The Matchmaker Meets Her Match

by Jenny Jacobs

  “But you’ll arrive empty-handed,” he protested. “You can’t go to a ballerina’s recital without a bouquet of flowers to give her afterwards.”

  “She’s not that kind of ballerina,” Rilka said, but she turned anyway. He had a point.

  “Roses,” Duncan called after her as she entered the florist shop. She returned a few minutes later with a mixed bouquet and handed them to him to hold.

  “Charming,” he said sourly.

  Rilka gave him a startled glance. He’d never used that tone of voice with her before. “When you pay, you can bring roses,” she said, starting the car.

  The recital was being held at the community theater playhouse. Despite barely arriving in time, they were able to find two seats near the front of the room.

  “Not exactly a full house,” Rilka said.

  “Everyone has to start somewhere,” Duncan said, philosophical. A Duncan she had not experienced before. He sat down and looked attentively at the stage.

  The instructor, a severe-looking gaunt woman with dyed black hair scraped back into a bun, stepped on stage and thanked them for coming, then described the evening’s coming events in rather more detail than Rilka thought was strictly necessary. The program indicated that it was going to be a long night. Anything for a friend, Rilka reminded herself, and was startled to realize that was what Julia had become.

  The house lights dimmed and the stage lights rose. Then a chorus of dancers entered, thumping rather loudly in counterpoint to the music being played over the sound system. The dancers were of various ability levels but all exhibited more heart than actual talent. Still, there were worse ways to spend an evening. She could be interviewing clients. This was much better than that.

  “That’s Julia,” she said in a low voice to Duncan, pointing. “The brunette in the turquoise leotard.” The bright color had the unfortunate effect of emphasizing Julia’s less flattering features. But it was a pretty color. Eye-catching.

  Duncan leaned forward, giving every evidence of being riveted by the spectacle. If he’d been the kind of person who would find it amusingly pathetic, she would have understood the smile on his face, but Duncan didn’t have a cruel or malicious bone in his body, so it wasn’t snark. She didn’t quite understand what it was. He didn’t even know any of the participants.

  “She’s doing rather well,” Rilka remarked. Julia seemed absorbed in her movements, enjoying her moment in the spotlight, her face happy, her whole figure transported with the joy of dancing, even if she wasn’t technically proficient.

  “Hush,” Duncan said firmly. Another side of the man Rilka had not experienced before. She subsided into her seat, watching Duncan’s pensive profile as he stared at the dancers. Well, not the dancers. He was staring at Julia.

  When the dancers came out to take their bows, Duncan grabbed Rilka’s bouquet of flowers and marched toward the stage.

  “Oh dear,” Rilka said out loud, darting after him. Duncan might do anything if left unattended. He threw the bouquet at Julia’s feet, which was perhaps slightly overdramatic but at least it wasn’t actually wrong-headed, dangerous, or rude. “Brava!” he said, clapping madly. “You danced so beautifully! You moved me.”

  Julia bent to take the flowers, her movements uncertain. She glanced at Rilka, who shrugged.

  “They should have been roses,” Duncan said.

  Then Julia extended her hand, regal as a prima donna, and Duncan reached up to kiss it.

  “Oh dear,” Rilka said again.

  • • •

  “She was beautiful,” Duncan said again, pacing in the hallway near the backstage door as Julia and the other dancers changed from their recital costumes into their street clothes. “Did you see the passion on her face? She was so alive, so happy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rilka said. She looked at his excited face, her heart sinking. What did he see in Julia? And what did he think Julia would see in him? It would be no different from any of the dates that had come before. He would be hurt again. And Julia had given up dating; she’d told Rilka herself that it was too hard on the ego. She wasn’t likely to be very receptive to him.

  He straightened his suit jacket and fixed the cuffs of his sleeves.

  “Is my tie straight?” he asked for the tenth time.

  “You look fine,” Rilka said. That wasn’t going to be the problem. That was never going to be the problem with Duncan.

