"You're not a terrible friend."
"I made you look at that sculpture," Fiona said. "At the very least I condoned the rape of your eyes."
"You have such a way with words."
"Are you suggesting that I should try writing?" she asked.
I steered us to an empty bench in a quiet corner of the gallery. I sat her down. "Look, I have something important to tell you."
Fiona finally bought a clue and noticed all my nervous energy. "What's going on? Is this about the cop?"
"What? No." I shook my head. "This has nothing to do with him."
"Are you sure? Because I sensed that you and Brad had a special connection."
"His name is Burt."
"See, you remembered his named."
"It's what normal people do," I said.
"Did he ask you to marry him?"
I stared at Fiona, aghast. "What? No. I said this has nothing to do with Burt."
"That's what your mouth might have said, but your eyes said differently," Fiona whispered. She got up, trying to gaze deeper into my eyes for some hidden meaning.
I pushed her back down onto the bench. "Stop. Please stop. This has nothing to do with Burt."
"Did somebody else ask you to marry them?"
"This has nothing to do with any kind of marriage proposal," I said.
Fiona tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure? Because I had a dream last night where you got married."
I sighed. "If you could be quiet for, like, five minutes, you'd find out what this is all about."
Fiona held up her hands. "Wow. Somebody's a little touchy. Fine. Give me your big news that has nothing to do with Brad or marriage." She didn't sound very convinced.
I started wringing my hands. "Okay, so you know my family? Dad, Mom, Luke and Sarah?"
"Yes." Fiona slowly nodded her head, eyeing my hands suspiciously. "I am familiar with them. You've invited me over for a couple of Christmas dinners."
"Well, there's kind of a family secret," I said.
Fiona leaned forward immediately. "Oooh, I love secrets."
"This is not as juicy as you think it is," I warned her.
"I'll be the judge of it's juiciness."
"There aren't any skeletons in any closets," I said. "Nobody had an affair."
She closed her eyes and sighed, obviously disappointed. "Fine. What's the big secret."
"That being said, you still can't tell anybody," I added.
"I'm hurt that you would even think that I would do such a thing," Fiona said. "How many years have we've been friends? Have I ever betrayed you?"
"You tried to set me up with Robert Peele in college."
"I was trying to help you."
"After I told you I wanted nothing to do with him."
"I thought that was because you were madly in love with him."
"You know nothing about the human condition.
She waved an impatient hand. "Just go on with the stupid secret already."
I took a deep breath. I was super nervous now. I've actually never spoken about this to anyone outside the family. "My Dad is Cupid."
Chapter Six
Seeing as I had never shared this information with anybody outside the family before, I wasn't really sure what kind of reaction I could expect, even from somebody as open-minded as Fiona.
That being said, an exaggerated eye roll of disinterest wasn't even anywhere near the list of expected reactions.
Then I realized the context.
I held up my hand before she could say anything. "Okay, hold up. Let me finish."
"You're not finished?"
"I know this seems weird," I quickly continued. "Especially given the fact that my Dad runs a a very successful international matchmaking service called Cupid, Inc. But what you have to understand is that it's not just a business for my Dad."
Fiona looked more bored than confused. This was not how I expected this to go.
"My Dad, Michael Valentine, is actually Cupid," I said, the same way a little kid proudly announces that their father is the best cop in the neighborhood. Then I added, "Kinda. Sorta."
Fiona sighed. "I have no idea what's going on. Is this supposed to be a practical joke of some kind? Because it's not very funny. You do know how to tell a joke, right?"
"It's not a joke," I said. "I'm trying to tell you a massive family secret here."
"It doesn't feel like it."
"Maybe I'm doing this wrong," I muttered.
Fiona got to her feet. "You want another day to get your story straightened out?"
I shook my head and gently pushed Fiona back down onto the bench. "No. Listen. You know who Cupid is?"
"Sure. He's the little baby that goes around with the bow and arrow, helping people find true love."
"Right. And that's my Dad," I said. "Except he's not a baby and he doesn't use a bow and arrow."
Fiona frowned. "Now you've totally lost me. Did you hit your head or something?"
I sighed. "My Dad is Cupid."
"You keep saying that, but it's not making anymore sense than when you said it the first time."
"He's not the original Cupid," I continued. I just started throwing it all out there and hoped that it made some kind of bizarre sense to Fiona. If it didn't, well, I was probably going to have to start holding auditions for a new best friend. "The original Cupid, well, he's more or less long dead. I mean, not more or less. He is dead. My Dad is, you know, a descendant of the original Cupid.
"In most of the legends and myths, Cupid is usually considered the god of love or some kind of love-oriented deity. But that's not how it really is. It's more like..." I floundered for a moment, making weird hand gestures. "It's kind of like Superman. You know how Superman has superpowers? Cupid isn’t a god, he’s just a guy with superpowers. Kind of. And his descendants have superpowers, Kind of. I mean, it's not like my Dad can force people to fall in love with his mind. I mean, I assume he can't do that. I've never seen him do that. His superpower is more of, I don't know, an intuition? Does that make sense? I mean, he really does know who's supposed to be together.
