“So”—Janet glanced down at my résumé—“Felicity. You’d like to be a matchmaker. Can you go into more detail why?” Because my mom threatened bodily harm unless I get off my lazy butt and get a job
. No, that wouldn’t do. Better to try for the more professional approach.
“Well, I believe in true love,” I replied. “I think everyone has a match out there—some people just need a little help finding that special person. I think it would be fun to do that.”
Janet smiled, her bright, white teeth sparkling in...