  But Duncan wasn’t listening. He’d caught sight of Julia, walking down the hallway; it seemed he had spotted her, like a predator scenting prey. Maybe she should run that in her advertising. Rilka’s Matchmaking: Where Predator Meets Prey.

  She sighed as Duncan stared at Julia, spellbound, as she approached.

  Julia smiled shyly at Duncan. Rilka’s heart sank lower. When had Julia ever smiled shyly at anyone? The moment Duncan opened his mouth, Julia would be rushing for the nearest exit.

  “Julia, this is Duncan. Duncan, this is Julia,” Rilka said. Did they even hear her? Julia clutched the bouquet in her left hand and stared at Duncan, just as spellbound as he.

  It’ll wear off, Rilka thought, glancing at her watch. In about one hundred twenty seconds.

  Duncan lifted Julia’s free hand to his lips again. The gesture seemed affected to Rilka but Julia didn’t seem to share her sentiments.

  “You were lovely. A flower,” he said. “A flower just blossoming. Blooming late but all the more beautiful for it.”

  Banal and trite, Rilka thought critically, but a heartbreaking smile transformed Julia’s face.

  No, no, no, Rilka thought. A mother must feel like this when her toddler staggers towards the flames.

  “Where has Rilka been hiding you all this time?” Julia asked, linking her arm with Duncan’s. “Keeping you for herself?”

  Flirting? Rilka’s brain couldn’t process Julia flirting with a male supermodel. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  “Oh, Rilka thinks I’m dull and boring.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Julia said.

  “Actually, it is,” Rilka said. She might as well surrender to the inevitable. In the morning there would be tears and recriminations, but it wasn’t morning yet. Was it wrong to let them have one magic night? “If you’d be willing to take him off my hands for the evening, it would be a tremendous favor to me.”

  Oh dear, she thought, when both turned beaming smiles at her.

  • • •

  “He’s a real gentleman,” Hilda said, unfurling her napkin and placing it in her lap.

  Rilka tried to listen despite the pounding headache that made Hilda’s voice grate even more than usual. She’d tossed and turned all night, worried about what to say when Duncan called over the moon about Julia, desperate to hear what she thought of him. And Rilka would have to dutifully call Julia, and hear her scornful take on Duncan, and Rilka would have to relay the devastating news to him. Tell me the truth, he would say. Maybe she’d call up his administrative assistant first, let her know that bad news was coming —

  “Very considerate and charming, especially for someone his age.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rilka said, her fork pausing over her eggs Benedict. She’d suggested brunch out because if she spent any more time in her kitchen she was going to go mad. And she should have suspected something was up when Hilda agreed so readily. “I don’t follow. Who are we talking about?”

  “The new lab assistant,” Hilda said benevolently. Benevolence was so unlike Hilda that Rilka could only gape at her.

  “So he’s a younger man.” Rilka had grasped that much. A work romance? Pity the poor kid if he made a pass at Hilda. He’d be charged with sexual harassment in twelve seconds.

  “So I took him under my wing. He was so grateful. You know, starting a new job can be so difficult.”

  I would give anything to be starting a new job, Rilka thought.

  “And he’s so courteous and thoughtful. Since I’m not his direct supervisor, I thought it would be okay.”

  “Wha
t would be okay?”

  “Why, to have him over for dinner,” Hilda said, this time a little tartly. “Honestly, haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

  No, not really, seemed like an injudicious choice of words so she settled on, “I’m not feeling myself today. Do go on.”

  “A home-cooked meal always appeals to these young men,” Hilda said. “He’s very proper and polite.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “I know he doesn’t make that much money, and I don’t want him spending it on taking me out. He was grateful for my understanding. Plus, he’s just a homebody like me, so we also have a pleasant time even if we’re just staying in.”

  This didn’t sound good. It sounded like the most boring relationship ever created.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she said. If it kept her clients from being jailed and/or sued by Hilda, Rilka was all for it.

