Waking Sleeping Beauty (20 page)

“So you’re not mad?”

He shook his head, and then frowned. “Is your mother invited?”

She half laughed at the absurdity of that. “I’ve cut all ties with her.”

“Francie.” Concern laced his voice.

“Tough love.”

“Tough love?”

“I’ve tried showing her and even telling her, but she won’t listen. Now, I have to do what’s hardest of all. Face reality.”

“Maybe if I talk—”

She held up her hand to silence him. “Thank you, but it’s something I have to do. I wanted the fairy tale. It’s not going to happen.” She revealed far too much, not just about her relationship with her mother. There would be no perfect anything in her life. Because nothing
was
perfect. The silly childhood notion had colored her views all her life.

“Don’t stop dreaming,” he said.

This time she chuckled. “Why, Marcus Goode, have you been spending too much time in the wedding boutique?”

“My mother, I’m afraid, is sandpapering my rough edges. She’s in love.”

“Again?” A slither of alarm rushed through Francie. “You’ll make sure she won’t get hurt.”

“He’s a great guy. You remember Isaac from the nursing home? They’ve known each other for years. They share a strange history, let’s just say. They’d exchanged Christmas cards every year, keeping each other up to date on how they were doing. Now they’ve ended up in the same nursing home. They’ll be spending their first Christmas together this year. Coincidence? Or fate?”

Christmas? She longed to be with Marcus. But, she’d spend it with her family instead and far away from him. She shook off the sad, lonely thought of not being with him. “Your mom’s happy?” A rush of relief swept through Francie.

“And I’m happy for her.” He held up the invitation. “I know she’d love to come.”

“And bring Isaac.”

“Speaking of the wedding, is there anything you need help with? We can pull people from other departments if we have to.”

“Can you find a bride and groom for me?” she asked, her voice squeaking.

“Not you?” There was a stiffness to his words.

“Well, I’m sure if Doctor Neal is free for the day, he’d jump at the chance at being my groom.”

“He’s not an employee,” he said, cold and curt.

She shivered and not from the gentle breeze. “Not my type.” Although, she may have accepted him only a few short months ago. His practiced charm and eagerness at taking her for a bride would have seemed appealing then. Her expectations had been woefully off-kilter. Now, she’d shaken off the stars in her eyes and knew she’d never be happy in that situation. Marcus had shown her what she really wanted and needed.

He heaved a sigh. “Good.” He rubbed his jaw. “As far as the bride and groom, there’s no one here at King’s? What about Josie and what’s his name from shoes? Aren’t they a couple?”

“Just barely. It sounds like they’re near the end instead of wanting a new beginning. And Sammie and Tyler are still in school. It’s not in their short-term plans.”

“Boss, Boss,” Peg called out from the entranceway, “holy Jiminy Cricket, you’ve got the accountants biting at the chomps or is it chomping at the bits and pieces upstairs. Did you forget you were meeting with them,” she flicked a glance at her watch, “ten minutes ago?”

He cursed under his breath. “Be right there, Peg.”

“Francie, love the invites. Can you help me with a dress?”

“Sure. Come by later on this afternoon and get me. We’ll find you something spectacular.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Peg waved. “Sorry to break this up, but, Boss, we gotta hit it.”

Marcus looked down at her. “I’ve got to hit it,” he said with a grin in his voice.

Francie giggled. “I understand.” He gently touched her arm and rushed away. She watched his strong, solid back. Suddenly, he turned, catching her stare.

He strode back, coming even closer than before. “If I don’t see you before the mystery wedding, I want to wish you good luck with it. Even if it falls through in the end without a bride and groom, you’ve done an incredible job.”

“But I didn’t do
all
of my job. I didn’t fulfill my end of the deal or deliver the goods, as Peg might say. It’s like the anticipation of climbing a mountain: buying all the gear, practicing, yet never reaching the summit. I failed King’s. I’ll submit my resignation after the celebration.”

He didn’t try to pretend. “The public perception hinges on this wedding going off without a hitch. As the guy in charge of King’s at the moment, I can’t ignore their response.”

And she couldn’t ignore her heart aching as he stepped away, bowing slightly, and then turned to disappear into the store.

