It was Wednesday afternoon when Jake strode into his restaurant, bike helmet in one hand and shopping bags in the other. He was in a reasonably good mood until Johnny announced, "Jake, you just missed a call."

"Who from?"

The waiter sifted through the pile of post-it notes on the small reception desk, looking more doubtful by the second. "What was her name, again?"

Jake tried not to show his impatience. "Did you know her? Was it a customer, supplier, or friend?"

Johnny shrugged and gave up looking through the post-its. "Sorry, I can't find it."

"Was her name Ebony, by any chance?"

"Yes. Yes, it was!"

Ebony actually called.

And now her number was gone.

Jake had lost his phone four days ago. He'd feared that Ebony had called his old mobile, and after hearing it was disconnected she'd never bothered calling back.

"Move aside," Jake said. He nudged Johnny aside and began sorting through every scrap of paper, every page in the notebook, and every business screen on the iPad. Fifteen minutes passed and he gave up searching. Work called. In ten minutes, he had a meeting with a coach company. If he could secure this contract Sinclair's would be back on track during the winter months. Lunch hours would be brimming with bus-loads of tourists. It might very well be the solution he'd been searching for—Mrs Harrostone had rarely steered him down the wrong path. Although, that was debatable when it came to Ebony. The fortune teller had foreseen more meetings for Jake and the mysterious girl. When Ebony had accepted his card, it had been a long shot. Now that he'd lost her number, seeing Ebony was akin to seeing the Tooth Fairy.

Striding into the office, he locked the door and dumped his things onto his desk. He dialled Mrs Harrostone and explained the situation. The fortune teller's lacklustre response did not give him hope, "I'm sorry, Jake. She never made another appointment, so I never got her number."

"Did she mention where she works, at least?"

"She might have." Silence. "But I don't think I should give out that information."

He scoffed, knowing he sounded ungrateful, but he hadn't felt this desperate in years. Two years, precisely, when he'd begged Mel to stay. Mel had walked out the door, her possessions already loaded into their car. He hadn't seen her since the day they had signed the papers a year and a half ago—the second worst day of his adult life. Looking back on it now, he'd been a fool to beg. "I guess you're right."

"Remember, Jake," she said. "The week is not over, yet. I said to give it until Friday. Ebony might call back. You did make quite an impression on her when you fixed her bracelet. People don't tend to forget such acts of kindness."

"I have a lot less faith than you do. People move on with their lives. Random acts of kindness become memories they recall from time to time. Nothing more."

"Maybe so. But if you don't find Ebony and you feel the time has come to meet somebody new, perhaps you should try the matchmaking agency down the road."

Jake tried not to grumble. "You mentioned that Friday. I don't think that's for me."

"Ebony was the exception?"

"I suppose she was," Jake said, surprising himself.

"Well, it's up to you, Jake. Whichever path you choose, I'm sure it will be the right one—whether you bump into Ebony somewhere, or go to the matchmakers at Kismet."

"Kismet? You do realise that they're one of my biggest competitors, given that their restaurant The Peach Tree is a five-minute drive from mine. They use it specifically for clients to have their first dates, and clients tend to go back more than once. If I joined up with the agency, I would have to set foot in that restaurant. I don't think I could do it."

"Why? You could scope out the competition and meet someone nice."

"I think you might be onto something with that first idea."

"You're not so fond of the 'meeting someone nice?"

Not particularly, thought Jake. He'd already met somebody nice. The problem was he'd lost her phone number—or his staff had. "I don't know."

"You know my advice, Jake. That's all I can offer. Will I be seeing you at your normal time?" she asked, voice catching.

Had he upset her? He had been a fraction harsh. "I'll be there. Thank you, Mrs Harrostone."

"Best of luck to you, Jake." Then she hung up, leaving him staring at the phone.

The day went quickly. He'd tried to rein in his dark mood with the staff. Someone in his employ had lost a very important post-it note! But the meeting with the coach company had gone reasonably well. Although, they hadn't committed to a deal. No contracts had been properly discussed. And it had left Jake feeling desperate again.

It was ten o'clock that evening when he walked out onto his back deck, a beer bottle in hand. He glanced over the paths that separated vegetable patches, which curved down the hill where the deck lights failed to illuminate.

"Hey, man," Bailey called over the fence.

