Kamila snorted. “Even worse than the spa. He’s like this sixty-eight-year-old who owns a chain of medical walk-in clinics. I agreed to meet him so Dad wouldn’t take the new client, but that dude’s not going to hire me. I’m learning that I lack a certain something many of Dad’s older clients prefer in an accountant.”

“A penis, I assume.”

“Yep. Or at least glasses and sensible slacks.”

Asha laughed. “Glasses might look cute on you, though.”

“Of course they’d look cute on me.” Kamila snapped some more pictures as Lizzy sniffed Darcy’s nose.

“If it’s any consolation, Nicole is technically one of your dad’s older clients, and she adores you. She’d switch to you in a second if he retired.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening, anyway. Dad retiring, I mean. Honestly, if he’d just agree to go part-time, I’d worry less.” She put her phone down and grinned at Asha. “And of course Nicole loves me. I introduced her to the love of her life.”

“And you’ll never let any of us forget it.”

“Nope. I’m a matchmaking artiste. I’m very proud of my work.”

Kamila had always enjoyed playing matchmaker for her friends, but she was particularly proud of Asha and Nicole. They were different races, religions, and tax brackets and had a ten-year age difference, and yet the moment that Asha told Kamila she was looking for something long-term, Kamila knew Dad’s client Nicole was for her. A quiet, Black, plant-loving ob-gyn and a self-proclaimed social-justice-focused Indian dog lover weren’t an obvious match, but as expected, it was practically love at first sight. It was their complementary dry and sometimes absurdist senses of humor. Plus, their love of cheesy movies and romance novels.

Kamila snapped another picture of Lizzy. Darcy was still digging in the leaves, but Kamila at least managed to capture Darcy’s rear end in the shot.

Asha’s text tone rang then. She glanced at her phone. “It’s Maricel. She’s bringing some shelter dogs here for a walk in a bit.”

“Oh, good.” Kamila grinned. “I found some possible spaces for her puppy academy.” Maricel was one of Asha’s employees at the shelter, and Kamila was helping her launch a dog-training business. “I was totally going to call her earlier, but it slipped my mind after the calamity at breakfast.”

“What calamity at breakfast? Your dad didn’t like the sweet potatoes?”

“He’d have liked them fine if he’d actually eaten any.” She managed to get a few more pictures, some miraculously with both dogs’ faces in the frame. “The toaster went up in flames before I could serve anything.”

“Holy shit, Kamila! Fire? How did that happen?”