Episode 3: Operation: Blind Date
"It was ever so romantic," Lila sighed, hugging a heather grey throw pillow to her chest as she sat cross-legged on the living room floor. "The way he looked into her eyes when he said 'You had me at hello'... it's just beautiful every time I watch it."
Rhonda sprawled across the couch with a green mud mask coating her face and lifted her head slightly. "That movie is ancient, Lila. Couldn't you at least obsess over something from this century?"
"Classic romance never goes out of style," Lila replied serenely, reaching for another chocolate from the box beside her.
Helga emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. "If I have to watch one more scene of Tom Cruise's teeth, I'm throwing myself out the window." She flopped into the armchair, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. "Two weeks, Rhonda. That's your longest stretch without dating a terrible man since college. Should we alert Guinness World Records?"
A knock at the door was followed immediately by the sound of a key in the lock. Arnold stepped in, toolbox in hand and wearing a slightly apologetic expression.
"Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Those bathroom fixtures finally came in. I promise I'll be quick."
"It's about time," Rhonda declared, careful not to move her mud-masked face too much. "It's been what, two weeks?"
"Supply chain issues," Arnold explained, already heading toward the bathroom. "And I'm not listening to whatever you're talking about; just here to do the job."
"Sure, Football Head," Helga called after him. "Like you're not dying for girly gossip to finally have something interesting to tell Geraldo."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he called back, the bathroom door closing behind him.
"Liar," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Rhonda to catch it—and roll her eyes.
Rhonda glared without cracking her mask. "I'm being selective. Taking your advice, if you must know."
"My advice was to stop dating men solely because they own boats, not to join a convent."
"Ladies, please," Phoebe intervened from her perch on the window seat. "Can we finish the movie without antagonizing each other?"
Lila pressed pause on the remote. "Actually, I've been thinking... it's been ever so long since I've been on a date myself."
The room fell silent as all three women turned to stare at her.
"How long is 'ever so long'?" Helga asked eyebrow raised.
Lila tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, let's see... I had coffee with that nice professor.."
"That was a job interview, Lila," Helga interjected. "For that paralegal certificate program."
"Oh, right. Then I suppose it would be... goodness, has it really been since I went to dinner with my neighbor's cousin?"
"That's almost five months!" Rhonda sat up straight, her eyes wide above her green mask. "Lila, this is a crisis!"
"It's hardly a crisis," Phoebe noted. "Many people go extended periods without dating by choice."
"But unlike you, Lila's our resident romantic," Rhonda insisted. "If she's not dating, it's a travesty. A crime against nature."
Lila shrugged. "I suppose I've been busy with work and my community garden. And the shelter volunteering. And my pottery class..."
"Exactly!" Rhonda pointed accusingly. "You're filling your life with hobbies instead of men. It's unnatural."
"Says the woman who just swore off dating," Helga muttered.
"I've sworn off dating the wrong men," Rhonda corrected primly. "Lila needs to start dating the right ones."
"And what exactly constitutes the 'right' man in your expert opinion?" Helga asked. "Someone with a platinum card and no wedding ring this time?"
Rhonda's eyes narrowed. "Lila needs someone sophisticated. Cultured. A man who appreciates arts and fine dining. Someone who can match her refinement."
"Oh please," Helga rolled her eyes. "What Lila needs is someone genuine. Down-to-earth. A guy who won't try to change her or take advantage of her niceness. Someone straightforward."
"I'm sitting right here," Lila reminded them mildly.
"You'd have her dating some flannel-wearing, beard-having lumberjack," Rhonda scoffed.
"Better than another Patrick Bateman Wall Street wonder who'll leave her for his secretary," Helga shot back.
"That's quite enough," Phoebe interrupted firmly. "Perhaps we should ask Lila what she wants?"
Three pairs of eyes turned to Lila, who blinked in surprise.
"Well... I suppose I'd like someone kind. And honest. Someone who sees the good in people, like I try to do."
"Boring," Rhonda declared. "You need excitement and passion!"
"You need stability and respect," Helga countered, her gaze lingering on a spot just past Lila, where the bathroom door was slightly ajar.
Arnold emerged from the bathroom, toolbox in hand. His smiling eyes briefly landed on Helga, and a spark of something passed between them before he looked at the group at large. "The situation..." He paused with a mink grin. "has been stabilized, ladies." As he exited the apartment, he sent a little wink to Helga with a smirk that suggested he knew what he was doing. Helga's breath hitched slightly, and she quickly looked away, a faint blush warming her cheeks. Phoebe and Lila both giggled at the newly flustered blonde.
