by Carol Grace
"Not the type? Of course you are," Hannah said.
"Wait." Clara stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. She looked younger than her invalid sister, but with the same angular features and straight, no-nonsense gray hair. "Hannah, drop the chiffon, you're being your usual overbearing bossy self. Why not ask Ellie what type she is and what kind of dress she'd like."
Ellie had to smile at the good-natured banter between the sisters. That's the way it should be, she thought. But I got stuck with April and May.
Ellie didn't know what to say about the dress. She knew what she would like, but how could she ask a total stranger to make her a black slinky dress that clung to her body?
"Hannah tells me you're Cinderella," Clara said, "so let's just say for the sake of argument, that we really are your fairy godmothers, and you can have whatever dress you want. Here." Clara handed her a fashion magazine, and indicated Ellie should sit next to her sister on the couch.
It didn't take long for her to find the dress she wanted. It was long, with a slit up the back to the knee, with thin spaghetti straps. It was sleek, it was chic and it was simple. Ellie had never had a dress like that in her life. It was not something Cinderella would wear to a children's party. It was strictly an adult dress for an adult affair. The kind of affair Ellie read about but never went to.
Clara nodded when she saw the one Ellie was looking at. "Perfect," she said, "and I know just where to get the fabric." She turned to Hannah. "In your closet."
"What do you mean?" Hannah said, bracing her elbows so she could sit up straight.
"It's the dress you wore to Uncle Fred's funeral. I'm sure it's still there. You never get rid of anything."
"But I can't wear your dress," Ellie protested to Hannah, thinking black silk, high neckline and long sleeves.
"I was going to take it to the thrift store, really I was, but I never got around to it. I certainly don't plan to wear it again."
Clara chuckled. "Not without some major adjustments."
"See, I told you I shouldn't give it away." Hannah was beaming. "I knew she'd come through," she said to Ellie. "She's a magician. You'll see. She once made a prom dress for me in an afternoon. That was about a hundred years ago, but she hasn't lost her touch. Go get it."
Ellie's heart sank when she saw the dress. It was just as she'd feared—matronly with a high neck, long sleeves and a full skirt. Nothing like the one in the magazine. But it did have yards and yards of black material—a wonderful silky material.
Clara, ripped and tore and cut and pieced the fabric, then pinned and finally stitched. Ellie stripped down to her sports bra and cotton bikinis to try on each and every permutation while the two sisters argued and bickered about what should be done.
"Tighter!"
"Looser!"
"Longer."
"Shorter."
In between fittings Hannah told stories about Jack. Ellie listened attentively. It was clear the woman thought the world of him. As he did of her. They had a mutual admiration society going that Ellie was not a part of, nor did she want to be. Obviously, the man had a side to him she hadn't seen, or else he'd completely fooled his cook. Either way, it didn't matter to Ellie. Sure, she believed Jack could be a nice, normal guy, at least while, drying dishes for her or jumping on a trampoline. But was that enough? Not for her. Not for the average female. Did Jack care? Obviously not.
At the end of the afternoon Clara sat down at her sewing machine to do the final stitching. And when she finally finished, she stood and held up the most spectacular dress, a simple, black, elegant number that looked amazingly like the one in the magazine. If Ellie hadn't believed in magic before, she did now.
When Ellie tried it on, it was hard to imagine who was more pleased with the results—Hannah, Clara or Ellie.
It fit the way no store-bought dress would ever fit, as if it were made for Ellie. And it was. Ellie stood facing the full-length mirror in the bedroom staring at her reflection. Who was that woman there and where was she going?
Feeling like the recipient of an extreme makeover, Ellie walked slowly back into the living room. Hannah clapped her hands gleefully, looking tired but pleased and proud of her sister. She demanded that to repay them, Ellie had to give them a blow-by-blow account of the evening. Then Clara drove her home with the dress in a plastic bag and with only a half hour to spare. Before driving away, she blew Ellie a kiss from the car. It seemed incredible that she'd only known these women for an afternoon. As Elbe fumbled with her key at the front door, the kindness of these two heretofore strangers brought a tear to her eye. She'd store up enough information tonight to make a good story to tell them tomorrow. Even if she had to make up the whole thing.
