“I remembered the bag. I was down at The Wrap getting my dinner tonight, and I asked Don and Becky about that night. When Becky saw the bracelet, she knew it belonged to you.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It is.” He craned his neck. “What is it y’all are trying to hide back there?”
“Nothing.” She blocked his view and shrugged it off.
He stepped back toward the doorway and pointed to the picture on the wall. “Looks like some kind of video,” he said. “See the reflection?”
They froze. Two people had never looked so guilty.
Carina’s eyes widened, then she spun around in her chair. “Dang.”
“I overheard something in the hall. I didn’t mean to. I was just in earshot as I was walking up.”
A very clear “THANK YOU, WHITNEY” suddenly blared from the computer.
Carina cringed. “Sorry, I meant to hit mute.”
“What is it?” He walked around the desk next to Carina and started laughing. “Are they talking about you? Do you host a dating app or something?”
“No, we do not,” Whitney said. “It’s all a huge coincidence.”
“Wait. Are they talking about—? Ha! Did they just call y’all the Fixie Chicks?” He laughed.
“It isnotfunny.” The videos continued to play. One after the other.
“I’m sorry.” He tried to gather his composure but was hopelessly failing at it. “Come on, you have to admit, it’s a little funny.” He leaned forward. “Savvy Sisters Matchmakers? You two are sisters?”
“Sisters-in-law,” Carina corrected him.
“Now thatisfunny.” He was clearly amused. “Sisters-in-law who are practicing law? And matchmaking?”
“How did you two meet again?” Carina asked.
“Even a bigger coincidence than that… that… stupid video.” Whitney gave Carina the quick version of their accidental meeting during the storm, and then Matthew filled in the part about meeting Mr. and Mrs. Winters at the gallery and Mom insisting he come see where she planned to hang all that artwork, when he officially met Whitney. Sort of.
“You’re the new artist?” Carina commented. “I love that painting in the second-floor conference room.”
“Thank you. We hung that one the night I met her.” He pointed to Whitney. “It was a no-brainer. Although, I’m not a new artist. New to Mrs. Winters, perhaps, but I’ve been a full-time artist for several years now.”
Carina lifted a finger to her lips. “Wait, Whitney, I thought you said some homeless guy knocked you over that night.”
“Ha!” Matthew shouldn’t have been surprised. Hehadlooked horrible. By the time he saw himself when he got home, after running through the rain and wiping down with paper towels, it was bad. He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like before.
“I’m sorry,” Carina said. “You are obviously anything but homeless. Am I getting this mixed up?”
“No.” Whitney’s eyes widened. “He was. Well, he’s not, but that night he was covered in dirt. He did not?—”
“Paint,” he corrected.
“Paint?”
He nodded.
“Well, then alotof paint. You were more paint than person that night.” Whitney defended her position.
“I was trying to get out of there before I got struck by lightning. The storm blew the paint cans from the scaffold. Yeah, I had no idea how big a mess I was until I got home to get dressed for the gallery.”
