by Dara Girard
“Thank you,” Deborah replied. “You don’t think it makes my hips look heavy?”
“You look great in anything,” the voice said. Jessie recognized it as that of Deborah’s close friend, Tracy Richards.
“I know,” Deborah said haughtily. “Unlike some people.” Her voice lowered. “Did you see what Jessie Clifton was wearing today? I mean, she should at least get a uniform that fits.”
Jessie’s ears perked up.
“She looked dreadful,” Tracy agreed. “Besides the fact that she was running through the back lawn like a thief.”
“Did you hear what she did to poor Kenneth?”
“I know,” Tracy said, censoring her tone as if it were a taboo subject. “No class whatsoever.”
“I mean, it’s bad enough that she and her sisters are ugly—”
“No, they aren’t ugly,” Tracy delicately corrected. “Just plain.”
“Close enough,” was Deborah’s flippant reply. “I mean, if I didn’t have looks, I’d at least try to dress nice. No wonder she hasn’t had a date since taking her cousin to the prom.”
Both women giggled. Jessie felt her hands ball into fists as shame burned her cheeks. First Kenneth, now Deborah. Didn’t they know she was already aware of her physical failings?
“I mean, first, there’s her sister.”
“Which one?”
“The eldest one, of course, Michelle. She did herself a favor and forgot about men after her separation. I think she’s the smartest one of the bunch. She’s really clever, but of course she has to be, since she has no looks. Then there’s the crazy sister who believes in visions and herbs, but their father probably believed in voodoo or something, so what can you expect?”
“That’s not fair,” Tracy chided.
Unashamed, Deborah continued. “Then there’s poor little Jessie. She always goes around like she’s something important, when everyone knows she acts that way because no one wants her. I mean, she can’t even keep a job. No wonder she has to tell fortunes on the side to make extra money.”
Tracy giggled.
“Plus her entire wardrobe consists of thrift-shop rejects. Why would anyone go out with her?”
That did it. Jessie could no longer hold her tongue. She shoved open the adjoining door, banging it against the wall, and stormed into the room, ready for battle. “As a matter of fact, I can get any man I set my sights on,” she announced, with her head held high.
Deborah and Tracy spun around, their mouths dropping open in shock.
Deborah was the first to speak. “What did you say?”
“I said that I can get any man I want,” she repeated, enunciating every word so that she wouldn’t be misunderstood. The clipped manner in which she spoke emphasized her Caribbean British upbringing.
Deborah had been taught proper social conduct since birth—laughing coyly, standing like a pole, and smiling noncommittally—but in response to Jessie’s statement, all these teachings were forgotten. She threw her head back and laughed until tears filled her eyes.
Jessie ground her teeth. “What’s so funny?”
Deborah wiped away tears. “You were always so amusing, Jess.”
“Deborah, she’s serious,” Tracy whispered, seeing Jessie’s eyes narrow.
“Of course she is,” Deborah said, eyeing Jessie’s flowery top and trousers.
Jessie placed her hands on her hips. “Looks aren’t everything.”
“Which is fortunate,” Deborah said lightly, “because you don’t have any. Now, don’t get mad at us. We didn’t know you were listening in.” She turned back to the mirror and ran a hand down her ample hip.
Jessie knew that Deborah had every right to dismiss her claim. She was every man’s dream: curvaceous and exotic with her creamy brown skin, pert nose, almond-shaped eyes the color of acorns, and reddish brown hair that fell in micro-braids down her back. One could easily picture her being carried off by muscular men and fanned with large palm leaves. Tracy, on the other hand, could be mistaken for a life-sized porcelain doll. Her facial bones were delicately carved, as if a sculptor had taken special care; her light brown hair complemented her skin, and her hands and feet were childlike. Men rushed to accommodate her, because she had such an innocent fascination about her.