"Finally! I need a good shower," announced Rhonda, standing up. "This mask is starting to itch. But this conversation isn't over, Lila. Your love life needs an intervention."
As Rhonda swept toward the bathroom, Helga turned to Lila, her voice slightly sharper than intended. "Don't let Princess Love Doctor pressure you into anything. Some people actually enjoy being single."
"Oh, I don't mind dating," Lila said cheerfully, her eyes twinkling as she noticed Helga's flustered state. "It's ever so nice to meet new people. I just haven't found anyone special lately."
"Maybe because you keep looking for the fairytale," Helga suggested, more gently than before, her eyes darting back towards the bathroom door where Arnold had been. "Real relationships are messier."
"Like your relationship with Arnold?" Lila asked innocently without meeting a beat, a playful smile on her lips.
Helga choked on her popcorn. "I don't have a relationship with Arnold!"
"Of course not," Phoebe murmured, exchanging a knowing look with Lila, a trim smirk as she noticed Helga's reaction.
"I'm going to get more popcorn," Helga declared, stomping toward the kitchen, her cheeks still slightly flushed. "And when I come back, we're watching Die Hard."
The next evening, Rhonda burst into the apartment, designer shopping bags dangling from both arms. "Lila! I've had the most brilliant idea!"
Lila looked up from the legal brief she was proofreading at the dining table. "What is it, Rhonda?"
"I've found you the perfect man!" Rhonda announced triumphantly, dropping her bags on the couch.
"Oh?" Lila set down her pen. "That's so thoughtful, but—"
"His name is Anthony. He works at that little bookshop on Vine Street – you know, the one with the adorable café inside?" Rhonda pulled off her sunglasses. "I went on a date with him last night."
"You went on a date?" Helga emerged from her bedroom, hair twisted in a towel. "That was fast. What happened to 'being selective'?"
"I am being selective," Rhonda insisted. "I'm selecting different kinds of men. Anthony has been asking me out for months whenever I go to that bookshop. He's cute in that intellectual way, always recommending poetry and literary fiction."
"Let me guess," Helga smirked. "He's broke."
"Not broke," Rhonda sniffed. "Just... financially modest. But he's nice. Very nice. Too nice for me, actually. We had absolutely nothing in common."
"Except your mutual love of books?" Lila suggested.
"Please," Rhonda waved dismissively. "I go there for the fashion magazines and coffee, not Dostoyevsky. But!" She pointed dramatically at Lila. "He would be a perfect match for you. He's kind, reads constantly, and volunteers teaching adult literacy classes. He's practically you in male form."
"That's ever so flattering, but I don't know..."
"I've already arranged it," Rhonda declared. "You're meeting him for dinner tomorrow at Chez Paris."
"Chez Paris?" Helga raised an eyebrow. "On a bookstore salary?"
"I may have suggested a more suitable venue," Rhonda admitted. "And I may have implied I'd help with the bill. Consider it my investment in Lila's happiness."
"That's actually... not terrible of you," Helga conceded.
"I have my moments," Rhonda preened. "So, Lila? What do you say? One dinner, my treat. If you hate him, you never have to see him again."
Lila hesitated, then smiled. "Well, I suppose it would be ever so rude to refuse such a thoughtful gesture. Thank you, Rhonda."
"Excellent!" Rhonda clapped her hands. "Now, we need to plan your outfit. Something demure but not matronly, feminine but not desperate..."
"I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself," Lila protested gently.
"Of course you are, doll. But humor me?"
As Rhonda dragged Lila toward her bedroom, Helga shook her head. "This won't end well," she muttered to herself.
"I can't see anything," Helga complained, adjusting her large sunglasses and slouching lower in the booth. "Remind me why we're doing this again?"
"To provide moral support and ensure compatibility," Phoebe replied, peeking over her menu at the table where Lila sat across from a slim young man with dark-rimmed glasses and a nervous smile.
"They call that stalking in most jurisdictions," Helga pointed out.
"It's not stalking, it's supervising," Rhonda insisted, wearing an enormous hat and scarf despite being indoors. "And Helga, what happened to the girl that once helped me sneak into Professor Wynter's office to swap one of my papers?"
"She took an oath."
"Anyway." Rhonda tried to whisper. "We need to make sure Anthony doesn't bore her to tears with his thoughts on... whatever people like him think about."
"Literature?" Phoebe suggested.
"Exactly," Rhonda nodded. "Lila needs someone who listens to her, not someone who lectures."
"Says the woman who spent forty minutes this morning telling us about the 'correct' way to fold sweaters," Helga muttered.
