The Cinderella List (2 page)

H
e was gorgeous. Literally.

Here he was, the personification of that tuxedoed dream man she and Jenny had concocted, smiling and casually sampling a deviled egg. In her dreams, Marlo’s perfect man always wore a tuxedo. That, according to her father, was her mother’s fault. Mrs. Mayfield had watched a lot of old Cary Grant movies while she was pregnant.

She could feel her heart pounding and her throat went dry. The response was so abrupt and powerful that it almost frightened her. Even when she’d discovered Jeremiah had betrayed her, her body hadn’t reacted as strongly.

Marlo considered herself generally coolheaded but this…this was the guy on the white horse, wearing the armor, rescuing her from the dragon. Suddenly the joke she and Jenny had shared all these years didn’t seem quite so funny. Of course, she’d never expected the man from her imagination to turn up before her very eyes.

“I see the housekeeper left the door open for you. Dining with Divas, I presume?” Her fantasy dreamboat stood framed in the
doorway, his elegant, chiseled features lit in the golden glow of lights in the other room, his back to the richly paneled room behind him where an honest-to-goodness butler was standing as straight and still as one of the Queen’s guards.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Marlo could see more clearly the even profile and the amused grin that played on his lips. He wore his hair short, but not short enough to tame the natural curl that evidenced itself above his ears and at the nape of his neck. She gawked at the perfectly polished shoes, his strong hands and even, charming smile. Fortunately, he didn’t appear to notice.

“Your catering business has a very good reputation.” There was pleasant anticipation in his honeyed tone and his brown eyes twinkled. “I’m expecting great things tonight.”

A pleasant shiver worked its way through Marlo as she recovered from her initial shock. Granted, this fellow looked like her dream man, but there was much more to her idea of the perfect mate than looks. She’d dated handsome men in the past and learned that the hard way. In fact, the most handsome man she’d ever loved had hurt her the most.

He looked at the women’s dumbstruck expressions and smiled more widely still, his white, even smile appearing more amused than apologetic. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jake Hammond. I’m part-owner of Hammond Stables. You’re catering a get-together for some of our clients tonight.”

“Stables?” Lucy’s round, ingenuous face looked confused. “I thought someone from a place called HMD set up this engagement.”

“HMD is Hammond, Mercer and Devins, an architectural firm. That’s my day job. Hammond Stables is my hobby.”

Horses, Marlo knew, were a hobby like sailing in the America’s Cup—neither easy nor cheap.

He eyeballed a plate of Marlo’s specialty, a hot artichoke dip, picked up a cracker and a knife and took a sample. Marlo
watched raptly, glad she hadn’t been skimpy with the artichokes. Who knew her hot artichoke dip would pass through the lips of an Adonis like this?

She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. As an incurable romantic, enthralled with those Cinderella fairy tales even into her teens, Marlo had sketched dreamy renditions of a guy like this all over her high-school notebooks. And now here he was, come to life and eating her artichoke dip.
Appreciates fine food. Check.
It didn’t get much better than this. He probably even smelled like oatmeal-raisin cookies.

“I-is there anything else you’d like us to do right now?” she stammered.

“You’re doing just fine.” He winked and Marlo’s knees nearly liquefied. That debonair look combined with a playful smile, shades of
North by Northwest
and
To Catch a Thief.
“And no doubt you’ll be as glad as I will to have this stuffy event over.”

He’s so handsome it should be illegal,
she thought grumpily.
Somebody should be prosecuted for looking like that, running around giving women heart attacks and all.
Still, she didn’t draw her gaze away.

“Jake, darling? What are you doing in the kitchen? The guests are arriving.” A beautiful blonde woman in an strapless, emerald silk taffeta dress rustled into the room. Her skin was flawless porcelain and her lips full and pouty. She appeared coy, brazen and petulant all at once. “Your father, grandfather and his friends are looking for you. The Hammond triumvirate is to gather in the hall to welcome guests.”

She looked at Lucy and Marlo, in their black-and-white serving clothes and sensible shoes. “You hired these people to take care of things. Now let them.”