Meanwhile, Jessie knew that she was best suited for manual labor. Her athletic build would best be put to use building houses or taming horses. She had once been told that she had a lovely nose, but that had been the only compliment about her features that she had ever received. Her eyes were an ordinary brown, and her mouth was simple—not full and luscious or even soft and supple, just simple, like an empty fruit bowl, nothing to comment about. She had deliciously expressive eyebrows and a firm chin, but her hair was always an unruly mess, no matter how she tried to style it. But she wouldn’t allow the stark contrast in her features to shake her claim.
“I’m not angry,” she lied, unable to loosen her fists. “I just wanted to clear up one misconception.” She drummed her fingers on her hips. “I have had dates, and I chose to remain single.”
Deborah looked at her friend and grinned wickedly. “When’s the last time you’ve been out on a date?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Right. Because you can’t remember. This isn’t a big city, Jessie. Everyone knows what everyone else is up to.”
“Well, you don’t know me. Sometimes I go out of town and meet guys and have fun.”
Deborah toyed with one of her braids. “Do you do this before or after a game?” she asked, referring to Jessie’s sports activities: tennis in the summer, soccer in the spring, basketball in the fall, and swimming in the winter. “Most of the guys are probably scared that you’re stronger than them.”
Jessie hesitated. Deborah wasn’t far from wrong. She usually intimidated men. Once she had unintentionally humiliated a guy by picking him up when he had twisted his ankle. She brushed that aside. “Look, if you think that you can get any guy you set your sights on, why can’t I?”
Jessie thought it was a logical question, but Deborah rolled her eyes. The topic had quickly lost its appeal. “Okay, perhaps you could attract some lower-class guy with no teeth, who would take you out to Bob’s Fish and Chips, but you could never get invited to an event like the Hampton Charity Ball. The only way you’d get in is by serving the food.”
Jessie’s voice turned to ice. “I could get a wealthy man to look at me.”
“Not just look. Desire.”
“Yes, that too.”
Deborah snorted.
Jessie began to fold her arms, but stopped when she heard a tiny rip under her arm. “Okay, you don’t believe me,” she said, her competitive nature taking hold. “Try me.”
Deborah’s interest was instantly piqued. “You think you can get any guy you set your sights on to ask you to the Hampton Charity Ball?”
Jessie shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes. I’m smart and funny and…and…” Words suddenly failed her.
Deborah grinned. “And what?”
Jessie returned the grin. “Charming.”
“Charming?” Deborah repeated the word as if it were foreign.
“Yes, I can be very charming. Charm has nothing to do with looks, and it draws men like honey.” She had never tried it, but she assumed it was true.
“You’re wrong. Charm has everything to do with looks. It’s a certain glance. A sly grin.”
“No, it’s about honeyed phrases and compliments. I bet, if given the chance, I could charm any attractive, eligible man I wanted.”
Deborah tapped her cheek. “And I was afraid this summer would be boring.” She glanced at the clock and grinned. “Okay, then the next guy that asks me to dance is your target.”
“But you have—” Tracy began.
Deborah tossed a skirt at Tracy. “Hang this up for me, will you?” She turned to Jessie. “He can’t know anything about this. I don’t want it to turn into a pity date.”
“Of course,” Jessie said,
offended.
“I want to see if you can get a wealthy guy to ask you to the Hampton Charity Ball.”
“Is this a bet?”
“Absolutely.”
Jessie thoughtfully chewed on her nails. “What do I get if I win?”
Deborah studied her for a moment. “You know, someone saw you coming out of Aunt Rhonda’s art room.”
“So?”
“Are you still pining after that little pendant your father sold?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is—if you really want it. I heard my aunt was considering giving it to the Historical Society for their museum, but I could talk to her.”
Jessie paused. “What do you mean?”
“If you win this little wager, the Sapphire Pendant will be yours.”
A sweet rush of anticipation swept over her. “You could get it for me?”
“I can get anything I want.”
She held out her hand. “You’re on.”
Deborah pointed a manicured finger at her. “But if you lose, you have to be my housekeeper for a year. And all my housekeepers wear uniforms, but of course you’re used to wearing uniforms.”
Jessie continued to hold out her hand. “I’m waiting.”
