Baby's First Christmas. Marie Ferrarella
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in to the right buzz words, the right attributes to showcase a product and capture the public’s attention.
She supposed that it might seem odd to some that with a knack like that, she couldn’t manage to transfer it directly to people. But she couldn’t.
She’d never had time to relate to people and their natural foibles. Whatever friendships she had were all work related.
Marlene curled one stubborn wisp until it fell like the others along her neck. Maybe if she had succeeded in getting her father’s approval just once, she wouldn’t have been so intensely involved in work.
Marlene smiled to herself. It was a sad, knowing smile. If she had succeeded once, she probably would have tried even harder, hoping lightning would strike twice.
In the privacy of her own room, in the shadows of her own mind, there was no denying the hunger she had always had to win his approval. To win his love. She had believed—hoped really—that there was more to him than he outwardly showed. That was why she had tried so hard to relate to him on his own territory.
Marlene glanced one last time at her image in the full-length mirror. The flared black velvet evening jacket gracefully camouflaged the fact that she was bordering on something that Greenpeace was taking under its protective wing. Beneath the jacket she wore a wide, floor-length black velvet skirt and a crimson camisole that flowed over it. It was flattering and made her feel a little less like a Sherman tank.
But not by much.
Sally looked up as Marlene descended the stairs. “You look like a knockout,” she told her matter-of-factly, and Marlene knew she meant the compliment.
Sally never wasted time with words she didn’t mean. She was more like a drill sergeant than a housekeeper, but she had her soft edges. Marlene loved her because she felt that Sally always told her the truth, whether it was good or bad.
“You’re wasting it on those bozos tonight.”
Leave it to Sally to take everyone down to a common denominator. “I don’t think the head of Acme Oil sees himself as a bozo.”
Sally grinned as she handed Marlene her purse. “That makes the title all the more fitting. I sure hope you’re not going to be doing this once the baby’s here.”
Once the baby was here, everything would change. “No, I promise you, the pace will lessen.” She smiled. “You sound like Nicole.”
“The girl makes sense. Well, if you’re determined to go, go.” Sally shooed Marlene to the door. “Have a good time.”
Marlene leaned over to brush her lips over the old woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Just for you, Sally.”
She grinned as she heard the woman muttering under her breath as she closed the door behind her.
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