“Tax service?”
She shakes her head. “ Nope. You’re looking at the owner of Swan Matchmaking Services.”
I have so many questions, but mostly, I’m excited for her.
“Like online dating?”
She puts up her hands. “No. Nothing online except my website and the questionnaires. I match everybody personally after one-on-one face-to-face interviews, consulting with counselors, astrologists, and friends. It’s a whole personality assessment. I already have consultants on contract to help me with the personality tests and readings.”
It sounds like she’s put a lot of thought into all this. “How long have you been working on this?”
She takes another sip of coffee and then drops the bomb. “About a year.”
I’m stunned.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
She looks a little sheepish and says, “You’ve been getting over a cheating ex. And you’ve been spending a lot of time alone. I didn’t want to upset you with details about my ideas centered on romance.”
I’m a little hurt, but I take in what she’s saying.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been a little distant. You can talk to me about this kind of stuff. I’m so happy for you.”
I reached across the table, grab her hand and squeeze. I’m a little surprised that she’d be interested in making a career out of her favorite pastime, considering how her marriage to her high school sweetheart, Ewan, ended. I don’t dare speak his name to her, though. No one does. But surely, she sees the irony in this chosen profession.
“But wait. What are you donating to the silent auction?”
“A free matchmaking session. The whole works. From the questionnaire through the first date. I figured it would be a good way to get word of mouth out there.”
I nod in approval. “I think people will eat that up at the silent auction, especially since Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
“I sure hope so. Since I just registered my business and secured office space, I had to go to a planning meeting for the downtown association. And I don’t want to scare you, but Wilson Rogers III is coming to the gala.”
I choke on my rye toast.
“That troll?”
Both of us know exactly who he is. His daddy is worth a fortune and covers a massive chunk of the base salary paid to members of the arts guild. Wilson the Third is not a fan of the arts and is a notorious back-door dealer.
“Why in the world would he be coming to this?”
Maddie says, “I’ve heard he’s been trying to stack like-minded board members at The Rogers Foundation. He’s trying to steer it in the new direction.”
“Let me guess. Politics.”
“Yep.”
Suddenly, I don’t know whether I want to stress-eat or if I’ve lost my appetite.
“That means I’m gonna have to talk to that idiot at the gala, aren’t I? This is even worse than I imagined,” I moan.
And somehow, Rowdy is going to help with this?
What was I thinking?
Rowdy is a good guy, but this is going to take a whole other level of finesse. I can’t think of anyone in Songbird Ridge who knows how to play nice with that man. His daddy? Sure. But not the heir apparent.
I’ve made a terrible error.
