Read The Matchmakers of Minnow Bay for Free Online Page B

and we see Dani Ricthers.
    â€œAre you one hundred percent sure this is your guy?” she asks archly. Dani Ricthers is a gorgeous man in black eyeliner and frosted blond hair. If they lived in Tulsa instead of Berkeley, Dani would be Danny, but a man this fabulous has no place in Tulsa. There’s a picture of him posing with his fiancé in his cover shot—probably an engagement photo. They are hand in hand, Ben Hutchinson’s head resting on his future husband’s shoulder, absolute adoration in both pairs of eyes. Dani is a blond god in very tight jeggings. Ben is six inches shorter and fat, and also, distinctly swarthy.
    â€œMaybe not him,” I concede. “But then where the hell is my Ben Hutchinson?”
    â€œMaybe he doesn’t use Facebook. What happened when you googled him?”
    Googled him? Huh. Why didn’t I google him? I stifle a laugh at myself, knowing Renee will not find my Internet quirkiness amusing.
    â€œYou didn’t google him.”
    â€œNot even on our wedding night,” I try.
    Renee just raises an eyebrow, sighs, and shakes her head. “You didn’t google him.”
    â€œGoogle’s not so great. Back when we got married, they didn’t even have Google.”
    â€œYes they did.”
    â€œWhatever,” I shrug. “Let’s google him! Great idea! Scootch over.”
    Renee does not scootch anywhere. She elbows me off the keyboard and clicks over to the landing page where Google’s logo is presently a celebration of Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows.
    .0046 seconds later we have found my husband. And he has a Wiki.
    Ben Hutchinson, 37, is the Silicon Valley millionnaire who graduated from MIT and then moved west to start his own app development company, Freep Inc., specializing in so-called freemium games such as Rural Route, GemBash, and Panda Roll. Called “The Genius Who Wasted Our Time” by The New York Times, Hutchinson and his games have been met with a combination of devotion and loathing from players. After selling Freep Inc. five years ago, he retired to spend more time with his family.
    â€œRetired?” says Renee. “It says here he’s thirty-seven. Who the fuck retires at thirty-seven, I want to know?”
    â€œMy husband, apparently. Holy shit, Ren. I knew at the time he was a programmer from California. He didn’t say anything about having a million dollars. But then, it didn’t really come up either.”
    â€œAre you sure this is him? A guy like this would notice if he had a wife on the books, don’t you think?”
    â€œI’m not sure. Can we find any photos?”
    There are no photos on Google Images, just stills from the games he created.
    â€œWhere does he live now?”
    Both of us read the Wikipedia entry again. It doesn’t say. We click around Google a bunch. Nothing else. No website, no social media, no nothing.
    â€œGod, he’s mysterious.”
    â€œProbably explains why he’s not on Facebook, though. Those games are the worst. Can you even think of the hate mail he must get?”
    â€œPlaying them is totally optional,” I say, though I have never downloaded any such game out of fear. I generally think of my phone as the enemy. Playing games with the enemy would just be silly.
    â€œSort of. I mean, once you get hooked on GemBash, it’s like, thirty hours of your life down the toilet while you wait to get more free Sparkle Points.”
    â€œI guess you could pay for them,” I suggest unhelpfully.
    â€œI’ve thought about it, believe me. And plenty of people do, apparently, if he has all this moola.”
    â€œHad,” I say. “Easy come, easy go. We spent a lot of cash that night in Vegas, and if that’s his style then he’s probably broke by now, same as me. Anyway, money didn’t seem to mean much to him.”
    â€œMoney means a lot to anyone with a lot of it,” she says. “So if you’re