The Cinderella List. Judy Baer
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Brady, hearing the voices in the kitchen, left his perch on the deck and came inside. His pale, angelic features made Marlo want to scoop him into her arms and ward off the outside world that was so alarming to him. Instead she put out her hand for a high five. “Put ’er there, buddy. Wassup?”
Brady giggled. “You talk funny.”
“Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”
“Too hard.”
“You mean they play too hard?”
He nodded fervently, his blond hair bouncing.
Marlo loved this little boy beyond words. She’d rocked him for hours on end when he was a newborn, allowing his exhausted parents to sleep. Marlo had patiently helped Brady learn to walk, while all Jenny could talk about was what might happen if he fell and hurt himself. Ultimately, she’d been the one to pry Brady from his mother’s protective clutches long enough to pet the neighbor’s dog, go down a slide and splash in the baby pool at the park. His life needed no detours.
“Come here and give your auntie Marlo a kiss, Brady boy. I’ve got to get to work.” She tapped her cheek with her finger and, giggling, Brady complied.
“I love you, little buddy,” Marlo whispered as Brady’s soft breath skimmed her cheek. Brady threw his arms around her and hugged her tight.
“You’re late,” Lucy said when Marlo finally arrived at the Divas’ kitchen. She was putting together leafy spinach salads with sliced hard-boiled eggs.
“I stopped at Jenny’s for a cup of coffee.”
“How is Brady doing? Last time I talked to your sister she said that she was afraid he might have strep throat.”
“A false alarm, fortunately, but with him, she never knows.” A wave of tenderness swept over Marlo. “The child never complains about anything.”
Sometimes she wondered if she were being fair to Jenny by accusing her of being too cautious. Her sister simply couldn’t resist being overprotective of her darling boy.
“Someone called for you this morning,” Lucy said with studied nonchalance.
“Did you take a message?”
“I did not. I told him that if he wanted to talk to you he should show up here.”
“It’s not that health food distributor again, I hope. There’s nothing like a reformed snack-food junkie to be a high-pressure salesman.”
“No, not him. Better.” Lucy’s eyes sparkled with delight, giving rise to a suspicious foreboding in Marlo. Lucy was up to something.
“I don’t have time to play around. Who called?” Before Lucy could answer, Marlo’s eyes widened as Jake sauntered through their front door. Her heart did a traitorous flip. She willed herself to be calm.
“You can thank me later. Right now, I think I’ll just slip into the storeroom and rearrange the supplies.” With a wink, Lucy disappeared, leaving Marlo alone with the gorgeous Mr. Hammond. Marlo didn’t know whether to pop Lucy in the nose or hug her.
“I brought your check.” He tucked his hand into an inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a long white envelope.
“Thank you. I’m sorry you had to make a trip out of your way. You could have mailed it.” She was, however, glad he hadn’t. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered—and as sophisticated and charming, too. His smile was easy and his eyes intelligent-looking. She gave herself a little mental slap. What was she doing fantasizing about a client? She knew perfectly well what she was doing. She was comparing him to the List, and so far Hammond was a very good match. A very good match, indeed.
Chapter Four
“Are you sure you want to do this? Two devastating humiliations in one week might be too much for you.” Lucy looked at Marlo with an expression that was half genuine concern and half repressed amusement. “We can postpone the Bridesmaids’ Luncheon until you’ve recovered from your faux pas at the Hammonds’ the other night.”
Marlo turned an attractive shade of pink. “I must be thick as a brick to have blurted out what I did.” Despite Jake’s graciousness and avoidance of her error, thinking about it made her cringe. Studs…horses…what else?
“But he laughed, Marlo. He thought it was funny.”
Sense of humor. Check. “Then he’s a better man than I am.”
“That goes without saying.” Lucy turned around and the enormous sunflower-yellow bow on her backside almost brushed an entire row of swan-shaped cream puffs off the counter.
The annual Bridesmaids’ Luncheon that Lucy and Marlo were hosting for their friends had started after Marlo had been asked to be a bridesmaid for the fourteenth time. It had begun half in jest and half because her friends had chosen the dresses with the deluded hope that they might be worn again. All had overlooked the fact that no dress ever worn by someone playing second fiddle to a woman in white lent itself to a second wearing.
Marlo had taken lemons and made lemonade by hosting this luncheon. She and Lucy required that everyone come in an old bridesmaid dress, and wear their hair in whatever fashion that particular bride had requested—an unflattering chignon or French twist, usually.
They served things like chicken Kiev on a bed of watery, undercooked wild and white rice, or minuscule medallions of beef on reconstituted mashed potatoes, duplicating typical wedding food as best they could. It wasn’t truly authentic, however, since they refused to leave the meals on the counter until they’d cooled off before serving them.
Every year, when the guests began their yearly conversation about disbanding the Bridesmaids’ Luncheon, Marlo would bring out the pièce de résistance, the item that brought them back year after year in their flouncy fashion disasters—the wedding cake. Few of her friends had tasted their own wedding cakes, other than for the obligatory shove-a-piece-into-each-other’s-mouths photo. This year the cake was carrot cake, layered with melt-in-your-mouth vanilla cheesecake, cream cheese frosting, walnuts and slivers of grated carrots.
Lucy eyed Marlo critically. “Speaking of dresses, you haven’t changed yet. Let me handle the kitchen. It’s not that hard to scorch one pan of food and undercook another. Do you think the carrots have been boiling long enough? Is there any color left in them?”
Lucy edged Marlo toward the bedroom, where an array of fashion disasters awaited. “You should wear the pink tulle you wore to your sister’s wedding,” Lucy advised. “It enhances your skin.”
“It makes me look like a gob of cotton candy.”
“There are worse things. I have a dress that makes me look like an Eskimo Pie.”
Marlo dropped onto the edge of the bed. “At least we’ve been able to go through most of these wedding traumas together. You’re a good friend, Lucy. I don’t tell you how much I appreciate you nearly often enough.”
“I’m guilty of that, as well. You are the most loyal, supportive, enthusiastic person I’ve ever known. I hope you find that Prince Charming you are looking for, Marlo. You deserve it.” Then Lucy glanced at the clock. “You’d better get ready. The doorbell is going to ring in five minutes.
“By the way, did you find a present to swap?”
Marlo regretted ever starting the regifting portion of the party. She was running out of things in her house as useless as her bridesmaid dresses.
“I have a set of knives that probably can’t cut through air. It’s the best I can do since I don’t have any wedding gifts I want to get rid of.” Marlo leaned heavily against the doorjamb. “It’s getting more and more difficult to ignore the fact that I’m one of the last single women in the group.”
“Whatdayamean? I’m single,” Lucy protested.
“You