“Oh, she said she might not come back after lunch.”
“She did?”
Suzy looks sheepish. “Yeah. I mean, she sometimes does that. She has no more meetings this afternoon.”
“Right, that’s true.” Still, I look at Suzy and she looks back at me. There’d been a time when my aunt had lived and breathed Opate Match, using her charisma and connections to turn this place into a small but powerful company.
Now she’s checking out more and more often.
“She didn’t say what she was going to do,” Suzy adds.
I shrug. “Well, maybe she had another hairdresser appointment.”
We both know that isn’t true. She always goes to the blow-dry bar on Thursdays, but Suzy nods. “Yeah. Maybe.”
My phone rings and I give her a smile, heading into my office. The name on my phone brings me right back to professional-land. I set down my cup of coffee and hit reply.
“Hi, Isabelle.”
“Summer!” Her voice is excited—a good sign. “I know we talkafterthe dates, but this time I had to call you before. I’m on my way to the café now.”
“Oh, that’s terrific. I’m happy you’re excited.”
“That has to be a good sign, right? Yes, it is. I read the information you sent me about him three times last night. He’s really quite impressive, isn’t he?”
I think of Anthony Winter opposite me in my office, the rough-hewn features, the unrelenting gaze. The uncooperative silences.
“Yes, he is. A man with a presence.”
Isabelle gives a smallooohof appreciation. This will be the sixteenth man I’ve set her up with. A small, unhelpful part of me suspects Isabelle enjoys dating too much to commit, and has no problem paying our matchmaking fees with her inherited fortune.
“He’s charmingly grumpy,” I tell her. “A man you need to draw out of his shell.”
The sigh on the other end tells me I’ve phrased it just right. “I can do that,” Isabelle says. “I’ll lure him right out. Can you imagine, a Winter? He can be as grumpy as he wants.”
That gives me pause. Vivienne knows all the families in New York, and yet she hadn’t told me anything about Anthony’s.
“Good,” I say, not sure if I want to encourage her way of speaking about him. “Best of luck with the date, Isabelle. And remember what we spoke about last time?”
“Oh, yes, Summer. Thanks for reminding me,” she says. “I’m so excited! And now I’m almost here! I’ll talk to you afterwards.”
I lower my phone and release the breath I’d been holding in. Anthony Winter and Isabelle Ashford. Not a bad set-up, even if she’s a serial dater. She’s a great example of the clients we have. Someone who’ll love to go on this date whether or not it actually ends up in… you know. Anything.
Petite, redheaded, an art gallery owner. Someone to match Anthony.
I hope.
He’s coming here for a debrief tomorrow, and I know I’ll be given a scathing review if I’ve misjudged this.
* * *
Isabelle calls again not fifty minutes later.
“Oh no…” I murmur, looking from my phone to Ace. Good first dates last a lot longer than this. “Hi, Isabelle.”
“It’s me,” she says.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear back quite so soon. Is the date over?”