His Kind of Wonderful (Sugar Bay #2) (26 page)

“Fine.”

“How are Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Lou?”

“Oh you know...Lorraine hasn’t met a stranger and has the energy of a golden retriever. And Lou, the poor sod, follows her lead.”

Anabelle winced. She knew from experience, getting her introverted mother to be social was hard work. Poor Aunt Lorraine.

Fingers crossed, she asked, “So you’re having fun?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say…fun.”

Of course not. Her mother was allergic to relaxation and fun. She was a cross between the Grinch and Cruella de Ville. It was no wonder she suffered from a mild heart attack earlier this year.

“But you’re resting though, correct?”

The annoyed sigh was clear despite the distance. “Yes, Anabelle, the old lady is resting, just as the doctor ordered.”

“Mother, this is for your own good. Most people would love a tour of Europe.”

“Hmmph.” Her mother’s code for ‘I’m not ready to admit you’re right and I am wrong because I’m never wrong’.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying your birthday present.”

"You mean the kidnapping? What’s not to enjoy? Being dragged from ruin to ruin.”

“Look on the bright side, you no longer have to worry about Gladys Perkins.”

“Don’t get me started Anabelle. If I get back and she’s turned the Winter Ball into Moulin Rouge, it will be your fault.”

Guilt was her mother’s weapon of choice. She sighed. “I’m sure the other ladies in the league can handle things without you for a little while longer.”

“Yes, but Moulin Rouge?”

The Ladies League was the power circuit for ladies of leisure and Claire was a veteran powerhouse. In the last few months, new blood had joined the ranks. According to her mother, Gladys Perkins was loose in all ways and would be the destruction of The Ladies League.

Jeez. The drama.

From her mother’s ongoing rant, Anabelle had expected an older harlot, along the lines of Madonna circa Like a Prayer, gyrating along the pews and grinding against Jesus. The reality had been anticlimactic. There hadn’t been a peekaboo dress in sight. No ropes of gothic crosses either. Gladys wore Versace and Michael Kors. She was partial to the cheetah print, but a little cheetah never hurt anybody. Anabelle thought Gladys was a nice older lady with a zest for life.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Can you picture me dressed like a can-can girl?”

“You could always dress like a courtesan.”

A long silence followed. Had she gone too far?

“Did you get your cousin's invitation?”

Stabbed, right through the heart. Yep, she’d gone too far, her mother’s response was lethal.

“Yes. It’s a little rushed though.”

“According to Marybeth, Josie wanted to get it done before she began to show.”

“Got it.”

“Josie did a delightful job with her invitations. Stunning, isn't it. The dear girl always had exquisite taste.”

Anabelle didn't bother adding to her mother's monologue on all that was wonderful about Josie. If she didn't love the girl so much, she'd really have to hate her. The girl had a charmed life whereas Anabelle’s life…a disaster.

“And her fiancé, the doctor!”

Anabelle sighed while her mother rambled. She opened a drawer, dug to the bottom and found an unopened bag of Dove chocolates.

Her secret stash.

Three months, she’d made it. She’d left the bag unopened and controlled her chocolate addiction.

Until today.

Sanity weighed against falling off the wagon.

She ripped open the bag and the sweet scent of chocolate hit her.

Heaven.

She’d been so good for so long and now, Charlie was going to win their bet but she didn’t pause. Instead, she unwrapped an almond and chocolate bite of yumminess and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes while the chocolate melted in her mouth, savoring the experience.

“His family owns the Organic Farm. True stewards of the land.”

Another bite wouldn’t hurt. She was still under a hundred calories. Hopefully.

“And that house, passed through the family. A veritable mansion, you should appreciate that.”

“A veritable mansion, yep,” she murmured and stuffed a third piece in her mouth. She’d walk an extra mile tonight to offset the splurge.

“Anabelle Magdalene Broussard!”

Anabelle sat up straight despite her mother’s inability to see her. If Claire ever discovered Skype of FaceTime, Anabelle was toast.

“Ladies do not say, 'yep'.”

Anabelle took in the empty foil wrappers strewn about her desk and groaned. Ladies also didn't inhale half a bag of chocolates in one sitting either.

“I'm happy for Josie. She'll make a beautiful bride.”