It was a good thing Ellie didn't have any more time to think about the evening, or she might have panicked. As it was, her sister April called just as she was winding her long, straight, blond hair around the curling iron, trying to coax it into shape.
"I thought you were working all week," April said petulantly.
If she thought Ellie was working, why did she call her at home, Ellie wondered.
"I am. I'm just changing clothes, then I have to go, uh, back to work." No way would she disclose her actual evening plans, though it really was a part of her work. But April, May and Gwen would misunderstand. They'd think it was a date. They'd be jealous. They'd be angry. They'd be resentful. They'd want to know what she was wearing.
"What's he like?" April asked.
"Who?" Ellie asked innocently.
"You know, your boss, that millionaire."
"Opinionated and self-assured, that's what he's like. He likes to give orders. But it's okay, it's only for a week. I have to go, April. Talk to you later."
Ellie smeared a light foundation on her face, wondering why April had called, anyway. Just checking up on her? It was a relief not to have to see them every day. Then she applied a little mascara, wriggled into the dress and a pair of strappy sandals May had handed down to her when she bought a new pair, and ran to the door when the bell rang.
Jack looked so serious in his tux and black tie and so heart-stoppingly good-looking, Ellie couldn't move or speak.
The same problem seemed to have struck him. He stopped in the doorway and stood there like a statue. It wasn't fair. So rich, so handsome and yet so unavailable. Who could compete with his business? He could probably have any woman he wanted, if he made the ultimate sacrifice and put them ahead of his work, but all he seemed to cafe about was money. On the other hand, maybe women saw through that handsome facade to the heart of stone within. He stood in the doorway for so long without speaking, she was afraid something terrible had happened.
"Anything wrong?" she asked, catching her breath at last, and waving him into the living room.
"Turn around."
She pivoted. There was something wrong with the dress. That's what it was. The black silk swooshed around her legs. Maybe it wasn't appropriate. Too tight. Too much skin showing. Too low in back. Too low in front. Or something. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Where'd you get the dress?" he asked at last, his voice sounding like he was choking.
"Hannah."
"This is her dress?"
Ellie laughed nervously. "It was, but her sister made it over for me. In one afternoon. It was magic. Forget I said that, you don't believe in magic."
"I might have to change my mind."
"I know there'll be a lot of women in designer dresses in attendance. I just hope I won't stand out."
"You'll stand out," he said with a certain edge in his voice that made her pulse quicken. She didn't know quite how to take that. All she could do was to tell herself not to get carried away.
Jack adroitly switched the subject; they went to his car, and he kept his eyes on the road and talked business all the way to the symphony. He talked about the seminar, the various enterprises he wanted to fund, and gave her a description of the money men he was hosting this week. She w
as relieved they were on an impersonal subject. He was her boss and she was his temporary cook in a fancy dress. She wasn't a date. She hoped she wouldn't stand out. She hoped no one would notice her or wonder who she was.
The domed symphony hall was near the Civic Center, across the street from the Greek Revival city hall that was illuminated and stood out in the night sky, a homage to the classic period. Jack gave his car to a valet, and he put his hand on her bare arm as they climbed the steps to the wide doors of the hall.
A frisson of excitement shimmied up her spine, caused by the highly charged atmosphere, the crowds of well-dressed symphony patrons, the smell of money and expensive perfume, her dress and Jack. After all, in that dress, with his hand on her arm, he made her feel like she belonged there. That she was just as attractive, just as well turned out, just as classy as everyone else. A brief glance around told her he was the best-looking man on the premises, and just for tonight he was her escort.
Let people think what they like. She knew this was all business. She knew she was not his type, not a woman who attended the symphony nor mixed with the rich and well connected. Her place was behind the scenes, peering out from behind the kitchen door, hearing praise for the food and taking satisfaction from that.