Deborah shook her hand, then glanced at Jessie’s outfit, an amused grin on her lips. “You almost look good in that. Put your shoes on and meet us downstairs in the courtyard.”
“Fine.”
Jessie went back in the guest room and rolled up her old clothes. She tried to smooth her hair back, but a few strands were determined to break free, so she gave up. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She knew that she looked ridiculous, like she had fallen into a flower bed and the weeds had attacked her, but she didn’t have time to find something else. She stuffed her soiled clothes in the plastic bag and headed downstairs.
She found Deborah and Tracy in the courtyard, as agreed. Deborah was putting on lipstick, while Tracy shaped her nails. Two men collided into each other when Deborah crossed her legs, her skirt falling away to reveal her creamy thighs. Another man crashed into a plant when Tracy looked up at him and winked. Jessie’s heart began to pound, threatening to beat her to death for her foolishness. What had she been thinking? Why had she allowed her temper to give her false confidence? There was no way she could charm some man unless he was under the age of eight.
She walked towards them, her bravado severely shaken. There had to be a way to save her pride. Could she plead temporary insanity?
Deborah and Tracy stood up when they saw her approach.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tracy asked, reading Jessie’s anxious expression.
Deborah nudged her friend in the ribs. She would not allow Jessie any excuses not to her humiliate herself. “Of course she does, don’t you?”
It was Deborah’s smug tone that prompted her next words. “Without a doubt,” she replied. She inwardly swore, knowing she’d lost her last chance to withdraw.
“Excellent.” She looped her arm through Jessie’s as if they were old friends instead of enemies. “Now, as I am sure you know, picking out the right man is a science.” She paused and looked at Jessie expectantly. Jessie obediently nodded, though she didn’t know what Deborah was talking about. “I tend to stay away from men standing near the bar.”
“But what’s wrong with a guy getting a dri—?”
“As for men with jewelry,” Deborah interrupted, “personally, I don’t go for men who buy jewelry for themselves, because then they won’t have enough money left over for me.” Deborah stopped suddenly in front of the library. “Now here is a perfect place to browse. Why don’t we stay here and see what we can come up with?”
“Sure,” Jessie agreed. It seemed like a safe bet. Perhaps she would get lucky and snag some bookish homebody who was desperately in need of companionship.
Deborah sat down on the bench, pulling Jessie down with her. “I’m sure that the next single man that asks me to dance will be perfect for you.” She looked down at her watch.
“Expecting someone?”
“Perhaps.” Deborah toyed with her hair.
Jessie watched, fascinated, as a man tripped over his own feet while looking at Deborah. She shook her head. Were men really that dumb, or did Deborah have something she just couldn’t see?
“So you’re certain you want the next man that asks you to dance to be my target?”
“Pretty sure.”
There was a niggling doubt in her mind. Deborah’s cool demeanor made her uneasy, but that wasn’t uncommon. Jessie stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. “That shouldn’t be too hard.” Just after the words left her mouth, Kenneth Preston walked out of the library. Even from a distance, he had a vitality that struck her like a lightning bolt. As he walked, people stepped aside to let him pass, as if he were royalty. A number of women nudged each other and stared in his direction. It took a few moments for Jessie to realize the true significance of his sudden appearance. Her mouth fell open, and she grabbed her chest to make sure that her heart was still beating.
“Oh, no,” she gasped, nearly choking on her words. She silently pleaded for him to pass them, for his date to grab his arm and lead him away. Anything to divert his attention. Jessie leaped to her feet. “I have to go.”
Deborah grabbed onto her shirt, pulling her back down, like she would a disobedient pet. “No, you’re staying right here,” she said behind a smile. She lifted her hand and called his name.
He came up to them and smiled. “I like a lady who’s on time. So, Deborah, are you ready for our dance?”
Jessie glared at her. Her voice was laced with ice. “You were already planning to meet here?”
Deborah stood up and continued to smile. “I doubt you two need introductions.”