“Divine. So of course, you'll be her matron of honor.”

“Um…no.”

“Why not?”

Diplomacy was never her mother’s strength so the fact that Anabelle would rather get a root canal without anesthesia than be on display in wedding party wouldn’t occur to Claire. The comparisons, the pitying glances, the never-ending rounds of ‘bless her heart’…she would stab herself in the eyes first.

“The fact that you are no longer married is no fault of yours. You simply need to try again and with all this time away to think, I believe in order to assure your success, I should have a greater influence on your next marital choice.”

“Please God, no.”

“And this time,” her mother continued as if she hadn’t heard Anabelle’s horror, “investigate a little further. Know his family. You’ll never believe it but I've got a date lined up for you and if it works, he can be your wedding date too. I’m sure he’d love to go with you, he's perfect!”

"No mother, no.”

"He's my hairdresser’s doctor and he's darling. He came by her shop when I was getting my hair done and, oh my, even this old heart skipped a beat."

Claire went on while Anabelle looked at the remaining chocolate with longing, trying to calculate the calories if she ate the rest.

“I’d caption that photo ‘Tie me up and spank me real good mommy’.”

“Jeez!
Charlie
.” Anabelle spun around in her Herman Miller chair. “I
hate
when you do that!” She killed the preview screen for BIGBOY123. Damn Charlie’s light-footed prowess.

“Sorry. I thought you heard me.”

“Noooo. I’m getting you a cow bell for Christmas.” And she’d check the lock for the back of the house corridor door they used between their two businesses.

Charlotte MacKinnon lifted a perfectly arched auburn eyebrow. “Relax. You had that open-mouthed guppy look going. The one you get when you’re concentrating hard and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Seriously, Charlie, the way you build me up, it’s heart warming. Open-mouthed guppy? Tell me again, why are we best friends?”

“Because you love me.” Hazel eyes widened as Charlie did her best Bambi impersonation.

“Don’t bother. It’s been a long time since you could pull that off.” Even back in Mrs. Ladner’s kindergarten class when they’d first met, Charlie had been the kid spouting random facts about penises and vaginas while horrified moms rushed to cover their offspring’s tender ears. To say Charlie had been a precocious five-year old was an understatement.

Charlie shrugged, unrepentant.

Anabelle checked the time on her Mac and winced. Her stiff shoulders reminded her she’d been trolling Cupid’s Match for an hour when she was supposed to research material for tomorrow’s presentation.

What a time suck.

“I need your opinion. Try these reduced sugar cookies just out of the oven.” She set down a plate along with a glass of thick, green juice. “Bon appetite, my little guinea pig.”

“Yummy…I think.” She picked up a cookie and cocked her head. “You put sugar in these, didn’t you?”

“Yeeeess. One time, you smart-ass. A girl makes a mistake one time.” Charlie snatched a cookie from the overflowing plate and took a bite. “See! Sweet not salty.”

Anabelle grinned at Charlie’s belligerent expression. She took a bite. “Just messing with you. Delicious. Better than yesterday’s batch.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you should put these on the menu. The guinea pig gives it two thumbs up.”

“Excellent.” Charlie gave a little happy wiggle then pulled up a chair to sit. “Soooo, what’s new?”

“Nothing.” She spotted her requirement checklist and prayed Charlie hadn’t noticed. The thought of having her best friend involved in this particular research made her shudder.

“Baloney.”

Anabelle straightened her desk, stacked papers and magazines, and tucked the damning checklist under a folder, away from prying eyes.

“You were pretty focused when I walked in.”

She turned back to the monitor and pulled up tomorrow’s preliminary presentation. “I was researching.”

“What? Serial killers?”

“Of course not.” She scanned furniture images and selected a few possibilities.

“You know you should let me set you up.”

“What?” She looked at chandeliers, refusing to glance at Charlie, the expert interrogator. Why she’d gone into baking instead of law was beyond comprehension.

“You’re not good at being sneaky Anabelle. I know what Cupid’s Match looks like.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She cropped an image in Photoshop and placed it in her idea collage.

“Look at me.” Charlie pulled her chair inches away and leaned close.

“Why?” Anabelle felt her friend’s scrutiny and ignored it as best as she could, clicking on another image.

