Page 6 of Romance Reset
“Sure.” Lincoln stood as a good southern gentleman was taught to do when a lady joined him, and waited while Marsali curled up on the cushioned sofa opposite him before reseating himself.
“I, uh, noticed you were getting quite a bit of attention in there. Is she your girlfriend?”
Marsali’s observation brought out a groan he couldn’t control. “No. A married neighbor who’s had a little too much to drink. I thought I’d hide out long enough for her husband to take her home.”
“I see. Lincoln, I was wondering…”
Instant unease filled him. Had he escaped from one woman inside only to get trapped by another outside? The wound from Jill’s death from a car accident was still raw in some ways. Between that and the deaths of his parents, not a day went by that he didn’t wonder if he’d lose everyone that way. “I’m a widower, Marsali. Three years last May.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Her expression softened to sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss. Mac simply referred to you three as ‘bachelor row,’ and I mistakenly assumed you’d never married or were divorced or something. How long were you together?”
“Fifteen years.”
“That’s wonderful.”
He nodded, his thoughts going back in time. “We married young. I was twenty, working construction full-time, going to night classes to get into real estate, and raising Carter after my parents died. Jill was nineteen when we met in class. Those were some lean, hard years but we made it work.”
The breeze off Carolina Cove’s canal brought the scent of salt air along with the low hum of frogs and cicadas and a few boats slowly making their way back to the marina. As always, the scents and sounds brought peace and reminded him that life, however painful, moved on.
“Lincoln, I don’t want to intrude but have you dated since then? I’m sorry, I know it’s a personal question, and I don’t mean to pressure you in any way. Truly. Just wondering if you’ve been feeling lonely?”
“I… Sometimes,” he admitted even though he knew her reasons for asking. But maybe she could help him find someone to spend time with?
“Well, again… please feel no pressure, but I’m always looking for quality clients. It would be a great way to get your feet wet in the dating scene.” Marsali flashed a brief smile. “You aren’t the only professional who works long hours, and I’m guessing you’ve outgrown the bar and party scene. A lot of people find it hard to meet other singles, so I bring the singles to them after vetting them.”
With the kids prepping for college and active with their friends, he’d thrown himself into work after Jill’s death to combat the loneliness that snuck in when he wasn’t on guard. But did loneliness mean he was ready to date? “How do you vet them?”
He asked more out of keeping the conversation going while he pondered his readiness, but he was curious, too.
“I do a full background check on each of my clients. Even a financial check if they allow it and it’s requested. That’s in addition to their one-on-one interviews, where I ask a ton of questions and generally assess them, keeping in mind potential matches from my database.”
“That sounds… difficult.”
Marsali grinned again and shoved her thick curls behind her shoulder. “Not at all. If you know what to look for. I have a background in psychology and constantly study personality tells. People give blatant clues as to their hang-ups, red flags, what have you. Most of the time, we daters ignore them and hope for the best, but a matchmaker picks up on those tells and works to either match them with someone suitable or we steer them toward whatever professional help we feel they might need, in the case of someone who’s too insecure, has self-esteem issues, or problems with trauma.”
“Do I remember correctly Mac mentioning something about you writing a book?”
“I did. It’ll be released soon,” she said, her expression revealing her excitement. “Very soon, actually. It’s a guide for women and dating. So many women struggle with finding the right man, and my list of guidelines and rules, if you want to call them that, will eliminate some of the guesswork as to why certain couples simply don’t work. Matchmaking is old-school, I know, but there’s a science to it that is simply fascinating, and with the right matchmaker, things can go very well.”
Lincoln smiled at her enthusiasm and love of her profession, noting how animated it made her just talking about her livelihood. “I see. Well, to answer your earlier question, no, I haven’t tackled dating yet.”
Marsali tilted her head to one side as she gazed at him, her expression not pitying but… knowing? Until then, Marsali looked like every other twenty something, but the awareness in her gaze left him changing his opinion to that of someone with an old soul, and knowledgeable about many things beyond her years.
Most everything had a science behind it, so he supposed it only made sense that finding that special someone would use some sort of formula as well.
“Lincoln, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I know getting back into the dating world is tough. Mac has said wonderful things about you. He thinks a lot of you, and after chatting with you, I get that same impression. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to match you with someone. The first match is even on me. My treat. Here,” she said, digging for and slipping a rectangle from her pocket, “is my card. It has all my numbers and my website, where you can check my background and qualifications. There’s also free tutorials about dating, conversation starters, that sort of thing. You might find it interesting. Just so you know, my clients with children especially like the background check aspect and interview. It’s a two-step way of weeding out the crazy that might slip through otherwise.”
Lincoln took the card and nodded at Marsali. “Thanks, Marsali. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. I hope so. You seem like a good man, Lincoln. There are a lot of women out there searching for you.”
He glanced at the card and lightly tapped it against his leg. “We’ll see.”
“Okay. Sales pitch over. I’ll leave you be to enjoy this beautiful night.”
Lincoln stood when Marsali got up and said her goodbyes. Once she headed toward the door to reenter the house, he moved off the deck, into the yard, to an even more private spot to ponder their discussion.
Lincoln turned and stared up at the three-story house fully lit up and bursting at the seams with Mac’s neighbors and colleagues, remembering a time when he and Jill had played hosts for one reason or another during their marriage.
