I know I’ve done a good job when the handshake is quick, the smile is wide and the couple wastes no time to come back together as they head out the door. My assistant, Molly greeted the happy couple as they headed into the hallway and towards the elevator. I leaned against my desk, folded my arms and let out a satisfactory sigh.

Its vain of me to admit, but I love seeing my name Doyle Kincaid etched bold gold letters across my office’s front door. Right above the stellar and well-deserved title of Certified Matchmaker and dating expert. Lights from the hallway glinted off the surface, like a highly polished, well regarded metal trophy.

Molly kept one hand on the door as Clara Thomas, the blushing bride to be gave Molly a huge before she left.

“Doyle, I don’t know how you do it, every time you always can read people’s souls.”

I snickered at her surprise, “Molly, people give cues and attitudes that tell you everything you need to know. What’s next?”

“Will you check my calendar, and get my the social profiles the 10:30 filled out.”

“You’ve got it boss.”

I always made sure I had at least twenty minutes between appointments. It was essential to have time to review what I knew, and what I had learned to make the best choice; my business counted on it.

I liked professionally tailored suits, and a decently furnished office space. An L shaped desk sat positioned where I could sit with my back to the window and kept my computer away from anyone who decided to come in for an impromptu visit. I had a few files cabinets to the right to offer the allusion of theater and depth to my efforts. A few people questioned, but normally people found in this in my books; I had a wide collection ranging from poetry and romance, to science fiction, farm journals and sports histories and statistics for every major team in every major sport, even chess and foreign sports. I undid the small button in one smooth motion, my assistant Molly stood by my desk and received it with a genuine smile. She wore a knee length black skirt and a blue business blouse. Her amber eyes were shielded by round glasses. Her lipstick was flawless, and her hair was in a ponytail, one of seven styles she seemed to sport depending on her day, and how well her college classes were doing. This style spoke of satisfaction and pleasure. She wasn’t the type to go to the questionable parties, so this condition was deep, and well deserved.

“You aced another final, didn’t you?”

Molly had barely hung up my jacket when she turned on her heels and placed her hands on her hips, “Ok seriously, I just go the notification twenty minutes ago. Mr. Kincaid, how did you know that?”

I gave my own satisfactory shrug and settled into my chair, “In this line of work, you have to get good at reading people. There is a science to recognize a person’s interests, habits and preferences. Sometimes, they don’t even know they want it, or if they are doing something which may attract them to a personality type, they hadn’t ever considered before.”

Molly’s gaze reflected an admiring stare, easily mistaken for infatuation, but I had seen that before and I knew she looked at me like a mentor, and I was perfectly ok with that.

“Here’s hoping I’ll learn that,” she mused, as she grabbed a leather day planner and writing pad from a small table where a few flyers, business cards and different colored candies sat in a nice glass bowl. “the last thing I want to do when I get my business up and running is to sell it out to wrong person or miss something important.”

I turned the page in my day planner and kept my tone causal. The last thing I wanted to do was shatter her dreams; event the unrealistic ones despite my opinions and view on the subject.

“Molly,” I finally get out, “here’s a bit of expert advice. You will face those negative possibilities. There is no way to avoid trouble. The best solution to trouble is to make the best out of the difficult situation.”

“Smart words to live by,” said Molly with a nod, “speaking of situations, I better get out of your way so you can make the magic happen before your next appointment shows up, oh there was a message from a Jeremy Wickson, he’s curious if you are free for lunch at 4:15?”

“Please tell him I can’t.”

“Really?” Molly’s voice carried over the pages she flipped in her planner, “I don’t have anything written down.”

“Its personal.” I said, turning my attention to document on my computer.