“And I am happy,” Wilhemina said. “Two new outfits. I'm taking them upstairs to find hats to go with each of them. My big decision is which to wear on Saturday night.’ She smiled. “Ta ta for now.”
Wilhemina swept past him up the stairs in a swirl of designer perfume. He watched the feather on her hat bob along the hallway. He turned to Miss Collins. “So Fernando couldn't get her to ditch the hat?”
Miss Collins shook her head. “It belonged to her mother. It would have been a kindness for someone to burn the collection, but apparently no one had the heart.”
“And Fernando couldn't get you to let down your hair,” he said, curious. “Afraid of change?”
She slid a sideways glance at him and moved away from the stairwell. “The makeover was for Wilhemina's benefit. I was just along for her comfort.”
“But it would have been a great opportunity for you to—”
He paused at the frosty glance she threw him. Her mouth tightened and she led him into a small office.
Turning to face him, she lifted her chin. “Mr. Wingate, my focus is helping Wilhemina find a man. Superficial self-improvement efforts for myself are way down the list.”
Michael shrugged. “You could consider it a perk for taking on the mission-near-impossible.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I don't consider it a mission-near-impossible. I believe Wilhemina has many good qualities.”
“Not the least of which is the fact that her father has almost as much money as God,” Michael said.
“Wilhemina has other good qualities. She has a good—” She broke off with a sigh and shook her head. “I don't expect you to understand. You don't need to understand,” she muttered under her breath as if she were speaking to herself instead of him. She met his gaze. “You requested a list of prospects. I have one,” she said, and pulled a sheet of paper from her desk.
“Already,” he said, impressed at the number of names on the neatly typed list. Miss Collins definitely wasn't letting any grass grow under her feet. He pulled out a pen to eliminate three of the names. “Where did you get these names?”
“These men will be attending the cocktail party on Saturday. I got the guest list through a professional connection,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Professional connection?”
Miss Collins lifted her chin. “I'm acquainted with the head housekeeper at the Rogers’ house, and the head housekeeper is good friends with the social secretary.”
Michael's lips twitched at Miss Collins's prickly attitude, but he couldn't fault her resourcefulness. She was definitely going to need it. He crossed out two more names and returned the list to her.
Miss Collins frowned. “Why did you mark off these men?”
“The first one gambles, the second is snorting his inheritance up his nose, the third doesn't prefer women. Ivan would never allow the fourth, because his father was once Ivan's rival. The fifth is getting out of rehab for the third time.”
Miss Collins gave a thoughtful sigh. “Why the question mark beside Jason Page?”
“Gut feeling,” he said. “Rumor. Where there's smoke…”
Miss Collins gave him a look of disbelief. “I'm supposed to eliminate a candidate because of your gut feeling or an unsubstantiated rumor? You'll have to do better than that.”
Michael shrugged. “When something doesn't smell right to me, it's usually rotten under the surface. You should trust me on this.”
“Trust you,” she repeated, as if the concept was completely foreign to her. “I think it would be best if we stick to facts.”
Her attitude got under his skin. Who was she to call his integrity into question? “I'm not crazy about this arrangement, but the job will be easier if we cooperate with each other.”
“I agree,” she said. “But you need to understand that I'm not going to roll over on a prospect just because you have an unexplained case of indigestion. You do your job and I'll do mine, and we'll get along just fine.”
He heard the barest trace of an accent in her voice as she left him catching a whiff of her soft, elusive scent. Some kind of soap, he decided, because it wasn't strong enough to be a perfume. Fresh and clean with a hint of something darker, almost sensual. Sensual? He snorted at the impossibility. With the tight bun and cold attitude, Miss Collins was clearly a man-hater. She was probably the kind who would cut off a guy's genitals in his sleep. But the accent niggled at him. He narrowed his eyes. He couldn't quite put his finger on that trace of an accent, but it definitely wasn't Pennsylvania.
Two days later, Katie stood next to a marble column in the shadows at the Rogers’ elaborate poolside cocktail party. Lily pads floated in the pool, citronella candles ensconced in decorative holders warded off encroaching mosquitoes, liquor and champagne flowed freely, and tables covered with crisp white cloths groaned under the weight of hors d'oeuvres, desserts, and ice sculptures of swans.
