A Slice Of Heaven. Sherryl Woods
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two.”
Maddie’s eyes immediately lit up. She’d always loved a competition. And she loved winning almost as much as Helen did. “Do we each get to pick out our own prize?”
Helen nodded. “Seems only fair, don’t you think?”
“Any price limit?” Dana Sue asked. “You’re the only one of us raking in big bucks.”
Helen grinned. “Which should be excellent motivation for each of you to want to beat me. However, I happen to know Sullivan’s is way ahead of your financial projections, and if this place continues at its current pace, your cries of ‘poor me’ won’t hold water. The Corner Spa is going to make us all rich. We deserve to splurge, and none of us is going to go bankrupt if we do. The profits from this place will see to that.” She turned to Maddie. “So, what’s your dream prize?”
“The sky’s really the limit?” she asked, looking thoughtful.
“Why not?” Helen said with a shrug. “The whole idea is to motivate ourselves to work at this. The promise of a new dress or a pair of shoes won’t cut it.”
“Then I think a trip to Hawaii for my first anniversary would be wonderful,” Maddie declared. “We probably couldn’t take it till spring break, but I’d be willing to wait for that.”
Helen made a note on her ever-present legal pad. “So, a first-class trip for two, or three counting the baby, since I can’t see your mother looking after an infant. She’s only recently adjusted to babysitting your other three and two of them are in their teens.”
“Yes, it would definitely be for three,” Maddie confirmed. “Cal would never agree to leave Jessica Lynn behind. He can barely make himself go out the door to work.”
Helen turned to Dana Sue. “How about you? Any dream vacations you’ve been denying yourself? A new car? A fancy new kitchen at home?”
“I spend all day in a fancy new kitchen at the restaurant,” Dana Sue said. “That’s enough stainless steel for me. And I think travel’s highly overrated.”
“Only because you got lost on our senior trip to Washington, D.C.,” Maddie teased. “No one’s ever let you live that down, and you haven’t left South Carolina since.”
“Okay, no kitchen, no travel,” Helen said. “What, then? Dream big.”
There was only one thing Dana Sue really wanted for herself. She wanted a man in her life, the right man, one who would respect her and treat her as if she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And, in the deepest, darkest corner of her heart, she wanted that man to be Ronnie Sullivan. Unfortunately, as much as Helen and Maddie loved her, they couldn’t give her that. And as furious as they were with him, it wasn’t a fantasy they’d encourage, anyway.
“I know what she wants,” Maddie said quietly.
“What?” Helen asked.
Maddie’s eyes locked with Dana Sue’s. “She wants Ronnie back.”
“I most certainly do not,” she sputtered indignantly, out of habit or maybe self-defense or embarrassment. How shameful was it to still want a man she’d made such a huge production out of throwing out? “How could you even say such a thing, Maddie? You know what that man did to me. You were there to pick up the pieces. Ronnie Sullivan is the last thing I want. If I never see his sorry face again, it will be too soon.”
Her two best friends regarded her with knowing expressions.
“Emphatic,” Helen said.
“Too emphatic?” Maddie asked.
They both grinned, thoroughly pleased with themselves.
Dana Sue scowled. “Well, all I have to say is that if Ronnie Sullivan is your idea of a spectacular prize, then one of you take him. I don’t want him. And the prospect of having him back certainly wouldn’t motivate me to do anything except order a large pizza every single night for the rest of my life.”
“Maybe she means it, after all,” Maddie said, though she sounded doubtful.
“Okay, then, a spiffy little convertible,” Helen suggested. “Red, maybe?”
Dana Sue grinned, relieved to have the topic of Ronnie behind her. “Now you’re talking my language. And it better have a top-of-the-line stereo system, plus that navigational gizmo.”
“That’s definitely important,” Maddie agreed, “since you have absolutely no sense of direction—thus the problems you had on the senior trip.”
“Stop reminding me of that,” Dana Sue retorted good-naturedly. “I get where I’m going.”
“Eventually,” Helen commented.
“Okay, smarty-pants, what about you?” Dana Sue asked her. “What’s your big prize?”
“A shopping spree,” Helen said without any hesitation.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Maddie asked wryly.
Helen scowled at her. “In Paris,” she added.
“All right!” Maddie said enthusiastically. “And we all get to go.”
Dana Sue laughed. “I’m liking this more and more. Now I almost don’t care if Helen wins.”
“No fair,” Helen said. “You have to promise to really try to win your own prize.”
“When does this contest start?” Maddie asked.
“As soon as we set our goals,” Helen said. “And they need to be meaningful goals, ambitious but attainable, okay? Shall we meet same time tomorrow to share them and decide how long we have to attain them?”
“I’m in,” Maddie said.
Dana Sue thought of the nifty little red sports car she’d seen the last time she and Annie had gone to Charleston. It had reminded her of a car Ronnie had had a long time ago, before they’d gotten married, long before things between them had gone so terribly wrong.
“Me, too,” she said at once.
Maybe she’d never be thin and willowy again, but perhaps she could recapture that carefree, confident feeling she’d had at eighteen, when everything was right with her world. And maybe if she felt better about herself, she could find a way to teach Annie how to do the same thing.
Any thought of goal-setting flew out the window that night when a grease fire started in the kitchen in the middle of the dinner rush.
As soon as Karen shrieked, “Fire!” Erik grabbed an extinguisher and started spraying. Meanwhile, Karen raced for a phone and dialed 911, even though the small blaze was already mostly contained.
Assured that Erik had things under control in the kitchen, Dana Sue headed into the dining room to soothe the rattled patrons, then went outside to the patio to explain to customers there and to await the arrival of the firemen, whom she hoped to prevent from dragging their hoses through the restaurant. Thanks to Erik’s quick reaction, there was no need for all those men and their equipment to plow through the place. In fact, by the time the volunteer firefighters arrived on the scene, there was little evidence of the blaze beyond frayed nerves, the lingering scent of smoke and the mess in the immediate vicinity of the greasy pan that had caught on fire.
Though she wouldn’t really be able to tell until morning, it appeared there’d been no smoke damage at all to the dining room, with its pale-peach walls and dark-green trim. A trip to the laundry would take care of any lingering scent in the tablecloths and napkins.
“It was my fault. I am so sorry,” Karen said for at least the tenth time after the fire chief had signed off and let them get back to business.
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