"When you bought this monstrosity," Heather said, "did you think about having to get it up these stairs?"

Alison looked at the massive Victorian armchair she'd scored from a seller on craigslist, then looked up at the stairs leading to her second-floor condo. Okay, so it wasn't exactly going to be a piece of cake to haul it up there. She'd picked it up after work, and Heather had offered to help her move it upstairs. Of course, that was before she found out the sheer depth, breadth, and width of it.

Yeah, it was huge, but the moment Alison saw it, she had to have it. It had a carved rosewood crest with flowers, leaves, and nuts. Cabriole legs. Gold damask upholstery with diamond tufting. Just sitting in it made Alison feel as if she'd come home.

"We're powerful women," she told Heather. "We can do this."

"A powerful man could do it better. Tony will be home in a few hours. Why don't we wait until then?"

"So what am I supposed to do with it in the meantime? Have a seat in it out here and wait for him?"

"We could put it back in your car."

"We almost didn't get it out of my car," Alison said. "Now, come on. You pull from the top, and I'll hoist from the bottom."

With a roll of her eyes, Heather lifted her end, and Alison lifted hers. They started up the stairs. The trouble was that neither one of them could see where they were going-Alison because the chair was between her line of sight and the stairs, and Heather because she was walking backward. And that made for slow going.

"Okay, wait," Alison said when they were halfway up. "I have to rest a minute."

She set the chair down on one of the steps and took a deep breath.

"I suppose it is kind of pretty," Heather said. "If you're into old stuff."

"It's more than just pretty," Alison said. "It's all original and in almost perfect condition. You don't find them like this one every day."

"But don't you already have a chair like it?"

"I'm thinking ahead. One of these days I'm going to have a house with lots of rooms to furnish. If I see something I like at a good price, I'm going to buy it."

"Ready to go again?" Heather said.

"Yep. Let's do it."

Alison started to lift her end of the chair, but Heather wasn't joining her in the effort. Instead she was looking over Alison's shoulder toward the parking lot.

"What?" Alison said.

"The Wicked Witch of the West just rode up on her broom."

Alison looked over her shoulder. "The Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Oh, did I say that? I meant Judith just drove up in her Volvo."

"Well, crap. Wonder what she wants?"

Judith got out of her car and walked to the bottom of the stairs. "Alison, I have to talk to you."

"We're kinda in the middle of something here," Alison said, "so it's going to be a minute. But if you'd like to help us get this chair up the stairs, we can talk that much sooner."

"No. I'm not in a big hurry. I'll wait."

Thanks a bunch, Judith.

Heather and Alison managed to maneuver the chair the rest of the way up the stairs and into Alison's living room. Judith climbed the stairs behind them.

"Okay, Judith," Alison said, brushing her hands together. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

"I got your e-mail that the owner of 614 State Street agreed to let us use his house. You said the owner's name was Brandon Scott. But it wasn't until I drove by that I realized you were talking about Rochelle Scott's house." She frowned. "He's her grandson."

"Yes, I know," Alison said.

"He's not a good person."

Alison came to attention. "What are you talking about?"

"Rochelle and I were acquainted through the First Baptist Church," Judith went on. "It's a big congregation, so I didn't know her well, but I do remember her grandson when he was a teenager." Judith leaned in, her mouth set in a grim line of disapproval. "He was a juvenile delinquent."

Alison almost laughed out loud. Judith taught at a private Christian school, where chewing gum or being late to class was considered delinquent behavior.

"Exactly what are you calling delinquent?" Alison asked.

"Well, every time Rochelle brought him to church, he just sat there with an insolent look on his face. She tried to introduce him to people, but he barely spoke. And a few times I saw him in the parking lot smoking a cigarette."

Heather gasped. "Oh, good heavens! Tell me it isn't so! A teenage boy with an attitude smoking a cigarette? That never happens!"

"It was more than that," Judith said. "He came to live with Rochelle when he was sixteen years old, and there was never a more angry or disrespectful boy. He used to sass his grandmother. And stay out late. She had such a hard time with him."

"Brandon?" Alison said. "No. I think you're mistaken. He and his grandmother got along very well."

"Not from what I saw."

Suddenly Alison had the funniest feeling inside. Even if Brandon had changed, Judith's account of his teenage years didn't exactly fit in with the warm, loving relationship he'd led Alison to believe he'd had with his grandmother.

"I didn't know he actually lived with her," she said. "I just assumed his family lived near his grandmother's house and he visited her."

"I don't know where his family was, only that he stayed with Rochelle for a couple of years." Judith huffed with disgust. "And he wasn't a very nice boy."

"He was a kid back then," Heather said. "Cut him some slack."

"Rumor has it he once went to jail," Judith said.

"Jail?" Alison said, that sick feeling in her stomach intensifying. "What for?"

"They say he and another boy vandalized the school."

Alison drew a breath of relief. "Come on, Judith. Vandalism isn't exactly capital murder."

"It's still a crime. And there's something more."

"What's that, Judith?" Heather said on a sigh.

"He doesn't actually own the house."

"Don't be silly," Alison said. "His grandmother willed it to him. Of course he owns it."

"Wrong. I talked to some of the elders at the church. It seems Brandon can live there as long as he wants to, but if he chooses to leave, the house reverts to the First Baptist Church. They're the ones who actually hold title to it."

Alison had a funny feeling in her stomach, as if somebody wasn't telling the truth here, and it wasn't Judith. Then again, he'd never actually said he held title to the property, and if he never intended to leave, what was the difference whether he held title or not?

"From our point of view, that doesn't matter," Heather said. "Brandon has possession right now, so it's up to him if we use the house or not. And he's said we can."

"Did you know Brandon has taken over his grandmother's matchmaking business?" Alison said.