The end was near. How was she going to get through it all?

Francie rushed into the pet store, shivering as heat washed over her cold body. It was quiet. “Hi, anyone here?”

He jumped up from behind the counter.

Pressing a hand against her chest, she said, “You scared me. I didn’t know you were there.”

“I love when that happens.”

His glee made her laugh. “Shame on you.” She liked him. “I’m Francine King, the wedding consultant at King’s Department Store.” She held out her hand. “Are you Abe? I came to ask about a mobile petting zoo for an upcoming wedding”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m him.” He stuck out his large hand and pumped hers. “Cool beans. It’s my roommate’s buddy or something like that. He’ll be here any minute now to meet you. You wanna look around while you wait?”

Shrugging, she said, “Sure. But no snakes.”

He came around from behind the counter. “That’s what most of the girls say. You a cat or a dog person?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Ummm…not sure. I haven’t been around either one, really.”

“No kidding.” He whistled. “You’ve been deprived.”

His good cheer was infectious. “Lead away, kittens first, if you have any. Let’s start small, all right?”

Following him, she held back, not knowing what she’d encounter in the crowded aisles. She stopped behind him at the small cage. A tiny bit of calico fur, rolled into a ball, napped peacefully. “How cute,” she cooed.

He pointed to a nearby cage. “This one’s awake. You can pet her.”

Tentatively, she reached out a finger and felt the soft black fur. The kitten purred. Francie smiled.

A dog barked, drawing her attention. “Who’s that?” she asked, curious when the tiny, white fluffy dog poked his nose out the holes in the metal cage.

“No name yet.” He walked a few feet to the dog, and then opened the door and scooped him up in his arms. “We let the customer who buys them name them. But, I call this little scrap of fur Mr. Puddles.” He rubbed his face against the dogs and was granted with a pink tongue licking his face.

Francine looked at the little fluffy dog and gulped hard. “I’ll take him.”

“Whoa, now! You don’t know anything about him.”

“Then tell me.”

It was more than two hours later when, after learning about the breed of Pomeranians and Mr. Puddles in particular and meeting with the petting zoo owner, Francine now stood on her mother’s doorstep, waiting for someone to answer the doorbell. Her arms strained with the weight of her packages, but she held them tightly.

A sliver of alarm shot through her middle. She realized she hadn’t been back to her childhood home since the night she and Priscilla had walked out after discovering the ugly truth about the way their mother tried to control them all these years. Thank goodness Charlie buffeted them and sublet the loft to them. All that seemed forever ago, she thought, as the door creaked open.

The butler, who reminded her of a turtle with his long neck, slow movements, and hook for a nose, stood on the other side of the door.

“I’m Francine King,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

“I know who you are, young lady.”

She swallowed a chuckle. “Is my mother home?”

“Mrs. King is indisposed at the moment.”

“Phew!”
What a relief!
“I’ll just leave her Christmas present with you then.” She transferred the pet carrier to the man, waiting for him to grasp it. Mr. Puddles barked.

“A dog?!” He wrinkled his nose.

“Yes, and here’s some food, a book on how to care for him, and some treats.” She heaved the bag and dropped it over the threshold. “Oh, by the way, his name is Mr. Puddles.”

With that, she turned and raced down the stairs to the taxi cab waiting at the curb.

“Puddles?!”

She giggled, knowing they would soon find out why the shop owner had named him that.

“A dog?” her mother cried out, drawing her attention.

Francie, reaching for the handle to the cab door, looked back over her shoulder.

“Stop this instant, Francine. Take him back. Francie! Francie!” Her voice faded, losing its usual fierceness. Mr. Puddles’ barks pierced the air. Francie watched the dog’s pink tongue licking her mother’s face.

“What do we have here?” Colonel Baxter asked, joining the others at the door. He laughed heartily.

Her mother cooed, “He is…sweet…”

Francie’s heart filled with joy at the thought of her mother having something to care for, something that would love her unconditionally. And maybe, just maybe, her mother could love it back.

***

“Is this too plain, Rico?” she asked, turning one way and then the other as she looked at her reflection. The silk material fit like a glove, but the scooped neckline showed too much for her taste. “Are you sure this one should be included on the website?”