  • • •

  “You seem preoccupied, dear,” Reston said, leaning back into the sofa cushions and sipping his port, which he had brought with him, pronouncing her tea undrinkable. That was fine. She never wanted to make another pot of tea again in her lifetime.

  “I have a headache. And something weird’s in the water. My brainiac scientist has taken a junior assistant under her wing. She was telling me all about it at brunch today. She’s maternal, he’s grateful. Some great romance is supposed to develop out of that?”

  “Repeat that for me,” Reston said, looking up from the swirling port. “You have a scientist — female it sounds like — among your clients? Someone you’ve had difficulty matching?”

  “She’s a repressed virgin,” Rilka said and then flushed. “That was kind of rude. But true.”

  “And the young man is grateful to her. I suppose she cooks dinner for him and they stay in a lot? Keeping the relationship hush-hush so as not to make the coworkers talk? Even though the coworkers couldn’t care less?”

  “I suppose it adds a frisson of excitement to an otherwise deadly dull affair,” she said.

  “Hmm,” said Reston. “What, exactly, does your scientist do?”

  “Pharmaceutical research,” she said.

  “And this assistant is a new employee?”

  “Yes.”

  He sipped port meditatively for a moment, then tapped his glass with his finger.

  “I’ve been in business a long time,” he said finally. “You get so you notice patterns. And the pattern you just described says industrial espionage to me.”

  “What?” Rilka almost spilled her own glass of port. She’d just been bitching about a client, which, okay, she shouldn’t have been doing, but Reston’s interpretation of what was happening was insane. How had he leaped from dullest affair in this city to industrial espionage?

  “He flatters her, makes her feel like she offers him something no one else does. But he keeps the relationship quiet so no one knows about it.”

  Now it was Rilka’s turn to say, “Hmm.”

  “And even if it isn’t work-related, it is precisely how con men get women of a certain age to hand over their assets,” Reston went on.

  Ugh. That sounded possible. It sounded like exactly the kind of thing that would happen to Hilda.

  “Perhaps I should talk to this woman,” he suggested. “Get her to see the potential damage.”

  “That won’t work,” Rilka said. “I can’t tell you who she is. Besides, she’ll be defensive and dislike the implications you make. I mean, who wants to hear that the man she secretly lusts after only wants to steal her research or her money?”

  “Well, you can’t just sit idly by,” Reston said, although Rilka felt she very well could.

  “We’ll have to try something else,” she said. She wasn’t even sure there was anything to be concerned about. Industrial espionage? How farfetched were his concerns? But Reston seemed perfectly serious and she supposed something had to be wrong. Was this going to end up reflecting badly on her? Probably.

  Just shoot me now, she thought.

  • • •

  “Hey, Julia, what’s up?” Rilka asked even though she didn’t want to know the answer. Never let it be said she wasn’t willing to face up to the tough challenges. “Did Duncan see you safely home?”

  “Oh, he did,” Julia said with a naughty giggle.

  Rilka had heard that before.

  “Don’t tell me … he didn’t leave right away,” she guessed with a sigh. Honestly, some women were awful. They’d sleep with Duncan because of his looks and then toss him aside because he couldn’t hold a conversation. Why didn’t they establish the lack of conversation before going to bed with him? It seemed — what? Dishonest? Men did it, too, Rilka knew, sleeping with women when they had no interest in pursuing a relationship.

  And she guessed that was okay if both people involved knew what was going on, but in Rilka’s experience, that was rarely the case. Someone always wanted more. Someone always hoped. Someone always got hurt. This time it would be Duncan. Again.

  Why had she brought him to the recital? Because it had never occurred to her that he would find Julie attractive. She repressed a sigh and glanced at the clock. Donald would be calling her soon —

  “No, he didn’t leave right away,” Julia was saying. “In fact, he hasn’t left yet.”

  A few years ago, that would have surprised Rilka, but nothing could do that now. Disappoint her, sure. But surprise her, no.

  “Julia, I don’t want you to hurt him. Please don’t be cruel.” She wasn’t normally so direct, but this was Duncan. How many more times could he be tossed aside before someone finally crushed him?