Just a glance around at the acres of designer dresses, glittering jewelry and off-season-in-the-Caribbean tanned skin told her she was in a different world. But after the way Jack looked at her, she had confidence that she didn't stand out. She felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach start to dissolve.
In the foyer there were tables set with faux birch trunks, green leaves and votive candles, all of which, Ellie gathered, added up to a "Silver Starlight" theme. There were women in glittery silver gowns, too, but Ellie was content in black, more than content. And if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that Jack's admiring glances that came her way helped a lot to boost her confidence.
"I have to warn you," Jack said as they walked across the marble floor. A waiter came by with a tray of champagne before he could finish his sentence.
Oh-oh. Here it comes. She knew what he was going to say. Don't tell anyone who you are. Don't tell anyone you're with me.
"My father will be here," he said, leaning down to whisper her ear. "He can be…difficult."
"In what way?" she asked. Jack's warm breath on her ear sent a shiver up her bare back.
"In every way. There he is now. Oh, hello, Dad. I want you to meet Ellie. Ellie, this is my dad, Spencer Martin."
Jack's father was almost as good-looking as Jack, tall and tanned and fit looking. He made no secret of scrutinizing Ellie from head to toe and holding her hand after he shook it.
Then he gave Jack a quizzical look.
"I'm just his cook," Ellie blurted.
Jack's eyes widened in surprise. His lips twitched and his grip on her arm tightened.
"I'm filling in. Just temporarily," she added. She didn't know what had gotten into her. It must have been the atmosphere, so heavy, so rich, so unreal, so beyond her reach, that made her want to make a statement. Though she loved children's parties, this kind of party was not what she was used to.
"Good to see you, Dad," Jack lied. He'd hoped to avoid his father tonight. He didn't want his opinion or his advice. He didn't want a lecture about women. He didn't want to explain Ellie. Jack was not thinking well, if he was, he would have taken steps to avoid his father. In fact, Jack wasn't thinking at all. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but everything, the furnishings, the crowd all seemed in soft focus.
Everything but Ellie, his replacement cook. She stood out clearly. In that black dress, with her creamy skin and her blond hair, she was a knockout. There were other beautiful women in the room. At least he thought there were. But he didn't see them. He only saw her. He not only saw her, he saw things through her eyes, those big, brown expressive eyes. He'd never seen the symphony hall looking more spectacular, he'd never noticed the marble floors and the sculptures in the alcoves. Not only that, but there was something in the air, something that hadn't been there the last time he was here, a sense of excitement, a promise of things to come that he thought she felt, too.
It had something to do with the shock he'd gotten when she'd opened her front door. That must be the reason he felt the way he did. The shock of seeing her dressed up. The woman was a chameleon. First she was in a short skirt at his office, next she was Cinderella in that ridiculous costume and bare feet. Then she was the kid jumping up and down on the trampoline. And now this. He didn't know what to make of her. He didn't know what to expect from her. And when he'd banged his head against hers in his kitchen, maybe he really had suffered a minor concussion. He sure had some strange symptoms. He wondered if she had them, too.
Jack noticed his father was studying him, his father's narrowed gaze traveling from Jack to Ellie.
"Can I have a word alone with you, son?" Spencer asked.
Jack shrugged and asked Ellie if she would excuse him for a moment. She nodded. He and his father walked toward the bar.
"I don't want to pry into your private life, Jack," his father said, stopping by the wall.
"Then don't," Jack said.
"Just a word to the wise, that's all," Spencer said with a smile. "Is she really your cook?"
"Just temporarily."
"Because I don't need to tell you how important it is to move in the right circles, not to lower your standards and always be aware of what impression you're making on certain people."
"Are you suggesting that Ellie isn't making a good impression?" Jack asked tersely.
"Not at all," Spencer said smoothly. "I saw the way you were looking at her. She's an attractive woman. I admit that. I just want to remind you that all it takes is one mistake to mess up your life."