She heard a noise in the doorway.

“Rico?”

“Again trying on the wedding dresses?” Charlie giggled.

Twirling around, she watched her stepsister push away from the doorframe and walk to her. “I thought you were Rico. And I thought you’d gone home long ago.” Warmth flashed over her face. “This time I’ve got the okay and I’m not sneaking around.” Oh, how she recalled that night when she’d tried on the designer gown and Marcus had kissed her awake. She shivered at the memory of him.

“Rico’s pulling at least two more for you to try on. He thinks we should have a few options as to what to post on the blog tomorrow.”

“Options, huh?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she turned back to the full-length mirror.

Charlie came closer, looking over Francie’s right shoulder. “Have you considered yours? Options, that is? I know the owners of one of the modeling agencies that want you to work for them.”

She swallowed hard. “Are you telling me I should take it?”

“With them? They’re good people and they’d be great mentors.”

“I take that as a yes.” Charlie moved away. Francie followed her, plopping down beside her stepsister on the pedestal in the middle of the room. “Are you firing me?”

“I’m not in charge. Marcus is.”

“But, when, not if, the mystery wedding flops, King’s will be the laughingstock of the retail industry. Who will take this store seriously again if the customers assume we’ve, well, I’ve strung them along all this time without keeping our word, our promise to deliver the goods and find me a groom for the mystery wedding?”

Charlie sighed heavily.

Francie touched her stepsister’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. It wasn’t your intention to mislead anyone—”

“It got out of hand.”

“I’ve struggled to keep King’s open. Maybe it’s time to close it down, put it to rest.”

“No, Charlie, this is Daddy’s dream. You can’t give up now. Look, King’s will take a hit, but it will bounce back…” She gulped hard, grasping at straws. “The Charmings Wedding Boutique is one of the hot, new features at the January bridal show—”

“If we’re not disinvited.”

“Valentine’s Day will soon follow. Spring and summer weddings. And then you’ll have the baby and the customers will want to ooh and ahh over all things King’s baby items.” She hoped everything she’d said was true. Could King’s really weather this upcoming storm of deception?

“I’m not sure it will survive. It’s not just selling things, Francie, you know that. Our once loyal customers won’t trust us after this—” She stopped herself. “Integrity means a great deal.”

Francie squeezed her stepsister’s hand as her own heart clenched. She’d done this. She’d fix it, too. “Trust me, Charlie. I can do this.”

Short of finding a second rate groom she’d be willing to marry, Francie’s set of choices narrowed drastically.

Would she be the reason for the demise of the decades-old family store?

Failure looked her square in the face. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

***

“Let’s do the chicken dance,” the DJ yelled out. He pointed to the happy couple dressed in the matching chicken outfits they’d worn when they’d first met at the fast-food restaurant they both worked at a year ago.

The wedding guests roared with approval, jumping up instantly as the familiar music rang through the hall.

“Come on, party pooper,” Rico said, yanking on Francie’s arm. “At least dance this one.”

She held up her hands, backing away instead. “Go on, this is yours, take it.”

Watching him rush to the dance floor and begin the silly moves, Francie smiled. When the quirky bride and groom had come in two weeks ago, forlorn that nothing was working out for their reception, she’d assigned Rico to take over. He’d connected with them instantly, forming a mutual admiration society.

Now, he relished his hard work.

He’d make a great replacement for her as King’s wedding consultant. Evelyn would pick up in some of his weak areas, but he had this one.

Francie turned and walked away. Gathering her purse and newly cleaned coat, she made her way out into the chilly afternoon. Instead of hailing a cab, she walked the few blocks back to the store. The brisk breeze whipped through her as she tried to dismiss the questions swimming in her head.

What would she do? Where would she go?

Modeling definitely didn’t make the cut. The money to take care of her and Priscilla tempted her, of course. However, that lifestyle bored her: sitting for hours while getting hair and makeup done, more wasted time on changing outfits, and then came the painful posing in a statue-like position for eons. She’d learned that from her stint as a model for the recent King’s wedding ads. Modeling couldn’t give her what she truly wanted. If she didn’t know much else, that one thing rang true; Francie King had no business living a lie any longer.