"It's, well, it's kind of like a mantle that gets passed down every generation or so. So, it's not like a straight up inheritance of superpowers. I mean, as long as my Dad is alive, I don't have any special powers. Which, of course, makes me sound like I want my Dad to drop dead, which I don't. Heck, I don't even want to be in the family business. That's a whole 'nother issue though, really. But basically, Dad doesn't have to die for the mantle to pass. He just has to retire. Which is good, because my family tends to have unusually long lifespans. My Grandpa? He was the Cupid before my Dad, he lived to be one hundred and ten. So, my Dad's got plenty of years ahead of him.
"Up until my Dad took over, it was very jet-setting and flying all over the place, helping people find true love. Then with the internet my Dad realized that he could reach billions of people all at once. Everybody else was building some kind of online dating site, why shouldn't Cupid? That's why it's the most successful dating site out there, because it's run by a guy who actually knows what's True Love and who's compatible with who.
"Dad keeps a couple of offices in the larger cities around the world to manage the business and for more of the person-to-person matchmaking. It's a way to kind of keep the old ways alive, but most of the day-to-day magic is done through the website.
"And I'm talking real magic. Not David Copperfield-style magic. I mean, like, real fairy dust magic. Although, I don't really know if there's fairy dust involved. I would assume there's fairy dust involved or something like it. I mean, it's always made sense to me that there would be. Of course, now it's all gigabytes and motherboards. Honestly, I'm not really sure how any of it works, old school or new school.
"Dad keeps three main offices: one in Italy, one in Hong Kong and one right here in New York. Sarah runs the Hong Kong office, Luke runs the New York office and Dad runs the Rome office with his brother, Uncle Matthew.
"Remember ho
w I said it's a mantle that gets passed down? Usually it gets passed to the eldest in the family, which is my brother, Luke. The problem is that Luke is not a very good Cupid. Did you see the New York Post this morning? That dating disaster with the singer? Completely Luke's fault. Apparently he totally botched up the entire matching. I don't know what exactly happened, but it was clearly a disaster of epic proportions. Sarah's the youngest and she loves being in Hong Kong, and she also has no head for leadership. So that basically leaves me.
"Today, my Dad came by and tried to convince me to come back to the family business. He said it's just to head up the New York office, but I'm pretty sure he's going to want me to take over when he retires. He basically said as much. I mean, he didn't say those exact words, but he hinted pretty strongly at it. And, as I said before, I'm really not interested in going back.
"So, I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to tell somebody about this. I needed to vent. I needed to talk. You're my best friend and I couldn't think of anybody better suited to hearing me out on this."
I finally ran out of breath.
Fiona sat there, staring at me, her mouth hanging open.
I snapped my fingers in her face. "Hello? Are you still there?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Are you being serious?"
"Am I being serious?" What kind of question was that? I was definitely the more serious of the two of us. I mean, I was practically babbling like a brook. I only do that when I'm serious. Or nervous. Or angry. Or scared. You know what? Nevermind.
"I'm dead serious," I said.
Fiona blinked and then she burst out laughing.
Why was she laughing? Laughing was not an acceptable reaction. It was the opposite of an acceptable reaction. In fact, if I had to choose, I'd prefer the exaggerated eye roll of disinterest over laughing.
I took a step back and looked around. I was certain that her hysterical laughter was going to attract attention. I'm pretty sure that it was, like, a rule that you weren't supposed to be this loud in an art gallery. We were going to get tossed out by the museum police and then I was going to have to explain to my bosses about why I have a record at a local art gallery.
"Why are you laughing?" I hissed at her.
She replied with only more laughter.
"Stop laughing," I said. "Seriously, stop it."
She didn't stop it.
"This is going to have serious repercussions on my self-esteem," I told her. "Also, it could really have a negative impact on our relationship. As in, I'm never going to tell you anything ever again."
She just laughed some more.
I sighed and threw my hands up. "What could have I possibly said that was this funny? I basically bared my family's secret history to you and your response is to laugh hysterically. You must see how this makes zero sense."
Fiona snorted loudly. She did that when she laughed this much. "You're Cupid's daughter and you work as a divorce attorney?"
"Oh. That." I folded my arms, frowning. "Yes, I know. It's ironic."
"It's beyond ironic." Fiona wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "It's something else."
"We can discuss that part later," I started.
"Oh, no," she said. "I want to discuss that part now. How do you end up working as a divorce attorney when your dad is Cupid?"
This was not where I wanted the conversation to go.
"Look, you need to stop laughing so that I can tell you the part that's really bothering me," I said. I tried to sound as serious as I possibly could. Yes, she was laughing at me in a way, but Fiona's laughter could be very contagious. "Seriously. I haven't even gotten to the part that's going to blow your mind."
Fiona took a deep breath, calming herself down. She wiped at her remaining tears. "I'm pretty sure that my mind's already blown."
"Yeah, well, prepare to get it blown again," I said. "And this time, don't laugh."
"I'll try not to."
"My Dad wants me to reunite the couple I just divorced."
