tea leaves. She could either end up hurting Max by turning him down, by continuing to push him away.
Or she could take a risk and maybe break her heart.
She shook her head. No choice at all, really.
“I’ll need to borrow a cocktail dress,” she said.
Meg grinned. “That, I can help you with.”
* * *
“YOU look really pretty, Mom,” Hannah said from her position on Cynthie’s bed.
Cynthie gave a half twirl in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection in Meg’s dress. The sequined silver sheath flashed and clung, fitting like fish scales before flaring above the knee. “Thanks, sweetie. I feel pretty.” She grinned and then winced as her matching rhinestone sandals rubbed her toes. “Like Cinderella, only with big feet.”
Unfortunately, while she and Meg were almost the same size, their feet were not.
“You should wear your cowboy boots,” Madison volunteered. “The good ones.”
Cynthie shot her a doubtful look. Yes, the Lucchese boots were the most expensive footwear she’d ever owned, a one-time extravagance left over from her wild days, studded and tooled and now relegated to the back of her closet. But she was trying to fit in with Max’s colleagues tonight, not stand out.
Madison shrugged. “You always tell me I should be comfortable. Better than hobbling around all night.”
She did say that. Along with,
Be yourself.
And,
It’s what’s inside that counts.
But was she really supposed to set an example over shoes? What would have happened to the fairy tale if Cinderella had rejected the glass slippers?
The broken doorbell thunked.
Hannah ran out of the room to answer. Cynthie heard her mother’s murmur and then Max’s deep voice.
Her heart beat faster as she hurried through the rest of her preparations, gave a last tug, a final tweak. Taking a deep breath to stifle the butterflies in her stomach, she smiled at Madison in the mirror. “Pumpkin time.”
Madison smiled back. “You do look pretty.”
A wave of love suffused Cynthie’s chest. “Thanks, baby.”
Max was standing by the trailer door, chatting with her mama and Hannah, his lanky athletic body in a charcoal gray suit over a black T-shirt. The unfamiliar clothes made him appear tall and lean and unattainable, like a fifties movie star. He glanced up at her entrance, his gray eyes widening, darkening, taking her in.
Her heart rioted.
“Wow,” he said. “You look beautiful. Like a mermaid.”
Her smile spilled, too wide to contain. She felt herself glowing. She stuck out one foot. “Not quite.”
His gaze dropped to the cowboy boots beneath her sparkly hem before he laughed.
* * *
CYNTHIE had worked parties before, weddings on the beach, family reunions and corporate retreats at the golf and tennis club. She was used to white linen tablecloths and spectacular views, to men in suit jackets and women in heels staggering over the sand.
But the aquarium at night was magic, its columns wrapped in fairy lights, the glassware on the tables reflecting the green and blue glow of the tanks, fish flashing, drifting, and darting above and behind the circulating guests. Live music filled the air, floating through the gallery, a band playing covers of beach music that Cynthie’s mother had danced to.
She caught her breath in wonder. “It’s prom.”
“‘Enchantment Under the Sea,’” Max said dryly.
“Is that from
The
Little Mermaid
?”
His gray eyes glinted with humor. “
Back to the Future
.”
She took his arm, smiling at her mistake. “Okay, I am such a mom. And you are such a geek.”
It took them forever to make their way through the galleries as Max stopped to introduce her to chattering knots of people. Like the marine life in the tanks behind them, the guests formed their own sort of food chain, Cynthie thought—the patrons, sleek and gray and confident as sharks; the bright, busy academics, focused on the food; the scuttling servers.
“Your friends are nice,” Cynthie said
Or she could take a risk and maybe break her heart.
She shook her head. No choice at all, really.
“I’ll need to borrow a cocktail dress,” she said.
Meg grinned. “That, I can help you with.”
* * *
“YOU look really pretty, Mom,” Hannah said from her position on Cynthie’s bed.
Cynthie gave a half twirl in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection in Meg’s dress. The sequined silver sheath flashed and clung, fitting like fish scales before flaring above the knee. “Thanks, sweetie. I feel pretty.” She grinned and then winced as her matching rhinestone sandals rubbed her toes. “Like Cinderella, only with big feet.”
Unfortunately, while she and Meg were almost the same size, their feet were not.
“You should wear your cowboy boots,” Madison volunteered. “The good ones.”
Cynthie shot her a doubtful look. Yes, the Lucchese boots were the most expensive footwear she’d ever owned, a one-time extravagance left over from her wild days, studded and tooled and now relegated to the back of her closet. But she was trying to fit in with Max’s colleagues tonight, not stand out.
Madison shrugged. “You always tell me I should be comfortable. Better than hobbling around all night.”
She did say that. Along with,
Be yourself.
And,
It’s what’s inside that counts.
But was she really supposed to set an example over shoes? What would have happened to the fairy tale if Cinderella had rejected the glass slippers?
The broken doorbell thunked.
Hannah ran out of the room to answer. Cynthie heard her mother’s murmur and then Max’s deep voice.
Her heart beat faster as she hurried through the rest of her preparations, gave a last tug, a final tweak. Taking a deep breath to stifle the butterflies in her stomach, she smiled at Madison in the mirror. “Pumpkin time.”
Madison smiled back. “You do look pretty.”
A wave of love suffused Cynthie’s chest. “Thanks, baby.”
Max was standing by the trailer door, chatting with her mama and Hannah, his lanky athletic body in a charcoal gray suit over a black T-shirt. The unfamiliar clothes made him appear tall and lean and unattainable, like a fifties movie star. He glanced up at her entrance, his gray eyes widening, darkening, taking her in.
Her heart rioted.
“Wow,” he said. “You look beautiful. Like a mermaid.”
Her smile spilled, too wide to contain. She felt herself glowing. She stuck out one foot. “Not quite.”
His gaze dropped to the cowboy boots beneath her sparkly hem before he laughed.
* * *
CYNTHIE had worked parties before, weddings on the beach, family reunions and corporate retreats at the golf and tennis club. She was used to white linen tablecloths and spectacular views, to men in suit jackets and women in heels staggering over the sand.
But the aquarium at night was magic, its columns wrapped in fairy lights, the glassware on the tables reflecting the green and blue glow of the tanks, fish flashing, drifting, and darting above and behind the circulating guests. Live music filled the air, floating through the gallery, a band playing covers of beach music that Cynthie’s mother had danced to.
She caught her breath in wonder. “It’s prom.”
“‘Enchantment Under the Sea,’” Max said dryly.
“Is that from
The
Little Mermaid
?”
His gray eyes glinted with humor. “
Back to the Future
.”
She took his arm, smiling at her mistake. “Okay, I am such a mom. And you are such a geek.”
It took them forever to make their way through the galleries as Max stopped to introduce her to chattering knots of people. Like the marine life in the tanks behind them, the guests formed their own sort of food chain, Cynthie thought—the patrons, sleek and gray and confident as sharks; the bright, busy academics, focused on the food; the scuttling servers.
“Your friends are nice,” Cynthie said
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