"Shh!" Rhonda hissed. "They're talking. I can't hear what they're saying!"
"Perhaps because we're three tables away, as is appropriate for people who aren't eavesdropping," Phoebe noted dryly.
"This is ridiculous," Helga declared, starting to stand. "We should—"
"Get down!" Rhonda yanked her back into the seat as Lila glanced in their direction. They all ducked behind their menus.
"This is absurd," Helga whispered. "Lila's a grown woman. She doesn't need us spying on her date."
"Look, she's laughing," Phoebe observed. "That's a positive sign."
"But is it real laughter or polite laughter?" Rhonda squinted through her sunglasses. "We need to get closer."
"We are not—Rhonda!" Helga watched in horror as Rhonda slipped out of the booth and moved to an empty table nearer to Lila's.
"Should we join her or pretend we don't know her?" Phoebe asked.
"Both excellent options," Helga sighed. "But if Princess Matchmaker causes a scene, Lila will never forgive us for not stopping her."
They reluctantly moved to Rhonda's new table, keeping their heads down.
"—and that's when I realized Victorian literature speaks so much to our modern condition," Anthony was saying, gesturing animatedly. "The alienation, the social critique beneath the romance..."
"That's ever so interesting," Lila nodded, looking genuinely engaged. "I've always loved Jane Austen for similar reasons."
"Austen is transcendent," Anthony agreed enthusiastically. "Though some argue she lacks Dickens' social consciousness."
Lila smiled at Anthony's words, but in her mind, she wondered if there was a deeper connection or just a friendly one.
"Oh, I don't know," Lila replied. "I think her critique of social norms and gender expectations was quite revolutionary for her time."
Rhonda made a gagging motion. Helga kicked her under the table.
"She's actually holding her own," Phoebe whispered approvingly. "They appear intellectually compatible."
"Boring," Rhonda declared, perhaps too loudly. Several diners turned to look at them.
Lila glanced over, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly returned her attention to Anthony, who remained oblivious to their audience.
"We've been made," Helga muttered. "Let's go before—"
"I see we're not the only ones with this idea," a familiar voice interrupted. They looked up to see Arnold standing by their table, Gerald beside him, both wearing baseball caps pulled low.
"Arnold! Gerald!" Rhonda exclaimed, then lowered her voice. "What are you doing here?"
"We just came to grab a bite," Arnold answered, shifting his weight to one side and then the other.
Helga rolled her eyes. "Wait, so you two goofs came to a fancy restaurant without two skirts accompanying you for just a bite?" The guys both nodded with their eyes giving them away. "Right, and I'm Princess Primpernelle of the Magical Kingdom; now tell me why you're really here?"
"Same as you, apparently," Gerald admitted with a sheepish grin. "Phoebe might have mentioned Lila's big date."
"You're spying too?" Helga's eyebrows shot up. "You've lost the right to ever judge us."
"We prefer to call it 'protective observation; we've never really seen her date, at least not since high school," Arnold replied, barely suppressing a smile. "Lila's our friend too."
"Unbelievable," Helga muttered. "Mr. Moral High Ground stooping to our level."
"Hey, we brought better disguises," Gerald defended, adjusting his cap. "Those sunglasses aren't fooling anyone."
"It's a fashion statement," Rhonda insisted.
"Right," Gerald nodded slowly. "So you won't mind if we join you for this 'girls' night'?"
"Actually—" Rhonda began.
"Please do," Phoebe cut in, sliding over to make room.
Gerald settled beside her with a grin while Arnold took the remaining chair next to Helga.
"So, what's the verdict?" Gerald asked quietly. "Does the poor guy know he's being evaluated by the committee?"
"We are not a committee," Helga hissed. "We're just... concerned friends."
"Stalkers," Arnold corrected mildly, leaning closer to Helga than necessary, giving him a whiff of her light perfume. "The word you're looking for is stalkers."
"Like you've never followed someone around," Helga shot back.
"Not since fourth grade," Arnold replied, that infuriating half-smile on his face.
"Shh!" Rhonda interrupted. "Something's happening!"
They all turned to see the waiter placing a bottle of wine on Lila's table. Anthony seemed to be protesting something, his expression flustered.
"I may have arranged a little surprise," Rhonda admitted. "A very nice bottle of Bordeaux. I called ahead."
"Rhonda!" Phoebe looked scandalized. "You can't interfere with their date!"
"It's not interfering, it's enhancing," Rhonda insisted. "Anthony's wallet would never stretch to decent wine."
"I don't think Lila cares about expensive wine," Arnold pointed out.
