The band is playing a wonderful combination of new and old love songs, from Dean Martin to Clay Aiken.
I’m at the table of second importance. First, of course, being the parents of the bride- and groom-to-be, and the lucky couple themselves.
At my table, Mom has placed Floyd (she knows all about his new girlfriend, Emily, so I’m a little upset that she won’t give up), Jack, Sheri, Brandon, and Brynn’s younger sister, Carol, who speaks with a sweet midwestern accent and has Brandon rethinking the spikes. I can tell because he keeps touching them. I want to tell him he’s just bringing more attention to the fact that his hair sticks straight up in several pointy arrows aimed at the ceiling, but I don’t want to embarrass him. Maybe if we have a minute alone later. . . .
Sheri is stunning in a gown of shimmering navy blue set against a spray-on tan. Not much—just enough to give her skin the glow that is so often missing in the winter. She looks more than stunning, actually. She looks regal.
I feel completely pale in comparison in my champagne-colored gown. And I was feeling so confident before I set eyes on my elegant cousin. Even the men look stunning in their tuxes. And of course, Jack, predictably, outshines every man in the room.
I haven’t actually seen Jack since he handed over the coveted manuscript a few days ago. But he’s just as handsome as ever, and I’m trying not to stare.
Floyd won’t stop talking about Emily, and as happy as I am for them, if I have to hear one more thing about how refreshing it is to date someone who isn’t an absolute clone of every other woman in the country, I’m going to stuff a dinner roll in his mouth.
“So my mother says I should do it, but I’m still waffling,” Floyd is saying. “What do you think?”
What do I think? What do I think about what? I stare into Floyd’s hopeful eyes and realize that I’ve only been listening to about every third word he’s said.
Think. The words I remember. Time off, cost, rest. Vacation? Is he asking my opinion about where he should go? He’s a broker, so he could go anywhere he chooses. France, Italy, Ireland, Greece, Hawaii. Anywhere, really. Even London. And speaking of the British, my gaze lands on Jack. We have some world travelers at the table . . . two, anyway. Jack and Sheri. Floyd’s vacation would be interesting conversation for an entire table, I’d say. Time to draw Jack into my world.
“Well, Floyd.” I take a sip of my water. “What do you think?”
He frowns. “I’m not sure. I’m waffling.”
Oh, that’s right. He did just say that, didn’t he?
“Well, let’s get Sheri and Jack’s opinions, shall we?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get the added input.”
I clear my throat. “Hey, guys,” I say. “Floyd has a real dilemma and would like your opinions. Do you have a minute?”
Sheri and Jack turn. Sheri looks at Floyd and smiles. I haven’t had the guts or the heart to tell her about Kevin. I’m not sure she would believe me if I did. “Of course. What’s the problem, Floyd?”
“Well, it’s a little embarrassing,” he says, his face glowing a bit.
Embarrassing? What is there to be embarrassed about? Working for a brokerage firm in Manhattan is stressful. A nice vacation is well deserved. Unless I’m wrong and vacation isn’t what he was talking about in the first place. But really, what else could it be? I clear my throat and take another sip of water.
“It’s nothing, really,” he says. “I just . . . I’m considering having my ears tucked.”
I practically spit water across the table. We’re not talking about vacation? Lord, have mercy. Brandon looks at him like he’s from Mars. “What’s that?” I sputter.
And all eyes are drawn to Floyd’s ears, which I have to admit do stick out, but he’s not exactly Dumbo.
And now he’s all embarrassed and the air over the table has suddenly become extremely tense. It’s all my fault. I forced Floyd to bring it up out of my desperate need to get Jack’s attention. I’m a horrible, horrible person. But, I mean, if I had known he was talking about his big ears, I never would have suggested a group discussion.
“What does Emily suggest?” Sheri asks. It seems the whole world knows about Emily.
His ears go bright red. “She says they’re perfect.”
“Then I wouldn’t change a thing, Floyd,” Sheri says softly. “Your ears are just the way God made them.”
His face brightens and I’m struck by Sheri’s kindness. “You think?” he says.
“Definitely.”
Floyd seems genuinely grateful. “Do you, uh, want to dance?” he asks Sheri. “I mean, since Emily isn’t here.”
“I’d love to.”
Brandon turns to Carol. “You want to dance?”
She blushes and nods.
My cheeks warm up. What if Jack doesn’t want to dance with me?
Jack’s chair scrapes against the floor. He stands and walks to me, holding out his hand, palm up. “Shall we?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Of course you do,” he says, undaunted. “Fifth Avenue princesses always know how to dance.”
I gasp. “What do you mean?”
“I confess. Brandon told me you’re writing a book with that title.”
A groan escapes.
“That book is not about me.”
“I didn’t say it was,” he says, bending slightly. “Now, are you going to leave me standing here, or are you going to take my hand and dance with me?”
I take his hand, but I can’t let go of the fact that he just called me a Fifth Avenue princess.
“If you don’t think the book is about me, then why did you call me that?”
He leads me to the dance floor and takes me in his arms. “If I apologize and swear on the life of my firstborn that I don’t believe the book is autobiographical, will you drop it and relax?”
