Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Soulmate Adjacent
LORNA
Lorna stood back to consult the massive corkboard in her office after tacking up a picture of Jamie Frisco.
The panel itself was taking on police evidence board vibes as it was slowly being filled with a collage of items including a photo of Cliff Weston, Post-it notes, pictures of three local restaurants, a map, a calendar with two circled dates, and in the middle of the board, a small cartoon table with six chairs around it.
A line of red string led from Cliff’s photo down to one of the seats at the table.
Lorna drew a big question mark next to Jamie’s picture and pondered it.
Jamie Frisco was challenging, slightly combative, naturally suspicious …
and totally perfect. It had taken all of three minutes after meeting Jamie at Angel’s Salon for Lorna to ascertain that she could be the next single in her Dinner for Six puzzle.
Her mind was buzzing with anticipation. As her fingers tapped quickly at the keyboard, setting up the plan, she wondered if Cliff used to feel this way before pulling off a heist, or Jamie before nailing a perp.
The sheer joy of it. Though she was fairly sure she had the better job over those two.
Another thing she could appreciate: Elaine Cromwell Frisco’s sales tactic—undersell her and let Jamie overdeliver.
Lorna was not surprised to find a chip the size of Saturn firmly on Jamie’s shoulder after meeting her mother, but she also seemed unaware of how pretty she was without makeup, and yet nearly chomping at the bit to deny herself any form of self-love or happiness that came her way.
Lorna could not have conjured up a more ideal candidate.
Pliable, desperate, yet smart and attractive.
However, intuition was strong with this one.
As a forensic psychologist, Jamie had likely honed and sharpened her intangible capabilities.
Police called in forensic psychologists when they were out of their depth with a criminal mind, which meant she was an expert at deductive logic, reading people, intuiting motives.
Jamie was trained to see the marionette strings, the larger picture, the impulses people tried to hide.
For a moment, Lorna wondered if perhaps Jamie’s abilities were even stronger than her own.
But that was ridiculous. Lorna had never met her equal.
Yet, she did plan to keep Jamie somewhat in the dark; otherwise, she might sniff out the romantic scheme, turn tail, and ruin her own love life forever.
That’s how some souls need to find love; by throwing it away.
When people get to a certain age, they stop believing in soulmates.
They stow away the possibility like a broken toy forgotten in an old crate, fooling themselves that they’ve outgrown such childish notions.
So begins a search for something more modest and more attainable.
This lowering of expectations was what Lorna termed soulmate adjacent.
Loneliness and a steady diet of disappointment could erode anyone’s long list of must-haves and replace it with “that’ll be fine. ”
Fine. The death knell of love.
This was the opposite of what Lorna promised.
Her aging singles were dangerously close to that precipice, dipping their toes in the tepid pool of romantic complacency, their hopes of love fading to make way for settling.
Sure, companionship, understanding, and common interests were important, but that was not what she peddled.
Lorna was selling the dream. That first-glance-across-a-crowded-room, all-consuming kind of love Taylor Swift wrote about, where the chemistry lights you up like a pinball machine, all bells, whistles, attraction, and joy at full volume.
The kind of love where you invent your own language, find solace and exhilaration in each other’s eyes, and finally feel seen and loved not in spite of your flaws and eccentricities, but because of them.
Lorna knew that finding that kind of love required letting go of all the things you think you’re looking for.
By letting yourself be seen by the right person.
It was a thrill like no other.
If Lorna tapped into her deepest talents, the singles at this table would be able to conjure that exact kind of thrill.
Her goal wasn’t to find someone who was simply fine, but to match each tattered, or skittish, or bulletproof heart with another heart who felt the same essential way.
She got so excited at thinking about the revelations her singles would stumble upon that she could feel tingling in her fingertips as she drew them together and stared at her corkboard.
She was missing a few pieces, but she could see the grand scheme unfolding.
Oritte entered with a slim file folder. “Your meeting with Jamie Frisco is in thirty minutes.”
Lorna checked her watch, nodded, and reached for the pink file folder.
Oritte continued, “You had a very specific list on this one, but I think I’ve narrowed it down to this woman.”
Lorna opened the file and inspected a new photo as Oritte listed out the details.
“Shannon Parsons, thirty-nine, successful pharm rep, transplant from Delray Beach, Florida, living with her sister, has had a bit of a hard time fitting in judging by her rapid descent into spray tans, hot yoga classes, and hair extensions. Note her hobbies.”
Lorna felt a glow of anticipation bloom across her face. “Nicely done.”
“Thank you. Tomorrow evening at around six, Shannon will be leaving her hot yoga class on Upper Pier Avenue in Hermosa Beach.”
Lorna stuffed Shannon Parsons’s profile into her Longchamp bag and pulled out her lipstick. She raised one eyebrow toward Oritte and said, “Great work. Are we ready for Jamie?”
“She filled out the paperwork online, and I printed it out for you.” Oritte handed Lorna another slim folder and added, “Jamie should be here shortly. I’ll escort your next target into the conference room as soon as she arrives.”
“If by target you mean an unsuspecting single whose life I am about to change by showing her how to find the true love she deserves, then yes, by all means escort the target in when she gets here.” Lorna gave her a wink.
“Copy that, Chief.” Oritte gave her a wry smile in return.
“One more thing, Oritte.” Lorna handed her a news article. “Could you do a little digging on this man?”
Oritte glanced at the article concerning an exhibit closing at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.
The accompanying photo was of an older gentleman and an attractive younger woman trailing behind, the director and assistant director of the exhibit.
She examined the name under the photo and said, “Basil Grimsby. Is he a candidate for Dinner for Six?”
Lorna continued to apply her lipstick without answering. Oritte got the message that that particular piece of information was a need-to-know basis and she did not have clearance.
“Consider it done.” Oritte accepted her orders with a confident nod and walked out of Lorna’s office.
One down, one on deck. Four to go.