"Everyone cares about expensive wine," Rhonda countered. "They just don't all know it yet."
They watched as Lila placed a gentle hand on Anthony's arm, apparently reassuring him. The waiter opened the wine and poured two glasses.
"See? Crisis averted," Rhonda said smugly.
"The only crisis here is our complete lack of boundaries," Helga muttered.
"Oh please," Rhonda scoffed. "Like you're not dying to know if they hit it off."
"I admit to a certain anthropological interest," Phoebe conceded.
"I'm just here for the food," Gerald declared, grabbing a menu.
"You all realize that Lila can see us, right?" Arnold said quietly. "She's been glancing over here every few minutes."
"Impossible," Rhonda disagreed. "My disguise is impenetrable."
As if on cue, Lila raised her glass in their direction with a small, knowing smile before turning back to Anthony.
"Cold Busted," Gerald laughed.
"Well, this is mortifying," Phoebe sighed, removing her glasses.
"Should we leave?" Helga asked.
"And miss the rest of the date?" Rhonda looked horrified at the suggestion. "Absolutely not. We're already exposed. We might as well stay and get dinner."
"You're unbelievable," Helga shook her head but didn't move to leave.
"Fine," Arnold conceded. "But we're going to act like normal people having dinner, not special agents on a mission."
"Speak for yourself, man," Gerald grinned, adjusting an imaginary earpiece. "Agent Johanssen is on the case."
Phoebe giggled, and even Helga couldn't suppress a smile.
Two hours and several shared appetizers later, they watched as Anthony helped Lila with her coat. The pair headed toward the exit, stopping briefly at their table.
"Thank you ever so much for the wine, Rhonda," Lila said sweetly. "Anthony and I had a lovely evening. It was so nice knowing you were all here supporting us."
Anthony looked confused. "I'm sorry. Do you all know each other?"
"These are my roommates," Lila explained. "And our neighbors from upstairs. Everyone, this is Anthony."
"Pleasure," Anthony nodded, clearly bewildered by the size of their group. "Lila mentioned she had roommates, but not that you'd all be... here."
"We're a close-knit bunch," Rhonda said airily.
"Suffocatingly so," Helga added under her breath, and when Arnold's hand accidentally brushed against hers, her pinkish cheeks contradicted her words.
"Well, we should go," Lila said. "Anthony's walking me home."
"We'll be along shortly," Rhonda assured her. "No need to wait up."
After they'd left, the table fell silent.
"That was awkward," Gerald finally said.
"It could have been worse," Arnold offered. "At least Lila wasn't upset."
"Lila doesn't get upset," Helga pointed out. "It's her superpower."
"So," Rhonda leaned forward eagerly. "What do we think? Is he worthy?"
"He seemed intelligent and respectful," Phoebe observed. "And they appeared to have genuine conversational chemistry."
"He's a bit dull," Rhonda frowned. "All that talk about books and social issues."
"Heaven forbid someone cares about the world," Helga rolled her eyes.
"I think what matters is that Lila seemed to enjoy herself," Arnold said diplomatically.
"Agreed," Gerald nodded. "And he was definitely into her. Couldn't take his eyes off her."
"So the mission was a success," Rhonda declared happily.
"The mission was an invasion of privacy," Helga corrected. "But... they did seem to get along."
"I believe we've meddled sufficiently for one evening," Phoebe suggested, checking her watch. "Shall we head home?"
"Fine," Rhonda sighed, signaling for the check. "But I want full details from Lila in the morning."
The group stayed for a little bit longer, trying to give Lila some space in case she brought Anthony back to the apartment. Gerald nudged Phoebe and began mimicking an overly picky patron nearby. Arnold glanced over to see Helga laughing in a way that made her eyes crinkle, the sight made something in his stomach flutter in a way he wasn't expecting. He turned to the rest of the table with a slightly furrowed brow, figuring he just liked seeing her so happy.
As they headed out, the night wind nearly blew Arnold's cap off; he noticed Helga rubbing her arms and, without asking, placed his jacket on her shoulders. She looked like she was going to protest but then offered an appreciative smile, gripping the jacket tighter.
When they arrived back at the apartment, the living room was dark except for a single lamp. Lila sat on the couch, reading.
"Where's Anthony?" Rhonda asked immediately.
"He went home," Lila replied, setting down her book. "It's rather late."
"And?" Rhonda pressed, sitting beside her. "Details, please!"
"It was ever so nice," Lila said simply.
"Nice? That's all we get?" Rhonda looked disappointed. "After all our help?"
"Your help?" Lila raised an eyebrow, a rare hint of mischief in her expression. "You mean your surveillance operation?"
