Conversely Matched

  Conversely Matched

  Match Made in Heaven

  Ginny Sterling

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Perfectly Matched

  Hopefully Matched

  Also by Ginny Sterling

  About the Author

  Introduction

  A tale as old as time…

  Rose Bellavance was a woman down on her luck and wishing for a bit of magic in her life. Trapped in a dead-end job and working a second one to make ends meet, she escapes reality every chance she can - in a book.

  Jarrett Ariet is an angry, miserable man. When fate steps in and puts Rose directly in his path, he reacts as only a man with a monstrous personality can! Their two worlds collide, and for a brief moment, he feels what it is to truly love someone… just before he loses her.

  Can a bit of luck, a sprinkle of hope, and a twist of fate- teach these two lonely souls to find happiness together?

  1

  Rose Bellavance sighed heavily with exhaustion. She was burning the proverbial candle at both ends nowadays. Working full-time at the local library had always been enough to maintain her tidy, frugal lifestyle. She loved the scent of old books. The way the ink, paper, and dust clung in the air making the room feel like it had whispered stories to generations over the decades.

  There was nothing quite so wonderful as the archival section where you could gently flip through the old newspapers that were held in large binders carefully. They’d been scanned to microfiche and were available for as long as they held up. Occasionally she’d see some kid flinging the enlarged, heavy pages simply to create a mess – and it did- as the breeze would ruffle papers or the old papers would start to crumble. It made her gnash her teeth in aggravation and several deep breaths later, she would chase them away back to the other side of the library. Oh yes, the love of books was in her blood… until now.

  Her mother had come on hard times about two years ago. She’d fallen and broken her hip. The pins placed in the bone ached. It simply didn’t quite seem to heal right over time, making it impossible for her to work. A repossession of the car, an eviction notice, and several creditors calling – Rose had made the decision to have her mother move in with her. The tiny house for one, had suddenly become home to two.

  Her home had been full of little knickknacks and trinkets – pictures and collections she’d gathered over the years. Each item had a spot, everything had a home… until now. The shelves were full of both of their items, making it feel homey to the woman who’d raised her. The couch had not one, but two throws tossed casually upon the arm. Everything they couldn’t make room for, such as the sofa tables (because who needs two of them?), was sold off in a large garage sale and the funds were set aside for a rainy day.

  And when it rained… it poured.

  The monies they’d saved up were gone within months and Rose took a second job. Nothing glamorous, simply something quick and easy to pay the bills. She became a maid, working on call for an agency called Squeaky Shack. Their motto was that ‘No home was so perfect, that it didn’t need a Squeaky touch’. Their uniforms were bright white – once they yellowed from excessive bleach, you got a new one. They boasted and prided themselves on how ‘squeaky’ clean your home would be after one of their maids had finished… and this was the case for Rose. She had an arsenal of tools at her disposal to make sure that every nook and cranny was spotless. In return, she was paid very well with a bonus for each review she received.

  Rose was hooked.

  Cleaning was something she enjoyed anyhow. She liked the smell of beeswax polish on oak tables or lemon-scented cleaner for the floors. There was nothing more wonderful than having a sense of pride in maintaining your home – but keeping up others and getting paid handsomely for it… bonus! Tonight’s assignment was a favorite one she did every week and it wouldn’t take long. She knew deep down that she would be in and out of the home in a jiffy. This client had been hers for the last year.

  Each Friday evening, Mrs. Baker had Rose ‘spruce up’ her home before family or friends came to visit. The house was immaculate already but it made her feel better having a second set of eyes go over it. She’d won Mrs. Baker over on the first visit when Rose had pulled her toothbrushes from her tote and proceeded to remove the dust from a crease in the floorboards that she had spotted. Honestly, Rose had thought it might be a split in the wood when she saw the dark spot- but the attention to detail had landed her a star client on the spot… and Mrs. Baker tipped very, very nicely.

  Pulling up to the house, she put on her game-face and toted her bags up the steps, ready to go to work. As she got to the front door, her phone buzzed indicating she had a text message. Juggling the two plastic totes with her chemicals and tools for the job, she ignored her cell phone and the itch on her nose – smiling as the older woman answered the door in a welcoming manner.

  “Sweetie! Come in, please. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Rose grinned affectionately and walked inside, feeling almost guilty for getting paid to clean this woman’s immaculate home. White marble floors ran from the front of the house all the way to the enlarged sliding glass doors that showed a massive pool in the back yard. The artwork on the walls had spotlights that shone down on the canvas, making it glow, and the statues held not a speck of dust. Tonight would be a piece of cake, she thought.

  “How is your family?” she asked Mrs. Baker politely.

  “They are wonderful. My oldest boys are coming into town for an extended stay and bringing their children. There’s an exhibit at the museum downtown featuring Legos and they thought they’d bring the kids to visit grandmama while here. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Spectacular! I bet they are beautiful children.”

