“Yeah, they were mad. My mom, especially, was not happy.”
“Why’s that, do you think?”
She looked at me, head tilted, as if trying to assess my intention. “She refuses to even consider dating.”
“That’s too bad. She could make someone really happy.”
“Do you think so? Like, do you think her personality’s okay? She can be kind of prickly.”
“I don’t mind a few prickles. I’m good at pruning.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think pruning shears work on thorns.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” I made a face, which made her laugh some more.
“Have you gotten any matches yet?” Annie asked.
“I just put it up, so probably not. Should we look?”
She rubbed her hands together. “This is turning out to be a great day.”
I opened the tab and got into my profile. No matches yet. “I don’t see any. It’s possible I’m unmatchable.”
“Not possible.”
“Is your mom still on here?” I asked, forcing myself to sound simply casually curious.
“No, she made me take it off. But I know her password. Do you want to look at hers?”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to pry.”
But it was too late. Annie had already taken control of my computer, typing furiously. Seconds later, Delphine’s profile popped up. “I wrote it, which she didn’t like, but I thought I captured her pretty well. Not that it did any good.”
I peered over her shoulder to read.
@PaintItBlack
Age: 36
Sensitive artist with a Rock & Roll soul.
Photos
Delphine in her gallery at closing time, soft light falling across her cheekbone as she adjusts a frame—serious, focused, effortlessly striking.
Smiling gently over the rim of a wine glass on her patio, a cardigan draped around her shoulders, the garden blooming behind her.
In her potter’s overalls, wide-brimmed sun hat tilted low, reaching to snip a faded rose in the garden.
