Husband for Hire by Susan Wiggs

fastening. In the center, the jewel was large and set between a pair of unusual triangular-cut diamonds.
    The sound of traffic on hot pavement faded to nothing, because all Rob could hear was the echo of his last phone conversation with Twyla.
    What color is your dress?
    Red. Ruby red. Mrs. Spinelli wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’ve never owned anything this red in my life.
    It was Lauren who had taught him the importance of knowing the color of a woman’s dress on a date. In fact, it had been Lauren who had insisted that he ask Twyla about her dress. Lauren even went so far as to suggest a cummerbund color for Rob that would complement the red dress. At first he’d thought she was kidding, but it turned out that this sort of thing actually mattered to most women.
    He thought he should probably get Twyla a corsage or something. But when he saw the ruby necklace, he forgot all about a corsage.
    With a doomed sense of inevitability, he went into the jeweler’s and asked to see the necklace. The price staggered him, though he could easily afford it. He’d always had trouble spending money, even now that he had plenty. He’d grown up with virtually nothing, had worked his way through school by depriving himself of everything except the most basic essentials, but now that he was a partner in his lab practice, he no longer suffered from money troubles. Lauren had been instrumental in getting him to relax about spending. She deprived herself of nothing. She had no patience with being conservative. It was probably healthy, he realized, giving in to impulse every once in a while.
    But even so, the price of the necklace made him break out in a sweat.
    “What’s your return policy?” he asked.
    “Thirty days, and keep your receipt.” The jeweler sent him a look of incredulity. “What, you think she’ll refuse this? You got to be kidding.”
    Rob shook his head. “I don’t know her that well.”
    “You will after you give her this.”
    At the very least, Rob reasoned, if Twyla refused the necklace, he could give it to Lauren.
    As soon as he had the thought, his head reeled. What was he thinking? You didn’t recycle one woman’s gift to another. He slapped a bank card on the counter.
    The jeweler rang up the sale and couched the ruby necklace in a long black velvet box. Handing it to Rob with the charge slip, he said, “Congratulations. It’s going to be a great weekend.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

    G WEN M C C ABE BEAMED at her daughter. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day,” she said. “I thought you’d never get over your disenchantment with men.”
    “What makes you think I’m over it?” Twyla asked, checking the latch on her overnight bag. It was a wonder she even had an overnight bag—she never went anywhere.
    “Well, of course you’re over it if you’re going to your reunion with that nice young doctor from Denver.”
    Twyla decided not to burst her mother’s bubble. Gwen believed this weekend meant more than it did, and Twyla didn’t see the harm in letting her think this was something fun and pleasurable. She privately hoped that her return to Hell Creek would inspire Gwen. Perhaps seeing her daughter take this big step to face the past would help her take a step of her own.
    Off the porch.
    Twyla shut her eyes briefly. Her mother’s panic attacks had grown so severe that Gwen no longer left the house. She made it as far as the top step of the porch, then nearly collapsed from anxiety. Her mother’s condition had gone on so long that they seldom spoke of it anymore, because they got nowhere.
    “You must be so excited,” Gwen continued, oblivious of Twyla’s thoughts. “Remember how you used tolook forward to your dates when you were in high school?”
    “That was high school, Mom.”
    “Nevertheless, you must feel like you’re walking on air.”
    “I feel like projectile vomiting.”
    “Oh, Twyla—”
    “He’s here!” Brian came charging through the house from the