"Like you did."
"In a word, yes."
"I'll remember that," Jack said. He'd remember all right. He'd remember the mess his father had made of his marriage and he wouldn't make the same mistake. He would also remember that it took two to break up a marriage and that his father refused to admit that. When Jack got married, if he got married, it would be a love match, a partnership of equals.
He glanced back at Ellie, looking lovely in her hand-me-down dress, a woman any man would be proud to be seen with at the symphony. How dare his father suggest he'd lowered his standards to invite her!
"Thanks for the advice, Dad," he said. "I promise I won't make the same mistake you did."
His father patted him on the back and they walked toward Ellie.
Sure, there were people here he had to talk to. Jack understood that this was only a social occasion on the surface, underneath it was all business, calculated to soften up his investors. Of course, he wasn't going to give anyone the hard sell, just subtle reminders of what this was all about. Having his attention diverted by his cook was something he hadn't counted on.
Just then Rick tapped him on the shoulder. "Got a minute? There's someone I want you to meet."
Jack hesitated a moment. He did not want to leave Ellie. He especially didn't want to leave her in the company of his father. God only knew what Spencer would say to her.
"Hey," Rick said to Ellie, his eyes lighting up. "It's you." He turned to Jack. "You didn't tell me…"
"I don't tell you everything. Now, what were you going to say?"
"Cole Hansen is here. This might be a good chance to talk to him."
Rick didn't need to say anymore. Cole Hansen was the new president of the Jeffrey Fund. Jack had been trying to get in touch with him for weeks. He'd sent him a brochure, left messages but had never heard from him. If he could get him to invest in one of his companies, it would be a real coup.
"Would you excuse me?" Jack said to Ellie. "See you later, Dad." Jack shot a glance over his shoulder and was dismayed to see his father's head bent forward, talking a mile a minute to his cook, to his date.
"So what's going on? I almost didn't recognize your date in that dress. Everyone wants
to know who she is," Rick said as they made their way across the crowded room. "I knew something was going on between you two in the kitchen. I thought you didn't date the hired help."
"I don't," Jack snapped. "This isn't a date. She's a chef. My chef. I brought her because I thought she ought to see what the competition is doing. The caterer is the hottest chef in town, in case you didn't know."
"I didn't know. I do know that your chef is the hottest thing I've seen for a long time. I don't suppose you noticed?"
"Of course I noticed. I'm not blind. I'm telling you this is all about business. I'm here because I have to be. She's here because I needed a date. Why do my dates have to be the object of anyone's attention?" For some reason he'd never minded before. His dates hadn't minded, either. But he minded now. He didn't want people talking about Ellie, speculating about her. First his father. Now Rick.
"Wait a minute. Is she your date or not?" Rick asked. "A minute ago you said…"
"I know what I said. Look, I've got a lot on my mind. You know how much I'm counting on putting this deal together. If anything else goes wrong…"
"What's gone wrong? Everyone's happy. Everyone's impressed. Everyone's interested."
"I hope so. I thought you wanted me to meet Hansen. Well, what are we waiting for?" But who was dragging his feet? Who kept looking over his shoulder at his "date"? Not Rick. It was Jack who couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her or keep his mind off of her. What had come over him?
Chapter Five
Jack met Cole Hansen and had the man's ear for ten minutes. Only ten minutes to explain his fund over the buzz of the voices in the room. But his mind was wandering. Wandering across the room to where his temporary cook was surrounded by a small group of men in tuxes and black ties. How had that happened in the space of a few minutes? He wondered what they were saying to her and what she was saying to them. Was she telling them about her restaurant plans? Was she lining up more investors in case he fell through? Or was she lining up future customers for her restaurant? Or were they just simply flirting with her? And if they were, was she flirting back? She had her back to him, and from where he stood, he had a glimpse of her legs thanks to the slit up the back of her dress. He'd have to thank Hannah for her work on the dress. It was sensational. Or more accurately, Ellie was sensational in the dress.