ChickLit                   ... #WKLYPrompt ... Prompt #17 ... Word prompt: No one told you how hard pretending to be a matchmaker would be. (800-2000 words)

"Hello Mrs. Williams, are you here for a reading?" I cheerfully asked as one of my aunts' regulars came into the shop. The sign out front read Rissi Family Matchmakers. The shop belonged to my nonna and madre, who were the official matchmakers in the family. However, several smaller signs in the window advertised Palm Reading, Fortunetelling and Psychic Services, which were provided by my four aunts who worked in the shop as well. 

Mrs. Williams gave me a wide smile, flashing me a set of beautiful straight white teeth, and replied "Yes love, I have a 2pm appointment with Carina."

I looked down, double-clicked a couple of tabs and up came Carina's schedule for the day. I sent my aunt a notification that her 2pm appointment had arrived. Then I looked back up at Mrs. Williams and said, "Please have a seat. She'll be right along."

Mrs. Williams took a seat in our little waiting room. She was not alone. We had two other clients waiting in the room with her. Each also had an appointment with one of my aunts. Palm reading, fortunetelling and psychic advice were big business and the clientele these days were most often wealthy women of varying ages and ethnicity who all had disposable incomes.  Sadly, Nonna's and Mamma's match-making business had been on the decline since the 1980s.

I looked over their schedule for today. Only one appointment. Ouch! I frowned realizing Nonna was not going to be happy about the one appointment. If Nonna wasn't happy, then nobody was happy. That's just the way it was in the Rissi household.

I heard the click of a door behind me and sneaking a peek I saw Nonna coming through to the reception area. She had eyes only for me, which left me sighing with resignation. Somehow, I always got the brunt of her complaints and lamentations.

"Valentina," she called me sweetly. "Would you please go in and entertain our guest while your madre and I talk."

Shocked that I wasn't in for a lecture or a rant, I smiled at her, got up right away and headed toward the door she'd just exited. It wasn't uncommon for me to be summoned to chat with the families that came seeking a match-maker. I usually gave them a little family history, answered some basic questions, and offered them coffee or tea.

I knocked lightly on the door and then walked in with a smile on my face. To my surprise there was only one gentleman in the room. He was an older man, perhaps in his 60s, and was very well dressed. He was very attractive for his age and I thought he must have been killer handsome in his day.

He got up straight away, flashed me a brilliantly white smile, and offered me his hand as he said, "You must be Rosa's nipotina." He took my hand in a warm embrace between his own two and gave it a gentle squeeze as I simply smiled and nodded. "Are you a match-maker too, Valentina?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, no," I assured him with a laugh. "I'm just the off and on receptionist, Mister ..." I paused looking at him expectantly.

He blushed under his tan skin, let my hand go and clapped his two weathered but long and elegant hands together in embarrassment. "My apologies Valentina. I am Amadeo Russo. I use to work with your father years and years ago at the docks. I was his supervisor in those days. But I don't suppose you remember me?" He smiled with genuine warmth.

"No, I'm afraid I don't remember," I said with a little frown.

"Well, it was a long time ago," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I came with my wife and son, Lando, a few times. You couldn't have been more than 4 or 5. Lando would have been 12 or 13."

"I see, " I replied as I smiled politely and indicated he should sit back down. "Can I get you anything Mr Russo? Coffee? Tea?"

He was quick to reply, "No, nothing. And please, just call me Amadeo."

I gave him a little nod and sat down across from him at the small conference table. "Are you here to see about Match-making?" I asked.

He smiled a bit nervously at me and I thought it was sweet. I gave him a reassuring smile in return. 

"I'm here about my son."

"You want to see him settled?" I asked with an understanding smile.

He nodded and then he gave me a peculiar look before clearing his throat and asking me, "I hope you wont think me rude Valentina, but, are you settled?"

The question was a bit unexpected but it was delivered so politely that it only made me laugh goodnaturedly as I answered and said, "No, not yet, which I think pleases Mamma since I am her only daughter but frustrates Nonna because she wants to have a pronipote."

He gave me a fatherly smile and said quietly, "I would be happy just to see Lando settled right now. He's 35 and I worry." He smiled brightly before laughing a little and offering, "I can wait for nipotini."

I gave him a corresponding smile. "I'm sure Nonna and Mamma will find a wonderful match for your Lando."

He frowned a little and then gave me a slightly sheepish grin. "Well, about that. Lando knows I'm here. He'll be arriving shortly himself. He's agreed to the match-making but he refuses to let some 'old woman', those were his words," he explained in a rush, "set him up."

