Cinderella Screwed Me Over

support myself and my daughter…”

And on she went about her other husbands all through lunch, and all while we toured her friend’s place. She hadn’t loved husband number two, but he was wealthy; three she’d had lukewarm feelings for—he was even wealthier; and number four was a fairy-tale beginning, including being flown to other countries.

By the time I’d heard all about her many men, I felt like I never wanted to deal with one again. If I was pessimistic, Barbara was the eternal pessimist. Yet she managed to find optimism in her pessimism. Her philosophy seemed to be: “If life hands you husbands who don’t work out, make millionaire-ade.”

At the end of the day, as Nadine and I drove away from Barbara’s, I said, “Take it back.”

Nadine furrowed her brow. “Take what back?”

“That I’m anything like Barbara. That’s not my philosophy on love. It’s so depressing.”

“Your philosophy is pretty depressing, too. At least she makes money off it.”

“You’re jumping on the gold-digger idea now?”

Nadine laughed. “No. I don’t really think she’s as happy and chipper as she claims. She just talks like that to make it seem like she’s in control. No one wants to feel like they don’t have power.” She pulled onto the freeway. “It’s like those people who claim they’re anti-marriage because they really want to get married, but no one’s asked them.”

I groaned. “This is getting worse and worse.”

“I’m not talking about you,” Nadine said. “You had your chance to get married and you turned it down. Twice.”

“Not twice.”

“I bet he would’ve asked if you would’ve—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I let out a long breath. “All those stories Barbara told, that’s why I don’t want to get married. I’m wondering if she had them all fooled. They all thought she loved them, but she just loved their money.”

“Now we get to love their money, too. This project’s going to be hard, but we’ll be getting fat commissions.”

My phone rang. I dug it out and looked at the display. It was Jake.

I’d wanted to talk to him so badly for three days, but after spending the afternoon with Barbara, I was grouchy and back to feeling like relationships were all crap. If I talk to him right now, there’s a good chance I’ll screw up everything.

Not willing to risk it, I sent the call to voice mail. Nadine’s comment about my missed chances at marriage dug at me, my heart squeezing as I thought about how I’d let hope seep in, only to be crushed again.

No hope was sad, but having it was dangerous. I suppose the real question was would I be better or worse off in the end?

Chapter Sixteen

As I drove back to Barbara’s house on Thursday morning, I stuck in my earpiece and called Jake. All he’d said in his message last night was, “Give me a call,” so I decided to follow his instructions and see what happened.

“What time should I pick you up for dinner?”

I glanced at my phone to make sure I’d called Jake—yep. “I think you’re confused. This is Darby.”

“I know who it is. So what time works for you?”

“You just sounded like you’d already made plans, and I thought you must not realize it was me.”

“I did already make plans,” Jake said. “All you have to do is say yes.”

I found myself smiling, the stirrings of butterflies low in my stomach. “I’m free anytime after six.”

“Six thirty it is.”

Several hours later, I was thinking I’d never survive the day, much less make it to six thirty. Of all the days I could’ve chosen to break in my new gray heels, why’d it have to be today?

We were already on our sixth furniture store, and Nadine and I could hardly keep up with Barbara. The woman could win a gold medal in shopping. When she’d temporarily run out of things to say about her husbands, she’d asked Nadine and me about our love lives. When neither of us had much to say on the subject, she pursed her lips and studied us. “Hmm. Two pretty, smart girls who have never been married? I was on my second marriage by your age. I’ll tell you what’s wrong—you’re too intimidating to men. Do you rent or own?”

“Own,” Nadine said.

“I own, too,” I said.

Barbara frowned. For some reason it felt like we were getting scolded for being independent and good at our jobs. “Guys want a girl they can take care of. I read this book about it between numbers two and three…” Barbara went on to talk about what guys wanted in a domestic partner. Apparently, just because I wore a dress and heels sometimes didn’t make me feminine enough. I needed to act more desperate. To show a guy how much I needed him.

If I had to act needy and helpless to keep a guy, then I’d rather not have one. Nadine, on the other hand, was soaking it all in. In fact, while Barbara asked the salesman a question, Nadine got out her phone and made notes on all the books Barbara had suggested.

I peeked over her shoulder as she put the information into her phone. “You’re not seriously going to read those, are you?”

Nadine shrugged. “What’s the harm in seeing what they say? I don’t want to settle for anyone, and I’m not into marrying only for money, but I would like to get married. I’ve only got so long before my opportune time for having babies runs out. I’ve always wanted kids.”

After seeing what having kids could do to a relationship, I didn’t know why anyone had more than one.

“Did you two see this sofa?” Barbara said. “It’s simply hideous!”

My aching feet protested at the thought of walking around again. Money does talk, though—louder than feet—so I forced myself to shake it off and go see the hideous couch.

And it was hideous. The diamond-and-square, brown-and-orange print made me feel like I was having a seizure.

“Suddenly antique is taking on a horrible meaning.” Barbara looped her elbow through mine. “I know a place just up the street. Let’s go check it out.”

Some clients looked at a few samples and told you to do whatever; others wanted to be involved. Barbara wanted to oversee everything. Already, she was getting involved not only with the decorating, but also our personal lives.

“I’m having this function next weekend and you two must come,” Barbara said as we charged up the sidewalk. “You might have to settle for an older gentleman, but they have money and they will spoil you rotten. Of course if you want younger, some of my exes have handsome sons…”

As she rattled on and on, I felt myself growing more and more cynical.

…

Jake hadn’t specified a location, so I’d thrown on a black-sequined top and a pair of dark dressy jeans. Four- to five-inch heels were what I wore most days and I’d never had a problem before. But after all day shopping with Barbara, the thought of having to walk again—in heels of any kind—exhausted me. So I went with my black ballet flats.

I dropped onto my couch and watched TV until there was a knock on the door.

After checking it was Jake, I opened the door and leaned against the frame. “Hey, you’re not planning on going dancing or anything crazy like that, are you?”

“I’m open,” Jake said. “Why? Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere we won’t have to walk much. I wore new shoes today and my client could outshop anyone. I’m exhausted.”

“I just got groceries. I’ll whip us up something to eat and we’ll stay in.”

“I don’t want you to have to go to all that trouble,” I said. “It’s not like I can’t walk. I just don’t want to be on