Read Online The Perfect Match by Kristan Higgins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristan Higgins
Ads: Link
of the AV cart. Bingo. “Just for the sake of conversation, who
is this future husband of mine?”
“You remember Candace, my old friend? She moved to Philadelphia
in 1955? They drove that enormous Packard?”
Honor gave her grandmother a quizzical look. “I wasn’t born
then, Goggy. So no, I don’t remember.”
“Well, before I married your idiot grandfather—”
“You make it sound so romantic.”
“Hush up and listen. Before I married your idiot grandfather, I
was engaged to Candace’s brother. He died in the war.” She gave Honor a regal,
suffering look, perfected from years of practice.
“I know, Goggy. It’s such a sweet, sad story.”
Goggy’s face softened. “Thank you. Anyway, Candace also had a
sister, but she was older and stayed in England.”
“Uh-huh.” What this had to do with matchmaking was anyone’s
guess, but such was the mind of Goggy. Honor unscrewed the burned-out lightbulb
with some difficulty.
“So this sister had a son, and then that son had a son, and
Candace just adores him, and anyway, the boy’s been living here for a few years
and he needs a green card.”
Honor squinted, trying to filter through the bundle of
facts.
“So you should marry him. Nothing wrong with an arranged
marriage.”
“As in, you and Pops worked out so well?” She opened the drawer
on the cart and took out a replacement bulb.
The old lady chuffed. “Please. You want to be married, or you
want to be happy?”
“Both?”
Goggy snorted. “You young people. So spoiled. Anyway, there’s
nothing wrong with this boy. He’s very nice and extremely good-looking.”
Honor screwed in the new lightbulb. “Have you ever met
him?”
“No. But he is.”
“Seen a picture?”
“No. Charming, too.”
“So you’ve talked to him on the phone?”
“No.”
“Facebook? Email?”
“No, Honor. You know I don’t believe in computers.”
“Hi there, Honor,” called Mr. Christian from the back of the
auditorium. “Heard you were in a girl fight the other day.”
“Thanks for bringing it up,” Honor said. “Anyway, Goggy, it
sounds like you really don’t know this person at all.”
“What’s to know? He’s British.”
“That may or may not help his case. If he sounds like Prince
Charles, there’s no way in hell I’ll marry him. Does he have those big
teeth?”
“Don’t be so superficial, honey! He’s a professor,” Goggy
added. “Electrical engineering or math or something.”
An image of Honor’s own math teacher in college, a damp man
with onion breath, came to mind.
“So he needs a green card,” Goggy said, “you’re single, and you
two should get married.”
“Okay, first of all, sure, I’d love to get married if I met
someone great and fell in love, but if that doesn’t happen, I’m fine on my own.”
Oh, the lies. “Secondly, I don’t want to get married just to check it off a
list. And thirdly, I’m pretty sure marrying for a green card is illegal.” She
paused. “Why doesn’t he just go back to England?”
“There was a tragedy.” Another triumphant look from Goggy.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter, Honor? You’re thirty-five.
That’s when the eggs start spoiling. That’s when I started menopause.” Oh, snap.
“Besides, if I can stay married to your grandfather for sixty-five years and not
have murdered him yet, why can’t you do the same with this boy?”
“How old is this person? You keep calling him a boy.”
“I don’t know. Anyone under sixty is a boy to me.”
“So he’s a math teacher and distantly related to an old friend
of yours, and that’s all you’ve got on him?”
Goggy waved to Mrs. Lunqvist. “Young people,” she called.
“They’re so fussy!” Mrs. Lunqvist, who used to terrorize the kids in Bible study
with tales of fiery devastation of Biblical cities, nodded in agreement. “So
you’ll meet him?”
What have you got to lose? the eggs
asked, looking up from their quilting. Didn’t
is this future husband of mine?”
“You remember Candace, my old friend? She moved to Philadelphia
in 1955? They drove that enormous Packard?”
Honor gave her grandmother a quizzical look. “I wasn’t born
then, Goggy. So no, I don’t remember.”
“Well, before I married your idiot grandfather—”
“You make it sound so romantic.”
“Hush up and listen. Before I married your idiot grandfather, I
was engaged to Candace’s brother. He died in the war.” She gave Honor a regal,
suffering look, perfected from years of practice.
“I know, Goggy. It’s such a sweet, sad story.”
Goggy’s face softened. “Thank you. Anyway, Candace also had a
sister, but she was older and stayed in England.”
“Uh-huh.” What this had to do with matchmaking was anyone’s
guess, but such was the mind of Goggy. Honor unscrewed the burned-out lightbulb
with some difficulty.
“So this sister had a son, and then that son had a son, and
Candace just adores him, and anyway, the boy’s been living here for a few years
and he needs a green card.”
Honor squinted, trying to filter through the bundle of
facts.
“So you should marry him. Nothing wrong with an arranged
marriage.”
“As in, you and Pops worked out so well?” She opened the drawer
on the cart and took out a replacement bulb.
The old lady chuffed. “Please. You want to be married, or you
want to be happy?”
“Both?”
Goggy snorted. “You young people. So spoiled. Anyway, there’s
nothing wrong with this boy. He’s very nice and extremely good-looking.”
Honor screwed in the new lightbulb. “Have you ever met
him?”
“No. But he is.”
“Seen a picture?”
“No. Charming, too.”
“So you’ve talked to him on the phone?”
“No.”
“Facebook? Email?”
“No, Honor. You know I don’t believe in computers.”
“Hi there, Honor,” called Mr. Christian from the back of the
auditorium. “Heard you were in a girl fight the other day.”
“Thanks for bringing it up,” Honor said. “Anyway, Goggy, it
sounds like you really don’t know this person at all.”
“What’s to know? He’s British.”
“That may or may not help his case. If he sounds like Prince
Charles, there’s no way in hell I’ll marry him. Does he have those big
teeth?”
“Don’t be so superficial, honey! He’s a professor,” Goggy
added. “Electrical engineering or math or something.”
An image of Honor’s own math teacher in college, a damp man
with onion breath, came to mind.
“So he needs a green card,” Goggy said, “you’re single, and you
two should get married.”
“Okay, first of all, sure, I’d love to get married if I met
someone great and fell in love, but if that doesn’t happen, I’m fine on my own.”
Oh, the lies. “Secondly, I don’t want to get married just to check it off a
list. And thirdly, I’m pretty sure marrying for a green card is illegal.” She
paused. “Why doesn’t he just go back to England?”
“There was a tragedy.” Another triumphant look from Goggy.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter, Honor? You’re thirty-five.
That’s when the eggs start spoiling. That’s when I started menopause.” Oh, snap.
“Besides, if I can stay married to your grandfather for sixty-five years and not
have murdered him yet, why can’t you do the same with this boy?”
“How old is this person? You keep calling him a boy.”
“I don’t know. Anyone under sixty is a boy to me.”
“So he’s a math teacher and distantly related to an old friend
of yours, and that’s all you’ve got on him?”
Goggy waved to Mrs. Lunqvist. “Young people,” she called.
“They’re so fussy!” Mrs. Lunqvist, who used to terrorize the kids in Bible study
with tales of fiery devastation of Biblical cities, nodded in agreement. “So
you’ll meet him?”
What have you got to lose? the eggs
asked, looking up from their quilting. Didn’t
Similar Books
