Caroline finished. “Her name is Munch.”
Dear Mr. Santos,
I received your profile. It was quite detailed. But I imagine that’s part of the sizeable fee we’re paying. This isn’t like any other matchmaking service, is it? Annual gross income, detailed personality profiles, education history. One might think we were applying for a job with the CIA rather than just looking for someone. You asked what I wanted to know about you. So many things, I suppose. What you like. What you don’t like. Your hobbies, your passions. Why you chose to go this route to find a wife.
As for me, you were right in saying I’m a writer, but I have to confess it’s not as exciting as most people believe. I spend a lot of time on my own. I had a cat, but he recently passed away. I’m thinking of getting a kitten. They are great company.
Regards,
Caroline
“Come on in. Mr. S. said to show you around the place.”
“He’s not here?” Caroline tried to decide whether she was disappointed or relieved.
“Gosh no, Mr. S. is like never here. I take care of Munch during the day. I walk her a few times and sometimes I even have to come back in the evening if Mr. S. is pulling an all-nighter. This is the foyer, obviously. Off to the right is the kitchen. It’s totally tricked out with the best appliances.”
Caroline nodded and reached down to find Munch pressed up against her leg. She rubbed the animal’s short silky fur and thought how sad it was that such an affectionate creature was so often left alone by her master.
“Down those steps to the left is the living room. There is a really cool flat-screen over the fake fireplace. Then from there down another few steps is the pool house. Wait until you see that. It’s wicked.”
Tuning out her tour guide, Caroline tried to study her surroundings. A house could say so much about the person. Hers certainly did. Every stick of furniture she’d chosen. Every picture she’d hung. Antique pieces mixed with modern. The local artist she discovered at a small gallery opening in D.C. There was her mother’s milk pitcher collection. Her aunt’s dolls. Those she held on to, too. But they were still part of her.
There weren’t many pictures on Dominic’s wall. Two modern-art blasts of color that were probably recommended by a decorator. The few items of furniture were quality, but the space still seemed empty. The outside was a study in cutting-edge architectural design with rounded stone levels that resembled a weathered staircase. The inside reflected none of that radical theme.
Caroline followed the girl, who had eventually introduced herself as Cindy, to another open area that on one side looked like a very high-tech office space and on the other an advanced gym. Her attention was quickly captured by the pool that gleamed through the glass doors.
Drawn to it, she ignored Cindy’s explanation of the various different aerobic machines and opened the door that led to what was a room entirely enclosed in glass. The smell of chlorine punched her in the face, but it was a clean smell. Beyond the pool, looking out the glass walls she could see the waves rolling up against the sand below. The effect was amazing. She predicted that swimming in this pool would feel like swimming high on top of the ocean.
“I know,” Cindy said apparently reading Caroline’s thoughts. “Isn’t it, like, so awesome? Mr. S. says I can swim in it any time I want when I’m here. And in the winter it’s heated.”
Caroline nodded. Yes, it was awesome.
Dear Caroline,
My hobbies, my likes, my passions all revolve around the same thing: my work. My partner, Denny, and I founded and built Encrypton into a successful business. We’ve recently taken on a new partner to help grow it into something even bigger. It’s a very busy time for us. I want to be clear—I am what most would consider a workaholic. I don’t apologize for that and I don’t see it changing. You asked why I chose this method to look for a wife. The truth is, this was the least time-consuming. If you would still like to communicate perhaps I could call you.
Dominic
P.S. I have a dog. You mentioned you once had a cat. I don’t know if you like dogs. Her name is Munch. She used to chew things as a puppy.
“That’s the tour,” Cindy proclaimed as they stood in what was Dominic’s master bedroom. More glass walls provided another perfect view of the ocean. It was an odd contrast, this sense of isolation mixed with a feeling of openness.
“I appreciate you showing me around.”
“No problem. I guess I’ll go. You’re okay with Munch, right?”
The dog was plastered against her thigh and her tail was wagging so hard Caroline wondered if the poor thing would shake apart. Maybe she knew that Caroline had come to give her company.
“I’m fine. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Caroline didn’t bother showing the girl out. She didn’t feel completely comfortable with the ritual as it wasn’t really her place. She was more of a guest than Cindy.
When the house was completely quiet she sat on the bed and saw that her suitcase had been left in this room. His room.
“Can I tell you a secret, Munch?”
“Roof!” Munch replied.
“I’m really a coward.”
“Roof. Roof.”
“No it’s true. I thought I wanted this. A husband. A baby. But now I’m not sure this is the right way. I don’t even know this person. I don’t know if I can do this. If I’m brave enough.”
“Roof. Roof!”
“All right. If you say so.”
Caroline patted her new friend’s head and contemplated the large king-size bed behind her. She was so tired. From the trip, the anticipation, the anxiety. Lying down, she instantly felt a dip as Munch leaped onto the bed with her and settled down at her back. The faint hint of a masculine aroma drifted up from the pillow. Caroline thought it smelled rather nice.
She reached behind her and patted Munch. The dog’s presence was ridiculously reassuring. “Seriously, what if this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life?” she whispered.
This time there was no answer.
Dominic Santos stared out the window of his office which overlooked a valley that, despite its name, wasn’t really made out of silicon. Frustrated by how little he’d done all day, he returned to his desk but only to check the time on his computer again.
It was only one minute since the last time he looked.
What the hell was he doing? He was behaving like some love-struck teenager and he didn’t appreciate the feeling. That’s not what this visit was about. This was a test—for both of them—nothing
