A Match Made on Madison (The Matchmaker Chronicles) Read Free

I’m sitting here, too.” I frowned at them both, waving my martini glass at them. Not a good idea as it turned out, since the liquid also went flying. Fortunately no one seemed to notice except our still hovering waiter, who immediately produced a fresh napkin. “And, anyway, I found him first.”
    “Darling, no one found him. He was here before we were. And besides, if anyone can land him, you know it will be me. I simply have more experience.”
    Of course she was right, but I’d had three-plus martinis and I hated to be bested at anything. “Experience isn’t everything. There’s technique involved. And you always did say I have amazing instincts.”
    “Instincts, yes. Technique, not so much. Besides, I’m the one who landed Walski as a client.” She sat back, crossing her arms as if she’d trumped me. But I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.
    “Walski practically had ‘marriageable’ tattooed on his forehead. Anyone with half a brain could have hooked him up.”
    “Maybe,” she acquiesced with a shrug, “but not with Susannah Barker.”
    “How about John Pollard? He’d been notoriously single for years. And I managed to snag him almost right out of the gate. And marry him off, happily, I might add, three months later.”
    “Pollard could be Pierce Brosnan’s twin. There’s not a woman alive who wouldn’t marry him if given the opportunity,” she countered, tossing back the rest of her martini.
    “Yes, but he wasn’t quite as easy to please. And yet,” I paused for effect, “I did it. Which means that I am more than up to the task of convincing Mark Grayson that it’s time for him to take the plunge. And if we’re really rolling out the big guns,” I paused again for effect, “there’s always Franklin Pierpont.” Despite my subsequent defection, Althea knew I’d saved her ass on that one.
    “Maybe you both should give it a go.” Cybil’s seemingly offhanded remark had exactly the effect she’d intended, both our heads turning in unison in her direction.
    “How do you propose we do that? We can hardly share a client,” Althea said.
    “I’m not saying that you should.”
    “But you said . . .” This was getting interesting.
    “I said that you should both try. I frankly don’t think either of you will succeed. But a little competition might be interesting. You’ve got to admit, Althea, that Vanessa has become quite successful. And, Vanessa, you’re always complaining that Althea gets all the attention. So why not prove who’s the best by seeing which of you can snare Mark Grayson. And once there’s a winner, I’ll announce it in my column. That way everyone will see it. The verdict will be final. And one of you will be crowned the ruler of matrimonial Manhattan.”
    The idea had definite appeal. I mean, Althea might be mentor and friend but, let’s face it, she was big-time competition as well, and the idea of proving myself once and for all was almost irresistible. Not to mention the idea of having the fact touted before most of the free world. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that Cybil’s column was an international must-read.
    I glanced over at Althea, who was trying to appear uninterested, but I could see the calculation in her eyes.
    “So the first one to sign him as a client wins?”
    “No way.” Cybil laughed, idly rubbing her finger around the rim of her glass. “That would be too easy. In order to win, you have to dance at the man’s wedding. I mean, marrying him off is the whole point, isn’t it? Signing him as a client is only half the challenge.”
    “I don’t know.” Althea shook her head, her eyes on Grayson, who had paid his check and was now ushering runway girl out of the bar. “Matchmaking isn’t an exact science.”
    “Oh, please.” Cybil sighed. “You just spent half an hour telling me how marriage is nothing more than a business deal. Are you saying now that you’re not up to the task?”
    I popped an olive into my mouth,