"We were concerned," Helga offered lamely, dropping into an armchair.
"It was Rhonda's idea," Phoebe added quickly.
"Thanks for the loyalty," Rhonda muttered.
"It's alright," Lila assured them. "It was actually quite comforting knowing you were all there. Though I'm not sure Anthony fully understood the situation."
"Will you see him again?" Rhonda asked eagerly.
Lila hesitated. "He was ever so sweet and interesting. But..."
"But what?" they all leaned forward.
"But I don't think there was a spark," Lila admitted. "He'd make a wonderful friend, but I didn't feel... whatever it is you're supposed to feel."
"Butterflies," Rhonda supplied.
"Chemistry," Phoebe added.
"Irrational emotional response," Helga muttered.
"Yes, all of that," Lila nodded. "He's perfectly nice, but—"
"Nice isn't enough," Arnold finished for her, surprising them all. He'd been so quiet they'd almost forgotten he and Gerald were still there.
"Exactly," Lila smiled at him gratefully.
"But he was perfect on paper," Rhonda protested. "Kind, intelligent, shares your interests!"
"That's the problem with 'on paper,'" Gerald observed. "You can check all the boxes and still miss that something special."
"Chemistry is not quantifiable," Phoebe agreed. "It's an ineffable quality of interpersonal connection."
"Well, I think it's a waste," Rhonda declared. "He was the nicest man I've dated in years."
"Then why didn't you date him?" Helga asked pointedly.
"Because we had nothing in common," Rhonda replied. "Plus, he wore corduroy."
"The horror," Gerald deadpanned.
"I appreciate the effort, I truly do," Lila told Rhonda. "But maybe next time, let me find my own dates?"
"Fine," Rhonda sighed dramatically. "But my offer stands if you change your mind. I know lots of men."
"Primarily married ones," Helga couldn't resist adding.
"Says the woman who hasn't had a date since the Obama administration," Rhonda shot back.
"Ladies," Arnold intervened before Helga could retaliate. "It's late. Maybe we should call it a night?"
"Good idea," Gerald agreed, stretching. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow anyway."
As they all said their goodnights, Arnold hung back for a moment, catching Helga alone in the kitchen where she'd gone for a glass of water.
"So," he said casually, leaning against the counter, his jacket still draped over her shoulders. "What was that about not dating since the Obama administration?"
"You're listening to Rhonda?" She snorted humorously then her eyes flicked to him. "Besides, it's none of your business, Football Head," Helga replied, but there was no harshness to it.
"Just curious," he shrugged. "Someone as... passionate as you, I'd think you'd have people lining up."
Helga narrowed her eyes. "Was that a compliment or an insult?"
"Definitely a compliment," he smiled. "You know, if you ever wanted to grab coffee or something..."
"And what is that supposed to be a petty meet-up?" Despite her words, Helga's heart did that stupid flip-flop thing again.
"Two old friends catching up?" Arnold clarified though something in his eyes suggested more. "We hadn't really hung out one-on-one since you moved in, and before that... " Arnold smirked, probably thinking about their high school days. "We didn't exactly see eye to eye." He shifted a bit before adding. "No pressure."
"I'll think about it," Helga said, trying to sound nonchalant while Arnold moved closer to take his jacket off her and slipped it on himself.
"Do that," Arnold pushed off from the counter. "Goodnight, Helga."
"Night, Football Head," she replied, watching him go with a mixture of confusion and something that felt dangerously like hope.
From the hallway, she heard Lila's voice drifting softly: "It's ever oh interesting, isn't it? How sometimes the right person is right in front of you all along."
Helga wasn't sure if Lila was talking about herself or someone else entirely, but for once, she didn't have a sarcastic comeback ready.
Helga stood there a moment longer, staring at the empty hallway.
"Right in front of you," she echoed under her breath, unsure if Lila had meant just herself or someone else—but feeling the weight of the words anyway.
Maybe Little Miss Perfect had a point after all, Helga thought as she began rinsing the dishes in the sink.
From her spot in front of the cabinet of mismatched coffee mugs, she could hear Rhonda and Lila's voices drifting in from the hallway. Rhonda's, naturally, was the louder of the two.
"Thank God it's almost Friday. This week's been a war zone for my skin," she huffed, followed by a beat of Lila's usual gentle murmur. Then Rhonda again:
"If I have to sit through one more Friday night of couch-potato bonding over bad wine and reruns, I'm staging an intervention."
Helga snorted. Tonight might've been unpredictable, but some complaints—like Rhonda's—recycled themselves week after week.