The "runner" is Nicole Sullivan, whose name here is Rachel, a 32-year-old CPA who's never been married. Kate manages to slide into the elevator just before it closes, so I guess the elevator has been sitting there waiting this whole time. Kate asks Rachel what floor she wants, and Rachel just wants any floor with an exit, a stairwell, or a window. "Something wrong?" asks Kate, with what must be some kind of intuition only matchmakers have, so Rachel goes off on how there's actually -- horror of horrors -- a matchmaker working at this law firm. "Get out!" says Kate. Rachel can't believe she almost went through with using the gift certificate her friend gave her for a birthday present. Then the elevator doors open and Claire's standing right there, which must be quite upsetting. Rachel apparently didn't even notice that the elevator wasn't MOVING. "Hi. Kate Fox. The matchmaker!" says Kate.
After the opening credits, Kate says that if Rachel's going to do this, she has to be open-minded. "It's my destiny to be alone in this world," says Rachel, who really took Kate's advice about open-mindedness to heart. Rachel says that when she was but a kid, some evil fortune-teller told her she would never ever fall in love. Oh, well then. Kate says Rachel didn't really believe that, did she? Well, here we are. Rachel's never been in love. Kate does her best to find Rachel's inner romantic, but Rachel's too busy with the quips, as in "Sleepless in Seattle? Put me to sleep. Bridges of Madison County? I wanted to know more about the bridges." Well, I'm with you on the former, and I never saw the latter, but Kate makes her "aw!" face when Rachel says she's never understood a single love song. Which must be tough, because some people want to fill the world with silly love songs. "And the only thing I take to bed every night is a pint of Tubby Hubby, which really should be called Tubby Single Girl Sitting Home Alone All Her Life." Good luck sneaking that one past marketing. "Fortune-teller or no fortune-teller, we're going to break this spell. It may take some time, but we'll do it. I promise." I'm wondering just where she gets the courage to promise something of this sort, but never mind. She should at least warn Rachel that the match will not work at first and things will blow up in her face, but then everything will be resolved within the hour!
Kate's in a psychiatrist's office, and the shot frames her with a giant print of that famous still of Harold Lloyd hanging from a clock face, which is cool and everything, but not necessarily the best choice for a psychiatrist to decorate his office with, and maybe there are also pictures of domineering mothers and abusive fathers on his other walls, and Kate is babbling on about how her work has become her life, and it's tough when love is your work and you love it but it's not working. That kind of babbling. The psychiatrist says, "Go on." Kate explains that when she sets clients up on a date, she thinks about them before she goes to sleep, and she immediately wants to know the next day how the date went. "Buuuuttt…" leads the psychiatrist. Kate pretends that there isn't a but, and it's only after much prodding from the psychiatrist that she reveals that Amy and Michael were at first a real challenge, but now that they're more or less on their own she doesn't worry about them so much, and I'm wondering what the "challenge" part of it was that Kate's talking about; was it getting Michael interested in Amy, the smart, personable, successful, beautiful woman? Or was it getting Amy interesting in Michael, the smart, personable, successful, good-looking man? Come to think of it, maybe the challenge was in getting Amy to ignore Michael's ridiculous goatee.
Dr. Feelgood is scribbling on a pad, saying he has something that might help. "I need drugs already?" asks Kate. My words exactly watching this show every week, but it's always a statement, never a question. Aw, I kid. I kid because I love! And my love has become my work, and I'm working to love the work that I love…or whatever. No, the doctor's prescribing a book -- a book on establishing boundaries, which I'm sure won't be at all annoying. Well, as long as Dr. Phil's not on the cover, it won't be too bad. Kate jokes about how astute the psychiatrist is for picking up on her need for better boundaries. He smiles and asks to hear about Kate Fox when she isn't making matches. Kate explains that she's a lawyer who works for her dad (which is a "whole other session." Hee!), but then says that she's honestly always making matches, even if they're mental matches. "What's a mental match?" asks the doctor. God! It's a match she makes IN HER HEAD, stupid! Kate answers much more nicely, though; she uses the doctor as an example, explaining that she starts sizing people up -- in the doctor's case, he's warm, handsome, into silent movies, "as evidenced by the décor," many stills of silent movies, not just the Harold Lloyd one -- and then goes through her "mental Rolodex" until she comes up with a match. In this case, it's Elizabeth, a "Renaissance woman" who owns the silent-movie house on Fairfax and also doubles as the projectionist. "That's a mental match," burbles Kate, pleased with herself, and although it's a little too lucky that Kate knows someone who owns a silent movie theatre, she's so happy that it's almost impossible not to like Kate Fox, I have to admit. The doctor keeps scribbling. Kate wants to know what he's writing, but he just smiles at her. "So tell me, John. Are you currently seeing anyone?" He doesn't answer, just reminds Kate that they're here to talk about her. Kate looks dejected.