  “Oh no, honey – they are little heathens,” Mrs. Baker said with a quirky laugh that made her smile. “But they are my heathens and I spoil them something awful. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have cookie dough on the ceiling next Friday for you.”

  Somehow, Rose seriously doubted that was the case. She pictured a gathering of children in pressed little slacks and button-up shirts. Mrs. Baker had a way of making you feel right at home when everything in you recognized the fact that they lived quite a bit more well-off than other people did. She would never have white carpet or white furniture – but Mrs. Baker did, and it was glistening in the sunlight. If she had a white recliner, there would be a tan coffee ring on the arm where she balanced her cup out of habit.

  Rose’s home was lived in.

  Mrs. Baker’s home was a museum.

  “Well, I had better get started,” Rose announced jovially with a smile at the older woman. Perhaps she would tackle the bathrooms first or the kitchen, simply because the entry way looked spotless. You could eat off the marble floor without a second thought – and on that note, she slipped the shoe covers over her sneakers with a wink.

  Mrs. Baker just patted her on the back and retreated to the kitchen to start a pot of tea for the two of them. That was their habit, their routine. Rose would clean as much as possible but at the end of the job – they’d have a cup of tea together before Mrs. Baker signed the invoice. She understood that it wasn’t so much the cleaning but rather that the woman was lonely and this gave her someone to talk to for a bit. It was the same stories, the same complaints about her knees aching, but each tale was told with love and gusto.

  She was t
ruly a wonderful client to have.

  Heading back to the first restroom, Rose smiled as she saw it was untouched. Taking a Windex wipe, she quickly removed any dust or water spots from the faucet and mirrored vanity. She brushed the bowl of the toilet, grinning at the golden toilet seat with matching gilt handle. Nothing was plain or worn in this home in the slightest. Hearing her phone ding again, Rose pulled it from her pocket guiltily. She hated to check her telephone while on the job but what if it was her mother?

  Rose, need you to cover for Stacey tonight.

  She cancelled last minute and this is a new client.

  Finish at Baker project and call me from the car.

  Rolling her eyes, Rose grimaced. Her evening would be rushed and Stacey had done this to her repeatedly in the past few weeks. Cancelling last minute seemed to be her specialty- but Rose could use the extra money. Her mother was at home watching Netflix so she had all evening if needed. It was only one in the afternoon, plus with having the day off – in theory, she would still have time to finish her book tonight.

  She was reading a delicious story of a woman that developed magical powers and crossed into another realm. The idea of something so crazy, so mythical, seemed to resonate with her. She had a particular fondness for fairytales and had an entire bookshelf of them – after all, if you couldn’t handle the day after day, dreariness of normality… why not allow yourself to be carried away from the hum-drum of reality. Fairytales were just wishes on paper… and well… who couldn’t use a wish or two in their lives?

  2

  “What a lame gift,” Jarret Ariet sneered as he opened the unmarked card and removed the gift card inside. He’d found the blue envelope laying on top of his inbox on his desk and assumed it was another wedding invitation or a baby shower card. Everyone in his company seemed intent on inviting him to some event or another simply to get a darn gift from him. Receiving a gift from an employee was a true surprise and he was positive there had to be a reason or motive, behind it.

  “Mindy! Who’s this from?”

  The stout middle-aged woman who was his receptionist had the nerve to flinch at hearing her name. Jarret simply rolled his eyes and sighed. If she didn’t make such exceptional coffee or do such a phenomenal job – he’d have fired her a long time ago.

  As it was, Mindy was the best receptionist he’d had in about five years… even if he’d never admit it. If he told her, she’d want a raise and that would only increase expenses or incite others to ask for more money. It had a sick, sad, trickle-down effect in the office atmosphere and no one could keep their traps shut about it. Ohhhh no, when one person got an increase in their pay – the sharks smelled blood in the water. They all became nauseatingly sweet to him. The staff spent more time trying to stick their noses up his behind rather than work on the jobs they needed to complete.

  All he wanted was for his team to push production and that required chit-chat on the phones with clients, not chatter amongst themselves. Their numbers were so much higher when they put in a concentrated effort to hit their goals. He wasn’t a mean, uncaring boss in the slightest. When his team hit their numbers, everyone won. He had huge spiffs and gifts if they hit their lofty sales for the month… and if they didn’t- then why should they bonus well?

  “I… ah…” Mindy stammered and her face flushed. Jarret simply looked at her, made an about face and walked back to his desk. He wasn’t sure how to handle the fact that she had given him a gift. The card had said ‘Happy Bosses Day’ and inside was a gift card for a free cleaning service. He couldn’t believe there was such a dumb holiday out there and for a moment thought he might be in the wrong industry. If greeting card companies could make up events like this – than he could too. Happy oil change day! Hooray! he thought. Looking around his office, he frowned. Apparently Mindy thought he was a pig and was silently telling him so.