“Fine. Consider it dropped. I’m totally relaxed.”
He raises his eyebrows, and I know he doesn’t believe me, but at least he smiles and begins to sway with the music.
“Dancy,” Jack whispers against my hair. “You promised to relax.”
The band is playing “When I Fall in Love,” and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I’m in Jack Quinn’s arms. He smells like aftershave and a cool night wind. My heart does a somersault in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax against him.
“Much better.”
I close my eyes, swept away by the romance of the evening, the song, and the dance.
Jack doesn’t speak, but I feel his palm against the small of my back, leading me around the dance floor. But all good things must come to an end, and I feel Jack moving back. I open my eyes to find Floyd cutting in.
I’m gratified to see reluctance move across Jack’s face as he relinquishes his hold on me. He lifts my hand to his lips and brushes a soft kiss to my fingertips. “Thank you for the dance.”
I nod and swallow hard, but before I can verbally respond, Floyd’s sweaty palm replaces Jack’s against the small of my back and he sweeps me away, leaving Jack with nothing to do but walk back to the table.
It’s odd, reading my favorite author at this stage in the process. I’m still in awe and enjoying the book. But even great authors like Cate Able need to be edited. Clearly.
I think back to my own manuscript. I haven’t written a word since going back to work, and I miss it. It’s only been three days, but I’m getting close to the end of the book and I truly want to finish.
Valerie’s dad is dying, and I haven’t figured out yet whether she’ll end up with John or Ben. Will she be happy, or will she have a tragic end? As much as I want to outline the book from start to finish, the twists of my own imagination keep surprising me.
My phone rings as I’m finishing up the edit of Cate’s tenth chapter. Sheri? I sigh. She’s been trying to get in touch with me for a couple of days. But what am I supposed to say to her?
I can’t. I truly
can’t tell her about Kevin. It would just be too awkward, and I don’t think she’d believe me anyway.
I force myself to take the call. “Hi, Sheri.”
“Do you know I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for three days?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”
“Well, I wanted to tell you that Jack told me to get a proposal from you for Fifth Avenue Princess. Are you interested?”
“Jack wants my book?” What is going on here?
“It looks that way,” she says, and I detect a note of smugness in her tone.
“I thought you were working on nonfiction.”
She laughs. “Well, he knew you wouldn’t give your novel to Fran, and he figured you wouldn’t give it to him either. So I was the next choice.”
“I don’t know, Sheri. It’s not finished.”
“All I need are the proposal chapters and a summary. Surely you can do that.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Well, think fast. Because I desperately need to take something to committee.”
“Again, I thought you were looking for nonfiction.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “You should see the garbage that ends up on my desk. Dating advice, diet books, and how to have great sex. I’m looking for something fresh, and there’s nothing out there. I need you, Dan. I need your book.”
“Sheri, what if it’s no good?” I hate to whine, but after all of my editing experience, I’m terrified to show my own book to a decent editor. Especially Jack.
“It’s good.” She pauses. “If you wrote it, I know it’ll be good. You can’t do anything wrong.”
I can’t help but give a little laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, cousin.”
“Seriously, I’m not above a little flattery, but in this case, I have no doubt that your manuscript is good. Please let me have a look.”
“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
“All right.” She draws a deep breath. “One more thing.”
Inwardly I groan. I know what she wants to discuss.
“Kevin and I broke up.”
“Oh? I’m sorry, Sheri.”
“I’m not. I heard what he tried with you.”
“You did?” Surely Jack didn’t . . .
“Trust me, you can’t be engaged to a man like Kevin without having spies in the office.”
“You didn’t trust him?”
“Let’s just say I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, but I had my suspicions. I’m just sorry you had to put up with his nonsense for me to find out he was a creep. Truly. I know he made passes at the other women in the office. I just figured I could tame him. But you know what they say, when the cat’s away, and all that.”
I hold my breath. Does she know?
I relax with her next words, but still I can’t help but feel sorry for her. “His secretary quit after he asked her to work late and chased her around her desk as soon as they were alone in the office. Can you believe an editor would be that cliché? Anyway, she sent me an e-mail and told me all about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, there’s someone out there for me.” She pretends nonchalance, but I know that inside she must be hurting. On a whim, I do what even I never expected.
“I’ll e-mail you the summary and a couple of chapters by the end of the week.”
“Really?” she practically squeals in my ear.
“Really. But you have to be honest.”
“Don’t worry. I will be. Brutally so.”
I’m not sure whether to be worried or relieved.
18
The day of the funeral dawned with overcast skies and the threat of rain. Valerie’s tears flowed freely. She didn’t bother with makeup. There was no point. Ben stood firmly at her side during the funeral and burial, and Valerie clung to his strength.
Later, after everyone had gone and only Valerie and her mom remained, they sat on the porch swing, watching the rain fall, and shared their hearts. Valerie told her all about John, how he’d orchestrated her firing. How Ben had come along and she had fallen for him in spite of herself.
“He sounds so much like your father,” her mom said. “Steady, reliable. Competent.”
