“Now, I don’t know what happened to that boy, but I do know that him bein’ crabby and shouty comes from the same place as you bein’ the dirt police. And dressin’ like a nun. And actin’ like you’re tryin’ to hold a dime between your butt cheeks when you walk. And—”
“I got it,” I interrupt in a loud voice.
“My point is that you are the same,” she says gently. “You’ve both got a lot of broken pieces. But if you give it a chance, you might find that all your broken pieces fit together perfectly to make a beautiful whole.”
I stare at her for a long time. In a strangled voice, I say, “I’m going to cry again now.”
Then I burst into tears with renewed vigor, because that’s just how my day is going.
I wring myself dry, blubbering and boo-hooing until I’m sure the neighbors will call the police to report a banshee at large in the neighborhood. When I’m good and tuckered out, the ladies make me hot chocolate and put me to bed with a cold washcloth over my eyes. Then they set about cleaning up the mess I made in the kitchen, putting everything back into the pantry and cupboards.
I’m sure they don’t arrange things with any kind of system. And the labels on all the cans are probably facing in every direction except front. I’m too tired to care.
As I’m falling asleep, I promise myself I’ll fix it tomorrow.
But in the morning, I’m shocked to find everything arranged in perfect rows by height and color and alphabetized. And the rest of the house is sparkling, clean, too. I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and love, and so lucky to have such wonderful women in my life.
Until I see the note on the kitchen table.
Mercury is going into retrograde today, honey, so if you’re still a soggy lump of existential despair when you read this, dry your tears and buckle up. Things are about to get bumpy.
Auntie Waldine can always be counted on to add a dash of whacky to the situation.
In the light of day, my mind is much clearer than it was last night. I had an emotional reaction to kissing Mason, yes, but I know it was only momentary. Regardless of my aunt’s airplane metaphors, Mason and me together just doesn’t make sense. I lost my head, but now I’ve found it, and I’ve still got a job to do.
I’ve got to find Mason a wife.
I go into the office and spend the rest of the day vetting Stephanie’s file. I run the background and credit check, call her references, and review her social media profiles. There are two other men I think she might be interested in, but I really want her to meet Mason, so after thinking how best to approach the subject, I give her a call.
“Hi, Maddie!” she says when she picks up the phone. “It’s funny you called, I was just thinking about calling you to thank you for our meeting!”
She’s got one of those bright, bubbly personalities that seem bulletproof against negativity. When I asked her during our meeting to describe her worst date, she laughed, waved it off, and said, “There are no bad dates. There are only learning experiences that lead us to where we’re supposed to be going and the partner we’re supposed to be with.”
I thought that was so good I wanted put it on my website.
I say, “Is now a good time for us to chat?”
“Sure! What’s up?”
“Well, I have three potential matches for you that I’d like to talk to you about.”
She’s thrilled. “Really? That fast? Wow, I’m impressed!”
I tell her about the first two guys. One’s a university professor, the other’s a top executive at a media company. She’s not interested in either.
Which leads us to bachelor number three.
“Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?”
She pauses. “He’s not in prison, is he?”
That makes me laugh. Then I remember Mason’s scraped knuckles and stop laughing.
“No. He’s been fully vetted, and I think he’s an incredible guy. But I’ll be honest with you. It’s going to take a special kind of woman to handle him. He’s not all sunshine and rainbows.”
She sounds intrigued. “Go on.”
“We’ll do the good stuff first. He’s very smart, and he’s got a really sharp sense of humor. He’s extremely successful, driven, and talented. He’s also very sensitive, much more than he lets on. He notices everything. He’s not the guy who’ll be clueless when you’re upset. He’ll want to know what’s wrong. He’ll get in your face about it. If you’re the type that likes to gloss it over and move on when you’re mad, that will be a problem.”
“For such a smart girl, you can be really clueless.”
I push aside the memory of Mason’s confusing words and keep going.
“His job is very high profile, so he’s recognized in public often.”
“He’s a celebrity?”
“Not to the point where you’d be mobbed at McDonald’s, but he does get asked for autographs.”
“Is he on TV?”
“I can’t get into the details yet. But you’d have to sign a non-disclosure agreement if you wanted to be matched with him. You wouldn’t be able to speak publicly about your dates or tell anyone you’d met him.” I pause for effect. “If you did, you’d be subject to legal action.”
She laughs, which I take as a good sign. “So if we fell in love and got married, I’d have to pretend he didn’t exist?”
“No, the NDA only covers your initial match, phone conversations, and first dates, and my company’s part in the process. If a relationship develops, you’re free to negotiate further.”
“Negotiate? What, like a prenup?”
“If it got that far, there would definitely be a prenup,” I say, nodding. “So you should consider how you feel about that before moving forward.”
She mulls it over for a moment. “It’s not my favorite idea, but I get it. Wealthy people need to protect their assets from unscrupulous scammers and gold-diggers.”
“Precisely.”
“So is that the bad news?”
I make a face. “Um, no.”
“Is he ugly?”
A square jaw, full lips, and a pair of blistering gray eyes swim into my mind’s eye. “He’s the opposite of ugly. He’s incredibly handsome. In fact, he might be the most attractive man I’ve ever met.”
I say that so forcefully it surprises both of us. We sit in silence for a moment, until Stephanie says, “That could pose its own set of problems, too.”
I knew this girl was smart.
“Yes. He gets a lot of attention from women. Whoever ends up with him will have to have a strong sense of her own self worth and be mature enough to deal with it. If you’re the jealous type, it won’t work.”
Stephanie sounds doubtful. “I don’t know, Maddie. I’ve been cheated on before. A guy who has women hitting on him all the time doesn’t sound like my cup of tea.”
“I hear you. It would concern me, too. But I’m convinced that if he met the right person, he’d be a goner. If he gave his heart, he’d never look at another woman again.”
She’s silent for a while, thinking. Then she says, “I can tell you like him, and I trust your judgment, so he can’t be all bad.”