The next afternoon a rather befuddled Elena stayed at the shop while Marco journeyed the half mile or so to the Bruney house. As Miss Dearin had sent him word of the best time to call, he didn’t expect to find the Bruneys at home, and was relieved to find that they were indeed out and about.

Miss Dearin welcomed him jovially into the house. “Oh, Mr. Portela, so good to see you! We had some of your bread today at luncheon and everyone was in raptures over it! Come in, come in! I made an exquisite batch of macaroons, and you must try one.”

“No, thank you, Miss Dearin,” Marco said with a laugh. “But I’ll take one for my daughter, if you don’t mind — she loves sweets.”

“She shall have one, then!” Miss Dearin declared. “Remind me to give you one before you go. Now what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Now the moment had come, Marco felt a little embarrassed. “Well, you see…I had heard…that is, the Carmers mentioned…”

Miss Dearin blinked at him expectantly, then clapped her hands together. “You want me to make a match for you!” she exclaimed. “I’d be glad to do it, sir! In fact, I have just the woman. She’s a fine lady, and beautiful, too. She’s staying with the Fonnesbecks…perhaps you’ve heard of her…Miss Stella Silberhorn?”

Marco made a face. “The actress? No, no…please, no actresses.”

“With all due respect, sir, why on earth not? She’s retired from the stage, you know, and wants to start a respectable family.

“My wife was an actress,” said Marco regretfully. Miss Dearin suddenly caught on.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I heard about that. How foolish of me. My deepest condolences to you, sir.”

Marco thought it odd for someone to offer their condolences to someone who had been divorced, but he shrugged it off. “Is there anyone else?” he asked hopefully.

Miss Dearin tapped her fingers on her lips as she pondered. “You know, there’s Miss Gilmer who works for Mr. Montellano, if you don’t mind a woman in service.”

“As long as she’s not an actress,” said Marco, wondering if he had ever seen this Miss Gilmer. “What’s she like?”

“Dark hair and eyes, sort of regal-looking — for a maid.”

This sparked Marco’s memory…

“Yes, I’ve seen her in my store,” he said. “I believe she bought a large supply of tea.”

Miss Dearin grinned. “That’s her! What did you think?”

Marco smiled. “She was quite nice.”

That was all Miss Dearin needed to hear. In an instant, she hatched a plan to bring them together under more carefree cirumstances. After giving Marco the particulars of her plan and tucking a few delicately wrapped macaroons into his coat pocket, she sent him on his way.

Back at home, Elena was going mad. School that day had been horrible, what with Mrs. Merrifield scolding her for not paying attention, and Zale Whidbee pretending she didn’t exist. When she arrived home, she wanted nothing more than to paint, or perhaps practice chess, but unfortunately she had to take care of the store while her father went to see Miss Dearin. After dealing with customers who asked her strange questions and one naughty child who knocked over a whole basket of eggs, she went upstairs intending to rest, but her father asked her gently to make supper while he called on the Carmers. That was the last straw.

Elena had never really lost control before, but she was veering dangerously close to it now. She wished she were back at the old house, which wasn’t above a shop, and the old school, where the teacher was kind. And most of all she wished for her mother back so her father wouldn’t be doing silly things like visiting a matchmaker.

By the time her father came home, she had calmed down enough to prepare him a nice little supper. He thanked her with a kiss on the forehead, then said something that made her whole terrible day suddenly worthwhile.

“Elena, I’m closing the shop tomorrow, and you’re going to stay home from school.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Had her father gone mad, too? “I won’t argue with a command like that, but…what’s happening?”

Marco smiled suavely. “Why, we’re going to the beach, my dear.”

Elena loved to swim, but hadn’t gone since her mother had left. She remembered days when it had been too hot in the city, and her mother had taken her out to the beach so she could frolic in cool spray. Now it was her and her father, but she still had the same rush of excitement when she descended onto the beach and saw the rippling water extending before her.

She waded into the sea while her father was still changing into his bathing suit (in her eagerness she had changed into hers before they left home). It felt so good to be in the water again, to float and dive and taste the salty ocean on her lips that she soon forgot all her cares. Even her pleasant reminiscences of her mother faded away as she lived entirely in the present, enjoying the sheer blueness of sky and sea.

Her father soon joined her, and they splashed and swam about for a good hour before Elena strode onto the beach and lay on the warm sand. Up to that point they had had the beach to themselves, but now two ladies appeared, laughing as they raced over the shore and into the leaping waves. Elena thought they looked vaguely familiar, but the sun was glaring in her eyes, so she closed them and went back to relaxing.

Out in the water, Marco watched the approaching ladies with interest, a smile playing on the lips beneath his distinguished mustache.

“Hallo, there!” he called out as Miss Dearin swam towards him.

“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Portela! Who’s minding the shop while you’re gamboling in the surf?”

“No one!” he laughed. “My daughter and I decided to take a little vacation today. I’ve been working the poor girl too hard. Look how fatigued she is!”

Miss Dearin glanced over at Elena where she lay like a sprawled jellyfish. “What a kind father you are to bring her here! Isn’t that kind of him, Kate?”

Miss Kate Gilmer swam up just as Miss Dearin turned and swam away, leaving her face-to-face with Mr. Portela.

“That’s very kind indeed,” said Miss Gilmer. She looked admiringly at the handsome man with the dark, slicked-back hair, and he smiled back at her.