the details. A sunset ceremony on the rooftop terrace of the Four Seasons St. Louis. Cocktail hour and gourmet reception to follow. No expense would be spared for Sadie’s big day. Except…where was my response card? My plus one?

  I resisted the urge to grit my teeth and stomp my foot like a child. This was typical Sadie. Slamming the invitation down on my kitchen counter, I reached for my cell phone and called my mother.

  “Hello, Layne,” my mother greeted me coolly.

  “Hello, Mother. I just got Sadie’s wedding invitation in the mail.”

  She sucked in a breath, and I pictured the look of sheer delight that most likely crossed her face. Planning the society wedding to end all society weddings was Samantha Hall’s idea of heaven. “Isn’t it exquisite? So stunning and elegant, exactly the kind of wedding we’re planning for Sadie and Jacob.”

  “It’s beautiful, but I think something was left out of mine.”

  Ever the drama queen, my mother gasped. “Oh no! I cannot believe something like that would happen. What’s missing? We paid a fortune for these invitations.”

  “My response card is missing.”

  On the other end, my mother actually cackled with relief. “Oh, Layne! Is that all? Well, it’s your sister’s wedding! Of course, you’re coming.”

  “Don’t I get the option of bringing a date?”

  “Well, I didn’t know you were seeing someone. It’s been so long since you had a steady boyfriend.”

  I wanted to scream in frustration. To my mother and sister, getting married to the right man was an absolute necessity in life, and the fact that I chose my career over marriage was unthinkable to them. “I’m not,” I replied tightly. “But the wedding is six months away. Anything could happen.”

  “Sweetie, I’m simply not willing to sacrifice an extra seat because you may or may not have a boyfriend in a year. This wedding is far too important. You understand, don’t you?”

  My lips formed a tight line. “Of course, Mother. Good night.”

  Frustrated, I ended the call and then spun on my heel, looking for something, anything that I could hurl against the wall because this was so typical. Honestly, it was hard for me to believe that anything my mother and sister did still upset me.

  That night, I promised myself that come hell or high water, I was going to have a date for my sister’s wedding, and he would be the most spectacular fucking date. He would blow Jacob Hall away. I just had to find him.

  * * *

  The next morning, I called one of my best friends, Milly Hanson. She was currently living her best life abroad, shagging some hot British dude. But she also wrote an article for a magazine about an old-school matchmaker. I calculated the time difference to make sure that I wasn’t calling at a weird hour.

  “Hey girl,” Milly answered enthusiastically. “Long time, no talk!”

  “I’m so sorry, Milly. I’ve been swamped at the firm.”

  She laughed because, as college roommates and Mi Alpha Alpha sorority sisters, Milly was all too familiar with my workaholic personality.

  “I know you, Layne. You never settle until you’re at the top. What’s going on?”

  I sighed and chewed nervously on my bottom lip. “Sadie is getting married. It’s in six months and it’s going to be a fucking nightmare, and I don’t have a date.”

  “Relax, Layne. It’s six months away! You have plenty of time.”

  “No, I don’t Milly. That’s why I need your help. Do you still have the contact information of that matchmaker you wrote about?”

  “Grace Graham? Yeah, I have it around here somewhere.”

  “Awesome! Can you send me her email address? I think it’s time to outsource a date.”

  “Oh, Layne,” Milly said sharply. “Grace doesn’t believe in email. If you want her help, you’ll have to send her a letter. Like an honest to god ink-on-paper letter. And no typed bullshit either. The letter has to be hand-written.”

  I groaned. “Are you kidding me? I don’t have time to write a goddamn letter!”

  “It’s the only way she does things, Layne. She said that a person who’s serious about finding love will take the time to write a letter and let their feelings flow through the pen.”

  “It sounds like a bunch of bullshit.”

  “She has a one-hundred percent success rate, so she must be doing something right.”

  From my office window, St. Louis stretched out before me. I felt like a queen high in my castle except I was clearly missing a king. Even a temporary one. Suddenly, a man was the most important thing in my life. And I didn’t even know who he was! “Fine,” I said reluctantly. “Send me her information.”

  “Already waiting for you in your inbox.”

  Sure enough, a new email alert popped up on my screen.

  “Thanks, Milly. You might have saved my life.”

  I managed to leave the office at a decent hour and decided to stop by a stationery store. Ms. Grace Graham, matchmaker extraordinaire, wanted a hand-written letter. I perused the small shop until I found the perfect stationery with perfectly understated floral accents and a new set of pens. As I handed over my credit card to the cashier, I hoped all this was worth the trouble.