Amadeo looked at me with an anxious expression and I waited for the punchline. "Would you be willing to play match-maker for me this afternoon?"

It didn't happen often, but from time to time parents made this sort of request. So, I smiled openly at Amadeo and easily replied, "Yes, of course I can do that. When is Lando arriving?"

Amadeo let out a relieved sigh and grinned at me. "Thank you Valentina. Your Nonna thought you wouldn't object. I'm so pleased. Especially, given the short notice." He looked truly grateful, which made me feel all the happier to help him out.

"Lando is due to arrive at 2:30pm," he told me as he checked his cellphone.

That didn't give me much time to look over the candidate list for his son. I got up right away and excused myself from the room. I found Nonna and Mamma in the little staff lounge at the back of the shop. The two of them smiled at me and said in unison, "So, you'll do it, tesoro?"

I laughed and nodded. Nonna produced the Match-book, which was a thin, white, three ring binder with the pictures and bios of all the prospective matches printed out and snapped in there for the clients to easily peruse.  It was old school but functional. I sat down and started looking through the pictures.

Flipping through the binder I frowned. Usually, Nonna or Mamma would present the family with women who fit a specific criteria, which could revolve around education, family background, religion, looks or a combination of these characteristics. However, this book had no theme running through it at all. It was just a hodgepodge of profiles.

"Does Amadeo have a certain type of woman in mind for his son?" I asked Nonna and Mamma.

"No," Nonna said quite decisively. "He says he'll know who is the right girl when he sees her."

I looked up at her with surprise. He came across as the sort of man who would think long and hard on something so important. I was a little disappointed with him and a little anxious for his son.

"How will he know from a picture?" I complained.

Mamma laughed. "Amadeo will know. He's like your Nonna. He makes up his mind quickly about people and he's seldom wrong. Isn't that so Mamma?"

Nonna gave her a cheeky grin but said nothing. Instead, she came over to where I was sitting, clasped my face in her hands and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "You better go in. Don't keep Lando waiting."

"Has he arrived already?" I asked as I nervously twisted in the chair to see the microwave clock. It read 2:21pm. I got up from the table and clutched the binder to my chest. It looked like it was up to me - the make-believe match-maker - to help find a suitable partner for Amadeo's son. I just hoped the son had more sense than the father when it came to choosing a life partner.

                                                            ---------------

Tapping on the door to the little conference room once again I announced my arrival with a cheerful "Hello," which I reserved just for clients.

I expected to see Amadeo and his son but only his son was present. The family resemblance was remarkable. They were carbon copies of each other. The only real difference between them was the colour of their eyes. Amadeo's had been an inviting dark brown but Lando's were an enchanting amber colour. Quite unusual.

I gave Lando a warm smile and extended my hand in greeting as I said, "You must be the younger Mr. Russo."

He shook my hand gently but firmly and with a charming smile replied, "Please, call me Lan. No one ever calls me Mr. Russo."

Standing half an arm's length from him, as his hand enveloped mine, I could see that his eyes were even more striking up close. A woman could fall in love with those eyes alone, I thought with a little sigh. And, looking over his face, I also thought it might not take much for a woman to fall in love with the rest of him either.

It took me a moment to realize Lan hadn't relinquished my hand just yet, which was sort of wonderful. But then I blushed with embarrassment when I realized I still hadn't given him my name!

"I am Valentina," I blurted out with a little grimace.

"That's a beautiful name," he said sweetly and sincerely. I thought I was going to melt!

Feeling self-conscious and pleased by the compliment he'd just paid me, I was both happy and reluctant to tug my hand from his. There was seriously something wrong with me though. I really wasn't acting at all like my usual self. I was always so much more professional with clients than this. I hoped I wasn't making a fool of myself just because he had the most amazing eyes I'd ever seen and the most appealing personal charm too.

Trying to get a grip, I placed the binder on the table and offered him a seat. I sat down next to him and flipped the binder open. It was time to stop ogling him and just get down to the business of match-making.

As I flipped open to the first candidate, Lan reached out his hand and laid it over mine. I didn't dare look at him. I was feeling strangely breathless as he leaned toward me and asked, "Are you my match-maker, Valentina?"

I looked at that warm hand and I replied, "Just for today."

Why did he have to be so attractive, I asked myself? It was torture. For the first time, in the ten years I'd been helping out at the shop, I sincerely wished my profile was in the binder. Blushing a little at my own foolish and distracted thoughts I turned my head to look at him, and asked, "Are you looking for something in particular?"

He simply responded by squeezing my hand and giving me the most beguiling smile.

(1955)