At first Hammond didn’t seem inclined to jump to the beauty’s bidding, but then thought better of it, and with a generous smile
at Marlo and Lucy, he turned and held out his hand. The young blonde curled herself kittenishly around his arm as they walked out of the kitchen and returned to the party.

“He’s too good-looking to be real,” Lucy said, sinking into a chair. “I’ll bet he’s a hologram or something.”

“You watch too much TV.”

“Too bad he’s taken.” She looked slyly at Marlo. “You aren’t seeing anyone right now. Unfortunately, that blonde had her paws all over him.”

“They make a lovely couple.”

“He’d be perfect for you. I wish you’d start dating again. You are simply too fussy about men. Charlie was a nice guy.” Lucy scowled. “Maybe it’s that dumb list of yours.”

Lucy referred to Marlo’s latest ex-flame. Marlo felt no regret at encouraging Charlie to date other women or the fact that he’d actually become engaged to one of them. They would never have made it as a couple.

He’d gone to church with her. He’d attended Bible study with her. But he’d been going only to please her. None of it meant much to him—other than the fact it was a way to make points with her. That didn’t work for Marlo. Charlie needed to do those things for himself, and until he did they couldn’t be on the same wavelength. If the spiritual connection wasn’t in place, then a romantic relationship wouldn’t work either. Sincere, active faith was the first item on the Cinderella List, and there would be no negotiation there. When she checked that item off her list, it had to be for real.

“Charlie needs to have his own relationship with God. I’m not a proxy who can do it for him.”

“At least you aren’t like most of the single women I know.” Lucy plucked a stray radish from a plate of crudités. “You don’t talk nonstop about your biological clock.”

“Unfortunately, I think mine ran out of batteries, got unplugged or something. I wish I could find a man who could jump-start it for me.”

“You probably have Jeremiah Cole to thank for that.”

Tall, blond, tan, rugged in a surfer sort of way, he’d swept her off her feet the first time they met. She only found out later that he, with his compelling green eyes and smooth words, had a way of sweeping
many
women off their feet.

It had been a dreadful time. Marlo had been planning her own fairy-tale wedding—and might even have gone through with it, had she not caught her fiancé and his “other woman” in a cozy tête-à-tête in a downtown hotel restaurant. She knew for sure what it felt like to have a broken heart—one shattered like a piece of brittle glass.

Marlo despised revisiting that time in her life, but it was impossible to avoid sometimes, especially when someone new expressed a romantic interest in her. The experience had colored every relationship she’d had since, and her views not only about immoral men, but about soulless women who were willing to step into an existing relationship and break it apart.

“I learned a few things back then, Lucy. It wasn’t all wasted.”

What she had learned was that men were not to be fully trusted, because they could be comfortably engaged to one woman and dating another. She also learned that no matter how much she cared about someone, she would never pursue him if there was someone else in his life. She learned that the last thing she would ever be was the other woman.

It was painful even now, months after the breakup. “I thought that we’d be perfect together, and look what a mess that turned out to be. This time I’ll wait for God to handpick someone right for me, and stay out of the selection process.”

“Admirable,” Lucy said. “It’s
going
to take an act of God to
find someone for you. I worry that the standards you’ve set for your ideal mate are so high that no one will ever match your qualifications. You’ll regret that Cinderella List of yours.

“Jake Hammond is a perfect match in the physical looks category. Did you see what happens to his eyes when he smiles? They crinkle up and practically
dance
with laughter.” Lucy gazed dreamily into the glass-fronted refrigerator, swollen with food they’d transferred from the coolers in the van. “And you could hardly miss the way he fills out a suit. He must lift weights, don’t you think?”

Marlo thrust a tassle-topped toothpick into a meatball and handed Lucy the tray. “Scram. These go to the table.”

“If I can’t think about men, I can still imagine living in this house and cooking in this kitchen,” Lucy continued. “The parties we could have. Elegant, sophisticated…crème brûlée at every meal…truffles…caviar…sushi….”

“Crème brûlée at every meal? I don’t know.” Marlo tapped her finely shaped chin with a fingernail, as if trying to imagine it. Simultaneously, they looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Let’s party.”