Katie didn't really care about the decor or the food. She was much more interested in the fact that Jason Page had given Wilhemina his undivided attention for the last thirty minutes. Katie felt a sliver of hope. Even if Jason didn't work out, his attentiveness gave Katie a reason to believe that finding a husband for Wilhemina might not be so impossible after all.
If only she'd been able to talk her out of the red hat.
“You might want to see if you can coax Wilhemina into talking with another prospect. I still don't feel good about Jason Page,” Michael said in a low voice as he joined her.
Katie felt her stomach give a quick twist. She didn't want Michael to be right. “Any additional facts on Jason?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the column. “Not yet, but my gut hasn't steered me wrong.”
“I'll address your concerns when you have facts,” Katie said, continuing to watch over Wilhemina. “She looks pleased and almost at ease. I'm not going to interrupt them just because you have some feelings you can't back up with facts.”
“Don't say I didn't warn you. You couldn't talk her out of the hat?”
Katie stifled a sigh. “I tried, but she's very attached to the collection. I think it's like always having someone with her who loves her. This one was given to her by her second stepmother. At least it's smaller.”
“It looks like she could carry water in it,” Michael muttered.
Katie frowned. Michael's evaluation might be true, but he didn't have to say it. “But the black suit with the trendy flower pin looks wonderful on her. Jason obviously agrees,” she said, hoping that would silence Michael. The man had been like an irritating, well-dressed shadow all evening.
“Speaking of dresses, is there a duller color?” he asked, looking pointedly at her light gray shift.
“I'm not sure,” Katie said with a secret smile of satisfaction. “But if I find one, I'll be certain to buy it.”
“I have to ask. You wear your hair so tightly wrapped. Does it hurt your head?”
Katie closed her eyes at his intrusive question. What business was it of his how she wore her hair? “You must be extremely bored if you're commenting on my hairstyle. Many people dress to make up for their personal insecurities. I've never had that problem,” she told him, and deliberately ran her gaze over him from his perfectly knotted tie, down his perfectly cut Brooks Brothers suit, to his perfectly shined leather shoes. She wanted to tell him where to stick his attitude, but counted to ten. She glanced at Wilhemina and saw that Jason was no longer by her side. “Excuse me while I speak with Wilhemina.”
Her mother's voice echoed through her mind as she made her way to Wilhemina.
Such a shame The man looks damn good until he starts talking. Maybe a good blow job would improve his disposition. Never met a man who didn't smile after getting a thorough French kiss on his—
Katie mentally cut her mother off. “And I'm sure you kissed just about every man you met,” she muttered under her breath and dismissed her.
Wilhemina's gaze met hers and Katie saw the woman's eyes sparkle. Katie smiled. “Are you enjoying yourself with Jason Page?”
“Yes,” she said, brimming with excitement. “He asked me to join him at his family's lake house tomorrow. He said he wanted to get some more champagne for me. I'm so excited I need to use the bathroom.”
Katie smothered a chuckle. “Then you should go,” she said, guiding Wilhemina toward the terrace.
“But I don't want to lose him,” Wilhemina said, biting her lip as she trotted beside Katie.
“I'm sure he can wait long enough for you to use the rest room,” Katie told her, leading her down a hallway toward the Rogers’ powder room. Urging Wilhemina inside, Katie stood outside the door like a sentry. She crossed her fingers that Michael Wingate was wrong.
In seconds, Wilhemina appeared, her lipstick hastily reapplied. “A little too much,” Katie said and grabbed a tissue from her purse. Another guest squeezed past her and Wilhemina, leaving them in the darkened hallway. “I need more light,” Katie said. “Let's try somewhere else.”
Katie wound through the hallway and took another turn. She opened a door and pulled Wilhemina inside.
“Where are we?” Wilhemina asked.
Katie shrugged and glanced around. “I don't know. It looks like a study. The important thing is that it has light,” she said, switching on two lamps. She scrutinized Wilhemina's mouth again. It was a mess.
“How bad is it?” Wilhemina asked, clearly a bundle of nerves.
