“This is the best sangria I’ve ever had,” Cynthia says, finishing her glass and pouring herself another. We are sitting on the little porch in front of my apartment. It’s not so much a porch as a walkway leading to the stairs downstairs, but I’m the only one up here so I’ve decorated it like it’s my porch. I bought a pair of natural wood Adirondack chairs and painted them myself. I’m sitting in the bright yellow one, and Cynthia’s occupying the bright blue one. The pitcher of sangria stands between us on a small side table. I had purchased from the thrift store downstairs. I like it, because it’s from another world altogether. The legs are sleek, like midcentury modern, and the top is made up of tiny little pieces of Mexican tile. It is as if someone had broken a colorful piece of pottery and then glued all the pieces on top of the table.

“It is quite good,” I nod. Sangria is one of my specialties. I’m not actually a big fan of wine, but wine with fruit, brandy and brown sugar is hard to pass up.

“So…” Cynthia says, turning to me. Her eyes sparkle mischievously.

“So?” I ask. “So what?”

“Happy birthday!!” she yells.

“Oh that,” I mumble.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s your 25^th birthday! We have to celebrate.”

I sigh. 25 years already. I should be more excited, but for some reason I’m not. Frankly, I was hoping that she would forget all about it.

“I’m too tired to celebrate,” I say. It’s not a lie. I am exhausted. Working on those centerpieces and taking care of all the customers who have been coming in for the last couple of days have really taken it all out of me.

“No, absolutely not,” Cynthia shakes her head. “You’re not getting out of this that easily. I have reservations, tonight. Well, actually in an hour,” she says looking at the time on phone. “At that place in Malibu that you like.”

“The one with the ocean view?” I ask. That doesn’t really narrow it down. Almost all restaurants in Malibu have an ocean view, but Cynthia and I know each other very well.

She nods. “The one with the blue shutters.”

“Well, if it’s the one with the blue shutters,” I say with a shrug. “How can I say no?”

“And before we do that, I have something else for you.”

“We said no presents,” I remind her.

“That was before your business was doing so well that you actually gave me a job! You’re getting this present. And I’m certainly expecting a present from you in a couple of months.”

I smile. Cynthia reaches into her large Louis Vuitton purse and rustles through it, looking for something. I do not pay Cynthia enough for her to be able to afford a Louis Vuitton – their bags start at as much as I pay for a month of rent for my apartment – and this one is about double in size, so it must cost at least double if not triple that. Cynthia has always enjoyed the finer things in life and even before she started working for me, she spent all of her money from bar-tending on purses and shoes. It also helps that her parents don’t mind helping her out a bit, or a lot, to cover the necessities like her car and her apartment.

Cynthia finally emerges from her bag with an envelope. She holds it up above her head.

“Okay. But before I give this to you, I want to tell you that this was nearly impossible to get. I know that this isn’t your style or anything, but I want you to give this a chance. This woman is very good at what she does.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I nod anyway. She hands me the envelope. Inside, I find a beautiful white card with elegant script that reads ‘Happy Birthday.’ I open the card. A small postcard falls out onto my lap. The front of it says, Dolly Monroe, billionaire matchmaker. The back reads Good for one free consultation.

“What is this?” I ask.

The inside of the card also has a few kind words from Cynthia in her elegant handwriting, but I can’t focus on that right now.

“Well, I was thinking about what to get you for this very important birthday. I was sort of reflecting on your life, and I was thinking that despite what happened a few years ago with your parents, you have a lot to be thankful for. Your business is very busy, much busier than you ever thought it would be, you have amazing friends, mainly me, and there’s really only one thing missing.”

I wait for her to finish her thought.

“A man! And not just some guy, a real man.”

“So you got me a consultation with a matchmaker?” I ask. “Can’t I just go online to get a date?”

“Yes, you can. But I don’t want you to just find some guy. I want to help you find the one. And a little birdie told me that this woman, Dolly Monroe, well, she’s the best!”

I look at the card again. It is very thick stock and a rich color of ivory. As someone who recently spent a little money on designing and ordering business cards, I know that this one cost a pretty penny.

“Does she have a website?” I ask. I want to look her up right away.

“No,” Cynthia says with a coy smile. “That’s the thing about her. She’s very exclusive. She doesn’t advertise to the public. It’s all word of mouth.”

“I don’t get it,” I say.

“I don’t know either. But there’s a phone number on the card. You have to call it and make an appointment. Then she’ll tell you her address. A friend of mine used it.”

“Did she find someone?”

“She found her husband,” Cynthia says.

“Oh, you mean Isabel?” I ask. Cynthia nods. I don’t know Isabel personally. She’s a friend of Cynthia’s from this place in Belize where her parents have a vacation condo. Isabel is from Texas, and her claim to fame is that she married a very rich rancher in West Texas. And they are apparently insanely happy.

“I didn’t know this then, but Dolly apparently set them up. It’s part of the contract that the couple isn’t supposed to talk about her until after some time passes. Not sure why.”

“So this Dolly, she’s a matchmaker? And that’s all she does?” I ask.

“Yes. But not just some matchmaker. A billionaire matchmaker.”

“But I don’t want to meet a billionaire,” I say.

“You don’t want to meet a billionaire? Are you crazy?”

“No, I don’t really want to meet anyone right now. Let alone, some rich prick with a Hollywood attitude who thinks he is God’s gift to women.”

Cynthia shakes her head.

“This is your gift from me. I want you to at least give it a chance. Just meet with her. Will you do that?”

I sigh. I don’t want to. Cynthia should know better. The thing is that my resistance doesn’t even have anything to do with Dolly or the men she would match me with. It’s all me.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” I say.

“You’re ready. I know you are.”

I don’t have to tell Cynthia what I’m thinking. She knows it all too well. Cal, my ex, and I broke up almost five months ago, but he still won’t leave me alone. I met him through Cynthia – they work at the same restaurant. We dated for three months, and then things got too intense for me. He always wanted to know what I was doing and where I was going. He went as far as putting a tracker on my phone to check up on my whereabouts. Real stalker. When I finally decided that enough was enough, he choked me until I passed out and just left me there. I could’ve died. I would’ve if my neighbor didn’t invite herself over without knocking and ask to borrow some eggs. It was she who found me and called an ambulance.

It was over for us after that. Or so I had thought. I took out a restraining order. The judge ordered him to stay away from me. So far he has, but I still get the sneaking suspicion that, though I haven’t actually seen him, he’s around and watching me.

“This is going to be good for you,” Cynthia says, taking my hand into hers. “Something positive in your life. Who knows, maybe you’ll even have fun.”

“You know, not everyone can be as happy as you and Todd,” I say. Cynthia has been with her boyfriend, Todd, since we were all freshmen at USC. They are two peas in a pod – best friends. I haven’t even seen them fight, once! My parents were like that too.

“Maybe not everyone. But I know you can. You deserve it. And I want to help you to find him.”

“And you think that this billionaire matchmaker can help me?” I ask.

“I know it’s silly. But what if she can? She has a great track record. She used to set up regular people way before she set up billionaires.”

I look at the card once again.

“Okay,” I finally say. “I guess I’ll give it a shot. About time that I moved on, right?”