“Yes,” Valerie said. “I’ve always thought he was like Daddy.” She smiled. “I couldn’t do any better, could I?”
“Not if you truly love him and want to build a life with him and his children. Just remember that you can’t turn him into your dad. And it won’t be fair to him or those children if you’re with him for the wrong reasons.”
—An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess
by Dancy Ames
At church on Sunday, I notice Brynn isn’t acting like her usual self. She’s almost sullen, and that worries me. I nudge Kale, who is sitting next to me. “What’s wrong with Brynn?”
A frown creases his brow. “What do you mean?” he whispers back.
“Shh.” Brandon gives us a fierce frown and we straighten up.
I’ve been attending regularly since Brandon came to visit that week. He’s a good influence, and it gives me a chance to see him. Especially with his busy schedule. Not only has he started his junior year, he’s also going to the Juilliard pre-college program until they move to Florida. I had to fight for it. Kale joined the effort, and Dad finally agreed to pay the money, even if Brandon had to leave before the end of the year.
I smile a little to myself as I think back just two months, before I found Granny’s Bible and my new life verse. Learning to trust God really hasn’t been all that hard.
What I’m nervous about now are the proposal chapters and summary I e-mailed to Sheri on Friday, as I promised. So far I haven’t heard a word back, and I can only conclude that she hated every word of it.
I meet Brynn in the ladies’ room after service. Staring at her in the mirror, I can’t help but ask, “Brynn, what’s going on?”
She bursts into tears and falls into my arms. “I can’t marry him.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. “What do you mean, you can’t marry him? Did he do something?”
She shakes her head against my shoulder. “I can’t live in New York.”
Can’t live in New York? I push her slightly away from me—just enough so I can look in her watery eyes. “Brynn, you need to calm down and talk to me. I’m guessing Kale has no idea you’re having second thoughts?”
She shakes her head and grabs a tissue from the counter. “I haven’t had the heart to tell him.”
“Everyone gets jitters before their wedding. Tabby’s so grumpy these days, we’re about to toss her out of the apartment.”
That brings a smile. “It’s not that I’m having second thoughts about Kale. I love him more than ever.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“That stupid condo.”
Surely she doesn’t mean to call my childhood home stupid. Does she? Of all the ungrateful brats.
“See? You don’t understand. And I’m so afraid Kale won’t, either.”
“Are you saying you don’t want the apartment my parents gave you?”
Fresh tears coursed down her pixie cheeks. “I know it sounds ungrateful.”
To say the least. “Would you prefer a house?”
“Yes, but not in the city. I have to go home.”
“To Oklahoma?” The shock I feel comes through loud and clear, but I can’t help it. I adore New York. How could anyone prefer Oklahoma to New York?
“Seeing my parents and little sister last week just made me ache for the sight of my daddy’s ranch.”
“Can’t you go for visits?”
“It’s not the same. I want to raise my children the way I was raised.”
“Tell me something, Brynn.” I pause a second to gather my thoughts. “Why did you come to the city in the first place?”
A self-deprecating smile tips the corners of her quivering mouth. “I had a scholarship to NYU and, let’s face it, what eighteen-year-
old doesn’t want to fly the coop and head to the big city when she graduates? I was ready to move home when I met Kale. And that’s all it took for me. Only, I’ve grown up over the last eight years, and now I know I could never live here forever.”
“All I can say is, talk to Kale. Give him a chance to try to change your mind.”
She nods and gives me a hug. “Thanks, Dancy. I would have liked to have you for a sister.”
Tenderness for this girl sweeps through me. She loves my brother. I have no doubt they’ll work it out. One way or another.
The problem with freelance editing and writing is that there’s no reason to get dressed unless you’re going to the coffee shop. And, quite frankly, every time I try to work there, Nick wants to chat, or Emily shows up and shares her latest pictures or stories about Floyd, who is apparently quite the kisser. It’s all I can do not to excuse myself and vomit when that happens.
I’ve been editing all night. I just can’t bear to put down Cate Able’s manuscript. So by the time Laini awakes, I haven’t slept a wink. I’m sitting on the comfortable recliner, manuscript in hand, bug-eyed and desperately needing to get up and walk around.
“Have you been up all night?”
I yawn broadly and nod. “I couldn’t stop. But I’m going to get some sleep after you and Tabby leave for the day.”
“You’re getting your days and nights mixed up. You’re going to regret it.” Laini tsk-tsks. “Maybe you ought to stay awake today so you can sleep tonight.”
“I might.”
“I’m going to make breakfast. How does a nice breakfast casserole and biscuits sound?”
Tabby stumbles into the living room. “We’re getting fat, Laini. You’re feeding us too well.”
A grin tips Laini’s lips. “Welcome to my world.”
Laini is not at all fat. She’s a little curvy, yes, but I don’t care what my mom says. “A size 10 is not fat, Laini Sullivan, and don’t you dare ever say that about yourself again.”
She laughs and heads for the kitchen. “Size 12. I’ve gained, too. And don’t worry, I’m trying some lighter dishes. Egg Beaters and tofu.”
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