“No.” His eyes trailed the length of Jessie’s shirt-and-trousers ensemble with sardonic amusement. “Nice outfit.”
“One of Aunt Rhonda’s charities, no doubt,” Deborah mentioned.
Jessie ground her teeth.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said, sensing Jessie’s rising anger. He was glad that for once, it was not directed at him.
“Before you two dash off,” Jessie said, taking hold of Deborah’s arm with a grip hard enough to make her wince, “I need to talk to you, Deborah.”
“Could you give me a few minutes?” Deborah asked Kenneth, fluttering her lashes in such a flirtatious way that Jessie wanted to glue them shut. He nodded, and she turned to Jessie. “What is it?”
“You set me up.”
Deborah blinked, becoming the picture of innocence. “Now, why would I do that? He’s just a man, after all.”
Right. Like Dom Perignon is just a drink; like Kilimanjaro is just a hill. Jessie glanced at Kenneth, who was talking to Tracy, then turned back to Deborah. She began biting her nails. “Look, I’m willing to do this dare with anyone but him.”
“Why? Think he’s above your league?”
“No one is above my league.” She desperately searched for words to explain. “I just…I don’t like him.”
Deborah lifted an eyebrow. “Impossible. Everybody loves Kenneth. He doesn’t have an enemy around. He’s absolutely perfect. You know you can’t get him, so you’re trying to make an excuse.”
“That’s not true. We’ve had a mutual dislike for each other since middle school, and I believe we have a good thing going.”
Deborah put up a hand and shook her head. “This isn’t middle school. You said that you could get any guy, and he’s the one that asked me to dance. Are you declaring defeat?”
Jessie shut her eyes. Defeat wasn’t an option. “No.”
“Good. So you have to get him to ask you to the Hampton Charity Ball.”
“But he either goes alone or with some hot floozy on his arm,” Jessie protested.
Deborah tossed a braid over her shoulder. “I went with him two years ago.”
“My point exactly.”
Debo
rah only smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. “Jealous?”
Jessie focused her eyes on the back of Kenneth’s head. “No.”
Deborah brushed imaginary dust from Jessie’s shoulder. “Good luck, then. You’ve got stiff competition.” She went over to Kenneth and looped her arm through his. The way she laid claim to him made Jessie feel a little sorry for Kenneth’s infant escort. “Bye,” she called over her shoulder.
Kenneth turned around and casually waved. “See you around. Try to stay away from gardeners.”
Both Tracy and Deborah laughed at his attempt at humor.
Jessie stood there, watching them leave, wishing she could crawl into the ground and stay there. Why hadn’t she just kept her big mouth shut? Why had she allowed Deborah to get to her? Now she was destined to make an idiot of herself. She had to make Kenneth Preston fall for her and ask her to the Hampton Charity Ball. The guy she had tormented for years; the reason her family had lost the Sapphire Pendant in the first place.
Chapter 3
“Michelle, I’m in trouble,” Jessie said, bursting into her sister’s downtown office. Her sister owned the Clifton Center for Business and Enterprise, a company that helped establish entrepreneurs. It had started humbly out of their basement, but it now afforded Michelle the luxury of an office on the eighth floor of the exclusive Winfield Building. It had a fabulous view of the downtown area and Catlon Bay. Peach carpeting spread throughout the room, complementing the simple furniture.
Michelle looked up from a contract she was reviewing and frowned. “What happened to you?”
Jessie looked down at her clothes. “That jerk Kenneth spilled his food on me. Mrs. Ashford gave me something else to wear.” She felt utterly ridiculous standing in her sister’s posh office in an outfit only a color-blind mole or a flamboyant rich woman would wear. She might have been better off just going naked. Her sister, on the other hand, looked stylish, as usual. She had class and elegance that helped to diffuse focus on her face. Like Jessie, she had plain features—ordinary brown eyes and a simple mouth—but her cheekbones were solid, and her eyes had a sparkling intelligence few could dispute. In her classic blue suit, accented with gold earrings and an emerald ring on her right hand, her looks were not an issue.