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"I know," Michael said and squeezed my shoulder. "I understand completely. We just have to suck it up, right?"
"You got it."
With that, I went back up to the offices. I had to do some last-minute work before I could get in a bike ride around the park before my afternoon meetings started.
I had a quick shower and dressed, getting ready for my meeting with my headhunter, who was going to start the process of finding me whole new staff for the Chronicle.
I took the elevator down to my office on the forty-seventh floor. I was usually the first one into work at seven o'clock, but that morning I'd had a meeting all morning with Michael at the new build, of course, and then I had my bike ride around Central Park, so I was late getting into the office. The desks were full and my second-in-command came at me with a file in his hand and a clipboard with documents to sign. My admin assistant held out a cup of coffee from my favorite barista down the street.
I was ready for the afternoon."
"When is Marcella going to arrive?" I asked Eli, who placed the clipboard in front of me and handed me my pen.
"She's waiting in the coffee room," Eli replied. "She arrived early and asked if she could sit and use our Wi-Fi to do some work while she waited."
"Bring her in," I said and signed the checks in front of me. Then I opened the file with the label Marcella Binetti, Staffing Specialist. She was the owner and CEO of Binetti Human Resources, which did work now and then for MBS when we had a need for workers.
Within a couple of minutes, in she walked, dressed in her usual black jacket and skirt duo, her black hair with the silver streak done up in an elaborate style. She looked like a fashionable and much friendlier Cruella Deville.
"Marcella," I said and went to meet her, shaking her hand, air kissing her cheeks. I led her to the seating area and we sat down across from each other. She placed her bag on the coffee table, and crossed her legs, studying me carefully.
"So, you're looking to find some staff for the Chronicle," she said, getting right to the point. "How exciting for you to take the paper over and try to resurrect it. But lots of work, I presume."
"Marcella, you would not believe it."
For the next hour, we discussed the positions I needed to fill and what efforts she'd undertake to find the right people.
"Thanks," I said and leaned back in my chair. "You can't imagine how happy I am that you're taking on this job. There's so much to do getting the paper up and running again. Too bad you couldn't find me a wife while you're at it."
"A wife?" she said, frowning. "As if you need my help for that. Honestly, Joshua, you're the last man I know who needs help finding a wife. All you have to do is go to a society function and the women will drip off you if you let them."
"I do need help." I ran my hand through my hair, feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of spending hours on dating sites filling out forms. "I don't have time to spend on this, but at the same time, it has to be done."
Then I told her about the clause in my father's will that gave each of us boys an incentivized trust and that we wouldn't get any money until we married.
"That's too bad," she said, her voice sympathetic. "I still don't think you need any help, Joshua. It should be easy. Go out to as many social functions as you can. Meet as many young single women in your circles as possible. You'll find someone appropriate."
I made a face. "That sounds like work. I always thought that falling in love was a natural process. You meet someone when you least expect it and you fall."
"If you want, I could create a list of suitable women and then arrange meetings with each of them so you can feel each of them out. That might take care of some of your time."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. In the old country, my family had matchmakers and they took care of everything. It would be like The Bachelor but without the cameras," she said and her tone was hard to read. Was she being sarcastic or genuine?
"That's what my brother said to me."
"I have access to so many young professional well-educated women in their twenties and thirties. Surely one of them would be suitable. But if I am going to try to find a wife for you, you have to tell me what you're looking for."
I raised my eyebrows, because it sounded like we were actually talking
about her finding me a wife.
"You're serious?"
"I'm a headhunter. It's only one step removed from being a matchmaker."
I shrugged. "I don’t know if you can find love by listing a bunch of requirements on a piece of paper and interviewing candidates. I want to fall in love."
