Page 6 of The Matchmaker

“I know what you’re going to say to the next item, but we gotanother interview request fromTheNew York Times. They want to do a puff piece for their Lifestyle section.”

“And that’s a hard no, again.”

“It’s a profile withTheNew York Times,Nura! I’m sure your aunt wouldn’t mind?”

I can’t pretend it isn’t tempting. Khala’s always had a strict rule about not talking to the press, but a lothaschanged at the agency since she stepped down. I’ve hired my team. Launched the Piyar app—a way to pay it forward and match those who may not be able to afford the far more selective and pricey personalized services we offer. Khala’s never complained. She even gave me the financial infusions I needed to get the app off the ground. But a profile feels like rubbing her face in how much things have changed.

“I think the mystery keeps people hooked,” I tell Darcy. “Besides, it’s not like the agency is wanting for attention lately.”

“So it’s a no to the Bravo reality show inquiry too, then?” she teases. “I bet they’d pay a pretty penny to follow us around.”

“A regretful pass.”

“Next up.” She checks her tablet. “I need to update you on Kaur.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“She’s left four messages as of this morning. Wants to know when her intake interview will be.”

“We only took her off the wait list three days ago!” Not that incessant calls or texts are unusual. People who possess the kind of bank accounts we deal with aren’t used to waiting.

“I called her back this morning and asked her to be patient,” Darcy says. “But, well, while we were chatting, she mentioned income brackets.”

I fold my arms. “Let me guess. She thinks someone from‘lesser means’ won’t understand her lifestyle. It’s a matter of compatibility. She’s not snooty or anything.”

“It’s like they all passed around the same bad script, isn’t it?”

“Send her the standard rejection template.”

“You sure?” Darcy hesitates. “It was a crass thing to say, but we could go over the rules again? She seemed nice.”

“She should have read the paperwork more carefully. My aunt spelled it all out in there for a reason.”

The requirements for our personalized services are simple: trust the process (we don’t just help you find the one, we helpyoubecome the one by getting your life on track so you’re in a healthy place to take on a healthy relationship); be transparent during the vetting phase, warts and all; and understand that while we help the elite, we arenotelitist. Any violation ends our agreement. I know Darcy thinks I could ease up a little, but Khala’s standards have never steered us wrong.

“Got it. I’ll shoot over the decline letter.” Darcy jots down a note. “And last but not least.” She hands me a manila folder. “My temporary replacements.”

“Take that as far away from me as possible.”

“Nura…”

“I’m telling you, we can manage on our own for a couple of months.”

“Youneedthe help.”

I know I’m acting like the proverbial ostrich sticking her head in the sand, but I can’t help but pout about the idea of several months without Darcy’s help and company. After all these years working together, she’s more than just my assistant—she’s my friend.

“It’s not a long list. November will be here before you know it.” She sets it on my desk. “It would be ideal if you found someone while I’m still here so I can show them the ropes.That inbox won’t tame itself when I’m gone. It’s been bonkers lately.”

There’s a chime from the front door.

“That’s the water guy,” she says. “Be right back.”

I turn on my computer. My phone buzzes. It’s Azar.

Azar:What time is your birthday dinner?

Me:6:00pm. Not Desi Standard Time.

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