The Matchmaker Meets Her Match by Jenny Jacobs Page B

it’s made.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “But eventually it stops bothering you and then you don’t mind a nice sausage fry up on a Sunday.”
    “I’m sort of grossed out,” Rilka said, “and weirdly intrigued.”
    “I’m just saying you’re disillusioned. Everyone gets disillusioned. Then they either sink into bitter misery or they get over it.”
    “Good to know there are options,” Rilka said, and poured another glass of wine.
    • • •
    Rilka had just said goodnight to Jeremy and it was quite late, so she was surprised to hear her doorbell ring. She pulled open the door and Jeremy was there again.
    “What’s up?”
    He had Mrs. Olsen’s peekapoo in his lap. “I think something’s wrong,” he said, worry creasing his face. “I don’t see the old lady. Just the dog. And it’s really late.”
    She nodded. Mrs. Olsen and the dog ought to both be in bed by now. “I’ll call 911.”
    “I already did,” he said, holding up his cell phone. “I just wanted to wait here until they arrive. If you don’t mind.”
    “Of course not.”
    She went out on the front porch with him to wait. A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled up to the curb across the street. Rilka scooped the dog from Jeremy’s lap and followed him over as he went to explain the situation.
    As they approached, a slender blonde officer got out of the car and eyed Mrs. Olsen’s house, then gave them a glance. “You the one who called it in?” the cop said to Rilka. She wondered how many times a day Jeremy got that — people not even acknowledging him.
    “I’m the one who called 911,” Jeremy said.
    The officer glanced down at him, then listened as he explained, then nodded once, unhooked his flashlight from his belt, went up the walk, and started looking in windows.
    A moment later, he was back at his car, radioing a message in. When he was finished, he came back to where Rilka and Jeremy waited. “I see a body on the floor,” he said briefly.
    Rilka sucked a sharp breath in. She wasn’t close friends with Mrs. Olsen but she hated the thought of the old lady being hurt, with no one to notice.
    “Can we help?” Rilka asked.
    The officer shook his head before turning to go back up the walk. “No. Please stay back.”
    Rilka watched anxiously as he forced the door open and went inside, cautiously, hand on his weapon, as if he might encounter criminals. Jeremy reached over and took her free hand. She twined her fingers with his gratefully. The dog in her other arm whined pitifully but didn’t try to break free.
    “I think she had a heart attack,” Jeremy said. “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any desperadoes inside about to start shooting.”
    A little tension left her shoulders. She nudged the arm of his chair. “If there are any desperadoes, think I can outrun you?”
    She heard his short laugh. “You mean like the bear? You don’t have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun me?”
    “Exactly like the bear.”
    “I’m too much of a gentleman to outrun you.”
    “Such a thoughtful guy,” she said. Then the smile left her face as an ambulance pulled to the curb. The officer came to the front door of Mrs. Olsen’s house and called something to them. A few minutes later the old lady was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the EMTs working over her. The police officer said something to the driver and then the doors shut and the ambulance drove off.
    “I hope she’ll be all right,” Rilka said, reminded too forcefully of Gran, wax-pale and still on the last night of her life, leaving too soon, leaving before she had taught Rilka everything she needed to know. Although maybe that was selfish.
Oh, Gran. How I miss you.
    “Does Mrs. Olsen have relatives?” Jeremy asked.
    “Not that I know of. I’ll stop by the hospital in the morning, see how she’s doing.”
    “I was thinking of the dog,” Jeremy said. “Who’s going to take care of it?”
    Rilka was suddenly aware that she had the peekapoo cradled in her