Jake squinted down to his right, unsurprised to see Bailey's head peeking over the timber fence. Bailey wasn't hard to miss. He had a whole head full of long blond dreadlocks tied into a ponytail. He was wearing a white work shirt which always looked at odds with the bohemian hair and facial piercings. Bailey was a waiter at The Peach Tree of all places. Jake had been trying to get Bailey over to Sinclair's for years. Bailey wouldn't have it.

"Hey, Bails. How was The Peach Tree tonight?"

"Rough."

"Yeah?"

"I had to drive one of the clients from Kismet to the hospital after she had an allergic reaction. She looked sick, man. I mean, Zara was cute, or she would have been if she wasn't covered in a blistery rash and hyperventilating the whole time."

Jake raked his hair, fearing the worst. "Was she okay?"

Bailey climbed the fence and balanced upon it, lighting up a rollie. "I 'spose so. I had to go back to work."

"You left her at the hospital? Alone?"

"I stayed for a bit. But the restaurant owners get all haughty if we start slacking off."

"You mean that Rose Reynold's woman?"

"Yep. And the Maître 'd, Evan. He fully lost it at me when I returned, even though I'd saved his ass by taking Zara to the hospital."

"What did you do?"

"I quit. I don't need that shit. I'd rather be poor until you give me my first pay."

Jake laughed. "Welcome aboard. You start tomorrow."

Bailey nodded gratefully. "Just remember that we've been friends since high-school when you're about to order me around."

"I'll try. Can't promise it won't happen, though."

Bailey shrugged, as if he knew it was as inevitable as Jake did. "What about your day?"

"Intense." Jake relayed the meeting with the coach company and the lost phone number by an incompetent staff member. He even admitted that he'd been visiting Mrs Harrostone for two years.

"So, you met this girl Ebony in a fortune teller's office, and the fortune teller said you and this girl were destined to be together. You know that's crazy, man."

"Yeah, I know." Jake took a swig of beer and looked out over his lettuce patch. There were about ten varieties of lettuce there. But he only really liked one.

"Don't tell me you believe the fortune teller?"

Jake shrugged.

"Then it sucks that you lost this Ebony's number," Bailey said, staring pensively into the shadows. "I know an Ebony. I asked her out a few times. She shot me down so fast I was actually scared to ask out another girl for weeks. I've never experienced that before."

That sounded like something Ebony would do, thought Jake. "Hey, I remember now. Didn't you say she was one of the matchmakers from Kismet?"

"That's the one. It probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. She's way too uptight for me. I like chilled, real chilled."

"Uptight?" Jake smiled. "The Ebony I met was really uptight. Does your Ebony have shoulder-length black hair and big hazel eyes?"

Bailey nodded. "Petite? Wears business dresses and heels? Glasses on occasion?"

"I don't know about the glasses, but the rest of it sounds exactly right!" Jake walked down to the fence and passed Bailey his bottle. "And she's a matchmaker . . . " He shook his head. "The girl I met couldn't be a matchmaker. She has this wretched vow of no relationships, dates, or anything. She seems perfectly happy not to touch another human being for a very long time."

"If it is the same Ebony, then that actually makes her rejection not so bad. I thought it was just me she was repelled by."

"It might have been you." Smiling, Jake took his back drink and took a few sips as he paced up and down the pathway.

"Thanks. Though it probably explains why she's the worst matchmaker in history. From what I've seen over the past six months, all of her clients hate each other. That Zara girl tonight, with the allergy, she was one of Ebony's clients. The girl's date was a total jerk. Ebony must have no clue how to pick a good guy." Bailey nodded in agreement with himself. "After all, she did overlook me."

Jake looked Bailey up and down. "I see your point." Bailey really didn't need encouragement. His ego was as fit as ever. By the sound of it, Ebony's ego had to be at an all-time low, and it made him more desperate to find her. Tomorrow he would go down to Kismet. If she ignored him, he would just have to book himself into the agency like Mrs Harrostone had suggested. Ebony would have no choice but to see him.

Kismet Matchmaking Agency . . .

The fortune teller's words rang in his mind: "But if you don't find Ebony . . . perhaps you should try the matchmaking agency down the road."

Jake shook his head, wanting to scream out loud. Mrs Harrostone had given him the clue to finding Ebony. It had been staring him in the face for almost a week.

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