  Dear Ms. Graham –

  My friend Milly Hanson provided me with your contact information because I need help finding a date to my sister’s wedding….

  I crumpled up the sheet of expensive stationery and tossed it onto the floor. That sounded horrible. Based on what Milly told me, Grace Graham respected people who were serious and honest; that’s why she asked prospective clients to send hand-written letters. Fi
ne. I could be serious and honest.

  Dear Ms. Graham –

  I’m not looking for love. In fact, the idea of a man being the most important thing in my life right now makes me want to puke. But I need a date for my sister’s wedding. My mother and sister place the utmost value in marrying the right man and having the best of everything. They’re currently planning what is to be the most extravagant wedding in St. Louis. They think so little of me that when I received my invitation in the mail, they didn’t even bother including the response card. I don’t get to pick between beef, chicken, or fish, and I don’t get a plus one. I cannot go to this wedding alone. I would be sacrificing myself to a pack of hungry wolves.

  I’m a lawyer, and some might say I’m a workaholic. But I love my job. I love the law. In fact, I’m the youngest junior partner in the history of my firm. I’m also an avid runner. I get up early in the morning to run in Forest Park and see the sunrise. It’s my favorite part of the day, when the city is just waking up and it’s completely bathed in the golden-pink glow of the sun. I don’t have any pets, but eventually, I’d love a dog. Some big, hairy, slobbery mutt who takes up half the bed. And I love to entertain. I love having my friends over and cooking for them. There’s something about having my house filled up with the sounds of laughter and conversation.

  As I said, I’m not looking for love. Just someone temporary who can help me shoulder the burden of a wedding weekend with my family.

  Thank you for your help.

  Sincerely,

  Layne Hall

  I carefully folded the pieces of stationery and tucked them inside the matching envelope before sealing it and addressing it with the information Milly provided me.

  The next morning, I placed it in the mailbox located in the lobby of my building.

  Here goes nothing, as the envelope disappeared into the dark unknown.

  I wasn’t sure how long it would take Grace Graham to get back to me. I spent a week watching the mail like a hawk, and then after a while, I completely forgot all about it. Until a messenger showed up at my office a month later.

  “Layne, there’s a delivery for you,” my secretary, Kate, said, popping her head into my office.

  I stood, smoothing out my skirt, and then followed her into the lobby. The messenger clutched a creamy white envelope in his hand while he leaned against the receptionist’s desk.

  “I’m Layne Hall,” I told him, reaching out for the clipboard he held. He pointed at a spot on the delivery slip, and I scribbled my name.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing me the envelope before dashing into the elevator.

  I flipped the envelope over in my hand, examining the elegant script on the front. I frowned and wondered what event my mother was inviting me to now. I slipped my finger under the flap and pulled out a piece of heavy cream-colored stationery. At the top was an elegant monogram in gold. GG. I gasped and clutched the letter to my chest. Grace Graham! I hurried back to my office, closed and locked the door, and then sat down. My heart beat thunderously in my chest. Oh, my god! Oh, my god!

  Why was I so nervous? I only asked her to find a temporary solution to my problem, so why did it feel like I was holding the weight of the world in my hands?

  I finally worked up the courage to read her reply to my letter.

  Dear Ms. Hall –

  Enclosed you will find the details of your match. I’ve omitted personal information about your potential match for now but have provided you with some basic information. I hope that you’ll trust and understand that I have your best interest at heart, and in order to make the most of your potential match, I recommend adhering to the following rules:

  All correspondence between matches must be done via hand-written letters mailed to a post office box. Responses will be hand-delivered via messenger within twenty-four hours of receipt.

  A minimum of three letters exchanged before a face-to-face date is arranged.

  Any additional correspondence (flowers, gifts, etc.) is completely optional.

  If you agree to the above terms, please sign and return the enclosed form. Since you didn’t include any information about your potential match, I went with my gut instinct and selected someone who’s been in my database for quite some time. I wish you the best of luck on your journey to find love.

  Sincerely,

  Grace Graham

  I shuffled the papers around to find the one that required my signature. The lawyer in me screamed to read it over before signing it while the woman in me hastily signed my name without a second thought. I shoved it into the envelope provided and set it aside. Time to get to the good stuff. Who had Grace Graham matched me with?