That got her to stop laughing.
Chapter Seven
Fiona finally agreed to move our conversation to a coffee house. Over caramel lattes, I filled her in on the rest of my conversation with my Dad. After Fiona calmed down from her hysterical laughter she took it all in stride. I could see in her eyes she was still a little unsure whether or not I was pulling her leg, but she was willing to go along with it. She really was a great friend.
You know, when she wasn't laughing at me.
"So," Fiona said, taking a sip from her latte, "did your Dad say why the Drapers need to be reunited?"
"No."
"It's not, like, the fate of the world hangs in the balance?"
"It's love and romance, Fi," I said.
"Well, I just wanted to be sure."
I shook my head.
She cupped her hands around her drink and leaned forward, stretching her back. "So, what do you think?"
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask you?"
"About the Drapers," Fiona clarified. "I mean, your father seems to think you're the woman for the job."
"Yeah, he thinks I'm the woman for the job because he wants me back on the job. Did you see the article on that singer's date last night?"
"Yes, but if we ignore all that, and since you won't tell me why you're working as a divorce attorney when your dad is Cupid, I don't see how we can really cover that issue," Fiona said. "If we ignore all that, we're left with exactly the situation your father left you with: a recently divorced couple that apparently wasn't supposed to get a divorce. You must have an opinion on them. I mean, I have an opinion on them and I never even met them."
"You have an opinion on everything," I said.
Fiona gave me one of those looks that said she wasn't going to be distracted from her point. I sighed.
"I don't know," I said. "I spent most of my time with the wife and she was..." I shrugged. "You know, not the most pleasant person in the world to be around."
"So, you think maybe he had some valid grounds for divorce?"
I made a face, taking a sip from my drink. "I don't know that being an awkward frost queen is a good reason to get a divorce."
Fiona shrugged. "People have gotten divorced for less. Did I ever tell you about my cousin that called it quits with his wife because she collected action figures?"
"I think you mean dolls."
"No, I mean action figures," Fiona said. "The kind you find in the boy's section of the toy aisle. She collected all of them: Star Trek, Star Wars, Superman, Batman, the works."
"Seriously?"
She nodded. "Seriously. She didn't play with them, of course. She kept them sealed in their original packaging so, you know, they'd be worth more."
“Worth more what?”
“Money, I guess.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Fiona said. “Apparently, some of the older and rare figures sell for quite a bit.”
"Well, either way, it doesn't really sound like something she could have kept from your cousin until after they were married," I said. "I feel as though he should have noticed the boxes of action figures around her place."
"Oh, he knew all about it," Fiona replied. "He just thought that once they got married she'd stop collecting and magically transform into the perfect housewife. Well, she didn't and three years later they're calling it quits."
"All because she collected action figures?" I sounded dubious, and with good reason. It seemed like a pretty weak excuse for a divorce.
Fiona shrugged. "Hey, he wanted out. He would have used anything to get out. Being an awkward frost queen sounds a lot more reasonable in comparison."
"Yeah," I said. "I guess. But, they must have loved each other at some point, right?"
"My cousin and his ex or the Drapers?"
"The Drapers," I said. "I don't want to talk about your cousin anymore. He's weird."
"What was he like?"
"Mr. Draper?" I thought about it for a moment. "Sad, I guess."
"Well, I was more focused on finding weaknesses to exploit, you know," I explained. "I was trying to get Mrs. Draper all the good stuff."
"Why does your father think you're good at this exactly?" Fiona asked.
I did a palms up. "Mr. Draper didn't seem angry. The meetings were always cold. Both of them avoided talking to the other. From the outside, maybe he looked angry, but I don't think he was."
Fiona drummed her fingers on the table. "So, you're left with sad?"
"Like I said, I was looking for weaknesses to exploit," I replied. "Being sad is a great one. Sadness can easily lead to guilt and once you're at guilt, my job becomes a lot easier."
"So...?" Fiona prompted.
"So," I shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well," Fiona said in that 'I am a worldly woman who knows many things' voice, "it's been my experience that love is fleeting. Usually it's fleeting right out the door some time around the second or third month of a relationship for me, but it's fleeting nonetheless."
"You know, when you speak of your own relationship experience, I tend to think you're the exception to the rule."
"As long as you're thinking of me," Fiona replied. "It's really all any artist ever wants: to be thought of."
I just shook my head.
"Emma, dear, darling," Fiona said. "Marriage is not easy. I know a little something about this since my sister’s done it once."
"She was married for all of six months to the Italian hottie in your art class so he wouldn't get deported."
"She was still married."
"It was a sham marriage," I said.
"A sham marriage is still a marriage at the end of the day," Fiona said. "And it still requires work. Maybe the Drapers got tired of working."
“A sham marriage requires work because both parties need to make sure they’re keeping their stories straight,” I pointed out. “That wasn’t a problem the Drapers had.”
“You assume.”
I shook my head. "At some point in time, they must have loved each other."
Fiona tilted her head. "I'm confused now. Are you convincing me that I should be convincing you to help them?"
Cupid's Daughter Page 4