“Not that bad,” Katie fibbed and began to wipe one corner. She heard the low voices of men talking to each other outside the door.
“Why are you spending so much time with the Rasmussen cow?” one man asked.
Katie paused midwipe. She looked into Wilhemina's eyes and saw that the woman had overheard the comment. The vibrant spark dimmed.
“Wilhemina's nice,” another man said. “And lonely.”
“Are you that hard up?” the first man asked.
“Things are a little tight for me right now. I lost a ton in the stock market, and my old man refuses to give me any more money.”
“So what you really want is some of daddy Ivan's spare change?”
“He's got plenty to spare. I figure if I pay Wilhemina some special attention, she might feel generous.”
“How special? You're not really gonna take her to bed, are you?” The man made a sound of disgust. “Her father might be loaded, but she's a dog, pure and simple.”
Katie watched Wilhemina's eyes fill with disillusionment and disappointment. Her stomach twisted with a combination of empathy and anger. Ivan was such a jerk Katie rarely felt a drop of sympathy for him, but Wilhemina was different.
“With the right motivation, a lot of Scotch, and the lights turned out, it won't matter what she looks like.”
Katie watched the light go completely out in Wilhemina's gaze and felt something inside her snap. She whipped open the door and looked straight into the handsome weak-chinned face of Jason Page. “I'm afraid you overestimate more than your charm and abilities, Mr. Page.” She pulled his glass of champagne from his hand and tossed the contents into his crotch. His eyes rounded and he yelled in shock. He immediately covered his pants with his hands.
Her heart pounding a mile a minute, Katie caught sight of several curious guests drawing near. “Omigoodness, Jason, it looks like you didn't make it to the bathroom in time,” she said loudly. “And I'm so sorry to hear of that defect with your private part. Incontinence must be embarrassing enough, but one inch—” She made a sound of false sympathy. “How terrible for you. We should go, Wilhemina,” she said, grabbing Wilhemina's arm.
Katie felt Wilhemina's stare of wonder as she dragged Ivan's daughter down the hall.
“
Bitch!
” Jason Page called after her.
Wilhemina gasped as they rounded the corner. “Did you hear what he called you?”
Torn between fury and shock at her own actions, Katie shook her head. “I've been called worse.”
“
I'm a feminist. I just believe a good push-up bra has done more for me than Congress has.
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM
W
ilhemina rode home in her father's Mercedes caught between a mixture of misery and awe. With the exception of a Slavic housekeeper her father had briefly employed, she'd never seen a female cut a man to ribbons the way Katie had. It had been a glorious sight to behold. She had wanted to tell Michael Wingate all about it, but Katie had signaled her to keep silent.
The silence allowed her to mull over all Jason Page and his friend had said about her.
The Rasmussen cow. Dog.
Jason Page had been so charming, so attentive. He hadn't even seemed to mind the story of her hat. Her stomach rolled and she covered her face. He had just been playing her for a fool. He only wanted her father's money. She would never find a husband at this rate. Although, if she ever trusted someone, she would tell what she really wanted even more than a husband. She wanted a baby. She wanted a child to nurture and to love. A child wouldn't care that she was different, and Wilhemina was convinced that she might not be able to do a lot of things, but she could love and protect a child.
But she wasn't sure how she could make that happen. Her stomach turned again, and she wished she had thought to swipe a dessert from the Rogers’ table before she'd left.
She just wasn't cut out for the Philadelphia crowd. For years, people had been trying to wedge her into clothes that didn't fit and into crowds of people that didn't want her. At the best times, she'd felt like a stranger. At the worst times, she'd felt like a failure.
Tonight, she felt like both.
Michael drove her father's car past the gate, then held the door for her and Katie to get out of the car. The humidity of an impending storm hung in the air. She felt Michael's curious gaze and would have loved to give him an earful, but Katie still looked angry enough to spit glass.
“Thank you, Michael,” Wilhemina murmured and allowed Katie to guide her up the steep steps and through the heavy door that bore her father's family crest.
She stepped inside and Katie led her up the stairs to her room. “I'm sorry you had such an unfortunate experience with Jason Page, but there are many others on my list. I've arranged for you to attend another party on Monday night at—”