  “You think I’m using him for sex?” Julia’s voice was incredulous. “Well, I won’t lie. Sex is definitely involved. My God, he knows more about sex than the Kama Sutra.”

  Great. “I don’t need details.”

  “He thinks I’m beautiful, Rilka. He thinks I dance like an angel. He says I’m so happy I make him happy.”

  “He says all that?” Rilka’s turn to be incredulous.

  “Well, not all at one time.”

  “Julia, I think Duncan is a sweetie but you’re ten times smarter than he is.”

  “And also ten times more ambitious. But he’s ten times cuter and makes ten times more money. He’s kind to me, Rilka. He wants to be with me. He likes being with me. He doesn’t even notice I’m fat.”

  “But — ”

  “It’s restful,” Julia said. “I’m not in competition with him. He’s happy just to be with me. I feel the same way about him.”

  “Okay,” Rilka said doubtfully. “Honestly, I thought I’d never get him off the books. But if you’re sure — ”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then congratulations,” Rilka said. That was all that was left to say. No call me when this falls to pieces or don’t say I didn’t warn you. “I hope you’ll be very happy.” And she did. She wanted both of them to have all the joy they could handle.

  Chapter 11

  Rilka forked kung pao chicken into her mouth and chewed vigorously. Jeremy fed the dog a ball of sticky fried rice. Sugar sat on his lap, the way she always did when he was around. She never sat on Rilka’s lap. Of course, Rilka didn’t want her to, but still. It was deflating to the ego.

  Jeremy picked up his chopsticks and said, “I’m listening but I don’t understand why you’ve got your panties in a wad.”

  “That’s a ridiculous phrase,” Rilka said. “God knows what it means. My point is, two less likely people have never set foot in my home.”

  “So? They’re both clients, they found true love, voila! The matchmaker strikes again. Which reminds me, weren’t you going to do something about my getting laid?”

  “But I had nothing to do with it,” she said, addressing the first part of his statement but not the last. “It was pure luck. How can I be an effective matchmaker if my successes are pure luck?”

  “You could’ve told Duncan to clear out or come back later,” Jeremy
argued. “Instead, you invited him along. Maybe on some subconscious level, you knew what would happen.”

  “Bullshit. I was totally clueless. I suck at this. I drive one man back into his wife’s arms — ”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Jeremy asked reasonably. Rilka paused, forkful of kung pao chicken halfway to her mouth. He had a point. If the experience had served to help a man renew his commitment to his wife, that wasn’t a bad thing, right? She was all for marriage, right? So long as it didn’t personally involve her.

  “Not the point,” she decided. “The point is, two totally unsuitable people fall for each other and I can’t get anyone else on my list to even kiss someone.”

  “I’d kiss someone,” Jeremy offered. “You got someone to kiss, I am so there.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “I’m not trying to help,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape.” He dug in a carton for a pot sticker. “Last one,” he said. “You want to share?”

  “No,” Rilka said. He popped it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  “Good,” he said. “I hate sharing.”

  “Then get your chopsticks out of my kung pao chicken,” she said.

  “I don’t mind you sharing,” he explained, nabbing a piece of chicken and sticking it in his mouth.

  Rilka sighed and put her fork down. “I suck at this. I don’t believe in what I’m doing. The other day I realized I could suffer from agoraphobia and not even notice because I practically never leave home.”

  “You’re incompetent, disillusioned, and bored,” he summarized.

  “Well, ouch,” she said, staring at him.

  “What’d you expect me to say?” he asked. “You said it yourself. If you knew what you were doing, you’d do it. You need to shake things up a little. Or maybe you just need to get laid.”

  “You get a hard on, suddenly everyone looks like she needs to get laid,” Rilka snapped.

  “How do you know I have a hard on? Have you been peeking?”

  She ignored him — only thing to do with him, really — and chewed more kung pao chicken, jaws working vigorously. “I never used to suck so badly.”