  His name was “Mr. Temporary,” and he was a lawyer in his mid-30s. Mr. Temporary, huh? There was a good chance I already knew him, and immediately, I started mentally ticking off the names of single lawyers in the city. He liked pizza and bourbon but loved coffee and the St. Louis Cardinals.

  A man after my own heart, I thought, glancing at the Cardinals mug on my desk. I was already on my third cup of the day.

  He hated country music, valued honesty and a sense of humor, and owned his own home.

  Mr. Temporary sounded like a winner. Eager to get to know him, I started writing my first letter.

  Dear Mr. Temporary,

  According to the information sent to me, you’re a lawyer. I wonder if we already know each other? Have I stood across from you in the courtroom? Have I heard you make a passionate and compelling closing argument? Or better yet, have I sat beside you at a Cardinals game? My father has had season tickets since I was a baby. What do you think about the Redbirds acquiring Paul Goldschmidt from the Arizona Diamondbacks? It’s all my father seems to talk about.

  I don’t know what Grace told you about me, but I want to be honest with you. I contacted her because I need a date for my sister’s wedding. If you live in St. Louis, then there’s a good chance you might hear about it because it’s going to be this big giant thing. My sister is the oldest, and even though I’m a lawyer and the youngest junior partner in my firm’s history, nothing compares to her. She’s the golden child of the family. So I hope that you’re at least willing to do battle with me. My mother and sister are formidable opponents.

  I look forward to getting to know you.

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Black Sheep

  Dear Ms. Black Sheep –

  Let’s face it, the Cardinals won the free agent lottery when they got Goldschmidt from the Dbacks. He’s a consistent offensive force, and we need that! We’re going to give Chicago and Milwaukee a run for their money this year. Watch out Cubbies, the Redbirds are coming for ya!

  I know very little about you, aside from your need for a date. Grace did mention that but nothing else. She has a knack for matching people that’s otherworldly. If she thinks that you and I are perfect together, then she has my complete trust and faith. Besides, she matched up my brother and his wife, and he’s an asshole. So she must know what she’s doing if she can find him a soul mate!

  I feel like I should return your honesty. Grace has been trying to help me for a while; for whatever reason, she hasn’t been able to find me “the one.” I like the fact that you’re a lawyer; you understand the late nights and the dedication. I’m committed to not just doing my job but also to being the best at my job. I wondered the exact same thing you did – if we had ever been in the courtroom together. We probably do know each other; this legal community is small.

  Only two more letters to go, and then I can officially ask you out on a date. Tell me your ideal first date, and I’ll try to make it happen.

  Yours,

  Mr. Temporary

  Mr. Temporary’s writing was neat and angular. None of it seemed rushed; there were no mistakes crossed out or slight deviations. No, it looked like my match took his time composing his response to my letter. My heart thumped appreciatively.

  I’d never given much thought to my ideal first date before, but between working on
cases, I started to imagine it. There was so much to do and see in St. Louis. Of course, my first instinct was to say a Cardinals game. Going to games, indulging in hot dogs, nachos, and beer, and of course, yelling obscenities at the players were some of my favorite hobbies. If you can handle me in what my dad describes as “Redbirds rage,” then you could handle me anytime. But that’s not really a good first impression. And then it came to me. I got out a sheet of paper from my new stash of pretty stationery and started my response to Mr. Temporary.

  Dear Mr. T. –

  I pity the fool who has to date me.

  As requested, here’s my ideal first date:

  We’d meet for breakfast at Kingside Diner. It’s one of my favorites, and since I live in Central West End, it gives me home field advantage. I’d order avocado toast for breakfast, and you wouldn’t make fun of me because it’s damn delicious. I’d be flirty and offer you a bite.

  Then we’d hop in your convertible and take a drive on the Great River Road. The day would be absolutely perfect to have the top down too, and I wouldn’t give a damn about it messing up my hair because you remembered to bring an extra Cardinals baseball cap. You’ve also packed an amazing picnic lunch for us, which is why I ate avocado toast for breakfast. I don’t want to get too full!

  We talk about our jobs, maybe compare cases that we’ve tried, and about the Cardinals shot of making it into the World Series this year (they’re going all the way this year, no doubt), and the conversation doesn’t stall. It just flows from one topic to the next. When we stop to enjoy that picnic lunch, you surprise me with a bottle of zinfandel because you know it’s my favorite. The wine makes me a little uninhibited, so while we enjoy a short stroll along the river, I let you steal a kiss or two.