Judith froze. "Excuse me?"

"That's right. He's a matchmaker."

"A male matchmaker?"

"Yes. And he's doing everything he can to be a success at it. I don't care what he was back then. People change. He's a matchmaker now, Judith. Just like she was. Does that sound like a man who's hung on to his criminal tendencies from over ten years ago?"

Judith twisted her mouth with irritation, and Alison could tell she didn't want to give an inch. "I suppose not. I just think we should keep an eye on him where the tour is concerned."

"It's his house," Heather said. "What's he going to do? Steal something from himself?"

"I just thought you should know the kind of person we're dealing with," Judith said.

"Yes," Heather said. "A guy who's kind enough to offer us his house for the tour. If I were you, I'd thank him for that."

"It's just something to keep in mind," Judith said as she turned and walked away, clearly disappointed in the amount of chaos she'd been able to stir up.

Once she was gone, Heather turned to Alison. "He doesn't even own the place? Did he tell you that?"

"No," Alison said, a little worried. "But it's like you said. As long as he's living there, he gets to decide who comes and goes. And thanks for sticking up for Brandon."

"I only did it because I hate to see Judith going after anybody. If it were Judith versus Hitler, I'd stick up for Hitler. But Alison...doesn't it make you wonder a little?"

"Judith could have it wrong. She teaches at that pristine little private school. She doesn't know what a real juvenile delinquent is."

"Vandalism?"

"She said that was a rumor."

Heather nodded. "I'm inclined to think she's exaggerating about all of this, because Judith does that. But so much about Brandon just doesn't add up."

"In the end, does it really matter? It was more than ten years ago. Like you said. People change."

"That's true. But I thought he was taking over his grandmother's business because they were one big, happy family and he wanted to continue the tradition."

"Again," Alison said, "Judith could be exaggerating."

"Which is why I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Alison was happy to hear that from Heather. Alison wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, too. But still she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, and when she found out what it was, she wasn't sure she was going to like it.

On Saturday morning, Brandon grabbed a cup of coffee and a stack of files, and by the time he'd gone through a couple dozen on Alison's behalf, he was seriously considering-for about the tenth time-hiring a temp to put all this information into a database. Then he thought about what that would cost and kept on flipping. There were about a hundred things he could do to make this business a success over time, but he didn't have the time or the money for any of them. He was just going to have to wing it and hope for the best.

Then, just as frustration started to set in, he ran on to Zach Tyler. Judging from the notes in the file, he'd been one of his grandmother's networking contacts two months before her death. He was the chief operating officer for a nonprofit agency that raised funds for cancer research, which probably meant the guy had a heart. Alison would like that.

Then he saw it. The deal breaker. He was a smoker. Crap.

But reading a little further, it said he was trying to quit. Brandon grabbed his phone and gave the guy a call. Fortunately, he was still unattached and looking for the right woman. And as it turned out, he'd been smoke free for a few months now, and he was optimistic he'd be able to continue that.

The next day, he came to Brandon's office so they could meet in person. Brandon talked to the man for a solid hour, trying to discern if there was anything about him that might blow up in Alison's face.

Nothing.

After Zach left his office, Brandon ran a background check him and it came up clean. Then he reached for his phone to let Alison know he had another match for her that he was highly recommending. She hesitated about the smoking thing, but when he told her that Zach was thirty years old, decent looking, had a good job, loved animals, and wanted a family, she decided maybe he was worth a shot.

He e-mailed each of them details about the other and held his breath. Two hours later, he had a match. Zach called Alison and asked her if she wanted to go to an exhibit opening at a local art gallery on Friday night, and she accepted. Thank God.

Of course, there was still the smoking thing. A lot of people tried to quit. How many actually succeeded?

No. He had to think positive. This was going to be her perfect date, leading to her perfect man, leading to her perfect life. Alison would get what she wanted, so when he left town a few months from now, he could do it with a clear conscience.

Then he thought about Delilah.

He'd told her to be patient, that finding a quality man for her would take time. But sooner or later he was going to have to stop the procrastination and tackle the issue of finding her a match, too. How he was going to do that, he didn't have a clue.

When Alison arrived at the gallery on Friday evening, she spotted Zach right away. He stood talking to a couple of people, looking smartly casual in a pair of jeans, a blue cotton shirt, and a sports coat. He was a nice-looking guy, with wavy brown hair just touching his collar in the back, and eyes so blue she could make them out from halfway across the room. He wasn't Greghandsome, but she certainly wasn't going to mind being seen with him. After all, what good did Greg's hotness do her when he was going to be spending the next umpteen years in prison?

Brandon had assured her that Zach was a regular altar boy where his background was concerned. There was the smoking thing, but if he truly was quitting, could she really hold that against him? No. Of course not. Still, she found herself glancing down at his coat pocket for a telltale bulge of a pack of cigarettes. Fortunately, she didn't see one.

No longer a smoker. Well dressed. Clean background. Good job. Those were good things. So why did she have such a bad feeling?

Fool me twice, shame on you. Fool me three times...

Or whatever.

She took an extradeep yoga breath and walked over to him. "Hi," she said, holding out her hand. "You must be Zach. I'm Alison."

"Alison. Hello." He gave her a smile, took her hand, and pulled her into an air kiss.

An air kiss. God, she hated those. But what could she expect? He'd invited her to a gallery opening. Flamboyantly artsy people abounded, and he appeared to be acquainted with a few of them. The only other people she knew who air kissed all over the place were...

She froze, memories sweeping through her of Richard Bodecker, Gay Biker in Denial. What if Zach was gay? Gay and not facing up to it?

No. She had to cut this out. He was clearly heterosexual. Richard had never looked quite right on that Harley, but she could see Zach hopping aboard one and zooming off into the sunset.