Love, Decoded

I admit I m still new to this whole love thing. The closest I ve come was watching my brother James fall for his girlfriend, Liza, last summer. Auntie Rose said she knew it was a good match because he went through her Four Stages of Love -confusion, denial, fear, and concession. Considering James hasn t stopped smiling since they met, I suggested happiness be added as thefifth, but Auntie Rose dismissed it, saying I still have a lot tolearn. Nonetheless, I do come from a distinguished line of skilled mathematicians, and there s no doubt I ve inherited the matchmaking talent. Several of my friends would still be dating Netflix if it wasn t for me.

Last year, Auntie Rose decided it was time I start training to take my place as the next generation of matchmakers in the family. Infact, she loves recounting that at just six years old, I pointed to a groomsman and a bridesmaid at a wedding and predicted they would get married. How much of this is true is up for debate, but she s certain it was a sign of things to come. According to her, all I need is a little time to nurture my matchmaking talent. That s why I ve been spending my Saturdays at Rose and Jade, the Asian import and souvenir shop Auntie Rose owns in Chinatown.

This weekend, however, I m at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I need to choose a painting to critique for my art history project. It counts for 40 percent of the final grade, and I need an A if I want to stay in the top 1 percent of our class. I walk into the first room of the old European masters wing. Cream--colored walls are lined with oil paintings of all sizes, framed in gold and lit by soft light overhead.

Despite the beauty around me, I m immediately drawn to the well--dressed pair of visitors standing in front of a painting of a foxhunt. The two must have come together. They re standing shoulder to shoulder, though there s always distance betweentheir bodies. The woman stares up at the piece of art, pointing at one of the figures on horseback as she says something to the man. He leans toward her, closing the gap ever so slightly. The woman continues talking, completely oblivious to the fact that the only thing he s admiring is her.

I wonder if I should say something . . .

Nope. Bad idea. Only Auntie Rose can pull off walking up to random strangers to offer her services so easily. I would say she s charismatic, but I sus