Every time Marlo entered the vast dining and living room areas of the house to refill plates, her eyes scanned the room for Jake. The consummate host, he continually circled the room, speaking to every single guest as he moved. She noticed, however, that there was one guest who received more of Jake’s attention than the rest. An elderly woman with snow-white hair, pink cheeks and miles of wrinkles etching her face made her way slowly across the room, leaning heavily on a burled wood cane. She reminded Marlo of Britain’s Queen Mum. When she approached a group, conversation slowed and those in the group became very deferential, almost obsequious. Only when she left would they start their animated chatter again.

Jake, however, didn’t show the same reverence for the old woman. Each time he came around to her, their heads bent together, dark and white, and he would whisper something in her ear that made her smile. Curiosity ate at Marlo. What was their relationship? she wondered. What could a pair like that have in common?

About halfway through the evening, Marlo found out. The kitchen door opened and the regal little woman entered, surreptitiously escorted by Jake.

“I don’t think they saw us leave,” Jake said.

The old woman bobbed her head. “Good. That’s the stuffiest crowd I’ve been around in a long time.” She looked at Marlo, who was staring slack-jawed at the pair. “Jake said you’d make me a sandwich. I haven’t had supper and no amount of finger food will fill me up like a peanut butter and banana sandwich will. Jake will join me.”

Jake moved to the cupboard and took out the ingredients. He held up a banana from a fruit bowl on the counter. “Do you mind?”

Marlo stifled a laugh. “Of course not. Do you have any preferences? Thick chunks of banana? Thin?”

“Thick,” he and Bette said in unison.

As the caterer began to prepare the sandwiches, Jake said, “This is Bette Howland, grand dame of the horse world in these parts. She’s also my godmother and one of my best friends.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Marlo Mayfield.” She took a plate of sandwiches to the table. “Milk?”

Bette looked at Jake with a twinkle in her eye. “A woman who can cook. You should be nice to this one, Jake.” Eyeing the attractive caterer, Jake couldn’t disagree.

“Too many of these pretty young things after Jake are useless in the kitchen. Don’t know how they get by with it, but it’s shameful. Don’t they know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

Bette turned again to him. “Right?”

“Absolutely.” Jake smiled, glad to spend a few minutes with Bette, away from the gathering in the other room. But after gulping down a half a sandwich, he pushed away from the table. Realizing he should get back to the party, he said, “Bette, I’ll come and get you in a few minutes.”

The elderly woman waved a sandwich in the air as if to shoo him away. “Take your time, dearie,” she said, watching Jake leave.

Bette turned her bright eyes and full attention on Marlo.

“You’re a pretty thing. Jake could do much worse than you.”

Marlo felt a blush burning up from her neck. “I’m just the caterer.”

Bette snorted. “That has nothing to do with anything. Jake doesn’t have a pretentious bone in his body, unlike his father, I might add. Jake is like his grandfather, Samuel, my brother.” Her expression softened. “Those two are cut of the same cloth—compassionate, fair, loving. And Jake, bless his heart, puts up with a crotchety old woman like me.” She lowered her voice. “We go out on
dates,
you know.”

She grinned at Marlo’s puzzled expression. “Movies no one else thinks I should see—action-adventure mostly, suspense, mystery. Gory ones sometimes, although Jake refuses to take me to a horror movie. He’s afraid I might like them. Then we eat at a little diner around the corner from the movie theater. Oh, the heartburn I get!” Bette said happily. “I just love that boy.”

The old woman’s eyes turned sly. “I think you’d love him, too.”

Marlo didn’t doubt it. Bette had just described a man that fit perfectly with the List. Unfortunately, that was Jake’s decision, not Bette’s.

At that moment the kitchen door burst open. “Come on, Bette,
let’s stroll back in like we’ve never been gone,” Jake said. Bette jumped to her feet as though that cane of hers was a mere prop, and they vanished together into the din in the other room.

A big grin spread across her face. She liked Jake Hammond.

Two hours later, Marlo and Lucy were eyeing the last of the meatballs, a single plate of veggies and dip and the empty trays they’d stacked on the kitchen counter.

If the guests didn’t quit eating soon, they would run out of food. Hammond had told Lucy there would be twenty or thirty people in attendance, but there were at least fifty. Marlo hoped they had cans of smoked oysters in the van. Perhaps they could do something with them on a cracker.