  A cleaning service… seriously?

  “Mindy are you trying to tell me something?” he snarled, only to see her duck her head down as she flinched, just before standing up. Other employees raised their heads out of their cubicles like meerkats at the zoo watching the gawkers nearby. She rushed into his office, wringing her hands nervously and smiling tentatively.

  “I thought you might like something you could use.”

  “How do you know I need to use it?”

  “You work so many hours, Mr. Ariet,” she explained softly. “You are always here and put in a lot of late nights. My mother uses them and so does my aunt. They do a great job and really quiet about it…”

  “Gotcha,” he interrupted.

  “I hope you like it,” she smiled. “Would you like more coffee?”

  Glancing up at her hopeful face he was reminded of a puppy dog’s large, sincere, brown eyes as she stared at him. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know her place or the fact that she didn’t have a mean bone in her body… and it was terrific coffee.

  “Yes, on both counts, Mindy,” he admitted gruffly, opening his laptop in order to busy himself before she expected a gushing thank you, some pink puffy stickers, or a participation ribbon.

  That evening as he unlocked the door to his condo, Jarrett shoved hard on the door to push the debris out of the way. He was a pig, and it hit home with the idea that his receptionist recognized it in him. He was embarrassed and a bit disturbed that Mindy had guessed right: he wasn’t home much, nor did he spend any time taking care of himself.

  Kicking the strewn shoes off to the side and watching them bounce off the wall, he threw the mail on the coffee table near his single recliner that occupied the empty living room. Several letters slid off onto the floor, causing him to huff and roll his eyes upwards. Heading into the kitchen, he kicked off his own shoes and yanked open the fridge door. Seeing that he was down to seven protein shakes inside and three slices of cheese, he grimaced knowing that he would need to run to the store again soon.

  Grabbing a bottle, he peeked in the freezer hoping that the emptiness would magically grow a TV dinner or a frozen pizza. Seeing only a bag of ice that was from months ago, he shut the door. Unscrewing the top of the bottle, he chugged down the thick chalky vanilla drink and dropped it into the nearly overflowing trash can near the kitchen table.

  He was a mess and didn’t know where to begin sorting things out. If he needed clothing, he bought some or took a wad of laundry down to the dry cleaners. If he wanted food- he ordered take out or simply drank a protein shake. And apparently if he wanted his house cleaned, he would need to hire a cleaning company according to Mindy.

  Digging his cell phone out of his pocket, he sat down heavily in the worn recliner and turned on the television. He was exhausted and simply needed a moment to shut off his mind in order to unwind from the day’s events. Things had been hectic and everything seemed to be bothering him. He was miserable and he knew it. Pulling back the arm, he kicked his feet upwards and threw a blanket over himself. Leaning backwards, he dialed the number on the card and idly wondered if this was all just a stupid mistake. He didn’t like people messing with his things or his privacy… but then again, maybe this was just what he needed in order to unwind. A place that didn’t stress him out completely or make him feel like he needed to spend hours working on simply maintaining his home.

  “Yeah – hello. I was given a gift card for a cleaning and I just needed to set this up,” he barked out into the receiver and listened as the voice went over all sorts of details. His eyes drifted shut several times, before he stopped the voice in mid-sentence.

  “Sounds good. I just need someone to get out here and I don’t care what date. Pick one and make it happen. I’ll leave a key at the front security desk -oh! Make sure whoever comes isn’t a klepto… I’m serious. If none of my stuff disappears, I might decide to use you guys again. Are we clear?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he rattled off his address and phone number. Moments later, he ended the call and yawned. Grabbing the remote, he turned off the television and simply lay there in the rec
liner to sleep. There was no point in going to his room to rest… his bed had papers and presentations spread out all over it. It had been like that for two months now and eventually he would land that account in order to move to the next presentation. It was a vicious cycle. He’d just try to do the best he could and get by.

  3

  Rose pulled up her car in front of the tall building downtown. The valet had eyed her vehicle as she pulled into the parking garage. When she didn’t have a tag or a pass for her car, she had to explain who she was and why she was there to the parking garage attendant. His look of disbelief and shock instantly made her wary.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Mr. Ariet likes his privacy,” he informed her immediately.

  “He’s hired me and we pride ourselves on privacy. I’m with Squeaky Shack cleaning services. See?” Rose beamed proudly and held up her nametag so he could see it. The attendant muttered something under his breath and pushed a button to let the orange and yellow barrier raise up, allowing her to pass underneath. She could have sworn he said something obscene under his breath as she drove into the garage.

  Finding a spot, she quickly parked her car and gathered up her bags. Not knowing what to expect, she brought extra trash bags and Q-tips for the hard to clean corners of picture frames or railings. Walking up to the doorway, she waited patiently to be buzzed in by security. Seeing the guarded look on his face, Rose felt herself grow anxious. Why was everyone so paranoid when it came to the man? Was he some horrible monster?