“Because then I’ll know for sure you’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Crop. Click.

“Ok. Then look at me.”

She paused and sighed. “Fine.” She could totally win this time. Anabelle pushed away from the keyboard and turned to face the Quantico wannabe. Charlie leveled golden eyes at her and never wavered. The urge to squirm was strong and Anabelle held off as long as she could.

“Okay, okay. I give, I give.” Anabelle slumped back in her chair. “It’s not fair. You’ve got a creepy stare you know.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s a talent.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head. She pinned Annabelle with a stare. “Now…confess.”

Anabelle took a quick breath, nodding. No use putting it off. “I’m ready to date again,” she said and at Charlie’s squeal added, “I think.”

“Wohoo! Finally.”

“I know. I wasn’t ready before but now…”

“I think it’s great and I have some ideas for possible matches.”

“No ma’am. I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Matchmaking is in my blood.”

Anabelle rolled her eyes. “If you say so.” She took a sip of the green juice Charlie brought over. No one would guess by looking at the green guck that it was delicious.

“Seriously, you know I love you and if you’d let me—“

“Forget it Charlie.” She glared at her loving but bossy friend and massaged her stiff neck. “I’m glad your social life is hopping but that’s what’s great about this Cupid’s Match thing. I can do it at my own pace. The thought of cruising bars is horrifying.” Anabelle shuddered and Charlie grinned. “I’m dipping my toes into this dating thing, which you’ve harassed me to do for a while, so you need to back off.”

Charlie held her hands up. “Alright, alright…
pax
.” She bit into a cookie. “Mmmm…these are good. But you have to text me photos, descriptions, addresses and any relevant information before any date.” She grimaced. “You know…in case.”

“Of course.” Crime shows were their guilty pleasure.

“Good.” She beamed. “You’ve been sitting on the sidelines for too long.”

Anabelle shook her head and grinned because it was hard to stay irritated with someone so concerned with her best interest, even if that someone had steamrolling down to a science. An inherent danger of being best friends with a genius level type A was dealing with the ultimate know-it-all.

“Thanks. Uploading my profile is a
huge
step for me.
Major
. So big that it may be the
only
step if you start pushing.”

Head down in submission mode, her friend appeared duly chastised but one never really knew with Charlie. She had the come back quality of a rubber band. When you thought you had it were you wanted it, it would snap back and sting you. Hard. It paid to be aware around Charlie.

“Damn Gavin,” Charlie growled. “I’m all for celebrating same love but jeez…he really fucked up.”

Anabelle shrugged, accustomed to her friend’s rant. “What can you do?” She gave up pretending to work and opened a new window to browse for possible matches.

She clicked on a prospect. “This one’s cute. He has a Ryan Gosling thing going. A little young though.”

“Let me see.” Charlie elbowed close. “Not bad.”

Anabelle read the bio and sighed. “Nope. He smokes and I’m not interested in kissing a cigarette every day.”

“True. How about that one?”

Anabelle dutifully selected TallDH10 for Charlie. “It’s strange scanning for men like this.” She was an old fashioned girl. Some would say boring but when she’d married, she’d thought it would be forever. Turned out, her forever was eight years. “Looks a little slick doesn’t he?”

Charlie grimaced. “Welcome to the modern age of dating. Scan, discard or keep.”

“Pretty superficial, like you’re judging a book by its cover. You know, the thing we aren’t supposed to do?”

“True, but it’s reality. Photos have a maximum of ten seconds to make a good impression.”

“What if you aren’t photogenic?”

“Then it sucks for that person. But fortunately you
are,
so that’s one less thing to worry about.”

She made a face. Yeah. One less thing. Considering how out of practice she was, things could get tricky. She’d met Gavin straight out of grad school. Before then, she’d kept busy with school and a variety of goals. All worthwhile accomplishments except there hadn’t been time for a social life or even a hint of rebellion.

According to Aunt Martha, Anabelle was thirty-eight, with no prospects in sight and practically petrified on the shelf.

The thought of dying without experiencing a male induced orgasm was depressing.
The sheets hadn’t burned between her and Gavin, hadn’t remotely sizzled and she was late with her sexual revolution. But hopefully it wasn’t too late.