One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go

She flipped the sheet, wrote her name above contestant number one, then blacked it out letter by letter.

The phone interrupted her as she turned the n in Morgan into an inky square.

“Baby Mart, how may I help you?” she automatically answered.

“Ms. Tess Morgan?” The woman spoke with diligently cultivated culture.

“This is she.” She couldn’t say, “Yeah, it’s me,” to this voice.

“This is Dorothea Danzig, Mr. Marsh Bailey’s personal assistant. Mr. Bailey would be honored if you would attend a reception to launch the new catalog this Saturday evening.”

“Me?” So much for outclassing the classy voice on the other end of the line.

“You are the owner of Baby Mart?”

“Yes, I am.” She said that satisfactorily, hardly a gasp of astonishment in her businesslike response.

“Cocktails from seven to nine in the Windsor Room of the Sherman Arms Hotel, then dinner at nine. May I add your name to the guest list, Ms. Morgan? Mr. Bailey will provide transportation, of course.”

“I’d be very pleased to attend.” Did that sound all right, or was there a little wheeze in pleased?

“Splendid. Your limo will be there at 6:30 p.m., if you’ll be so kind as to give me your home address.”

Home address? Yes, she had one! She gave it triumphantly.

She was going to ride in a limo, a limo as in prom night, wedding…funeral procession!

“You may, of course, bring an escort if you like. I believe you’re a friend of Mr. Bailey’s grandson, but it’s completely optional whether you choose to invite someone. The event is black tie.”

Tess repeated the date and time, scribbling them on the margin of her list as the call ended.

Was it because she’d liked the portable potty? Or because lime green reminded her of lizards, pond scum and diet lime soda? More likely, Cole’s grandfather was trying to use her to entice his grandson into taking an interest in the business. The Bailey men were leading her on a flimsy rope bridge over very sticky quicksand. She could only hope her common sense was an adequate safety net.

GETTING DATES for Cole proved as easy as locating a free cat. Friday night was a snap. Tess had gotten reacquainted with a classmate, Jordan Collins, who’d recently moved back to the area. She was on the thin side, but Cole hadn’t made a point about size or shape.

“I had a huge crush on Cole in high school,” Jordan admitted when Tess called her that evening after work. “But didn’t everyone? He was so adorable in a naughty sort of way.”

“Certainly not me,” Tess lied.

Saturday was even easier to book. A real friend, Margo Hendricks, volunteered when Tess groused to her over lunch on Tuesday. She’d never met Cole, but a longtime relationship with a live-in boyfriend had fizzled a few weeks earlier.

“I hate all men, and I hate blind dates even more,” Margo said. “But if I do this for you, we’ll be even for all the time you spent listening to me sob about Rick.”

“You’ll be perfect,” Tess declared.

She didn’t have a free minute to tackle a really serious problem until Friday. What should she wear to a reception at the Sherman Arms? She took a long lunch break and covered the stores in the mall, deciding she really couldn’t afford five hundred dollars for a midnight-blue evening gown shimmering with a touch of deep violet even though it made her look thin and feel like glamour personified.

After work she resorted to desperate measures—she went to her sister. Karen agreed to loan anything she owned in exchange for Tess keeping Erika and Erin overnight sometime soon so she and Duke could relive their wedding night at Martino’s Resort and Spa.

“You don’t know what pleasure is until you bask in one of their heart-shaped hot tubs,” Karen enthused.

“I can’t decide which dress to wear,” Tess said, trying not to imagine Cole rising up in a cloud of mist and leading her to a bed covered in black satin sheets. “I’ll have to take some home.”

“Come back tomorrow. It isn’t as if Royal Oak is as far away as the moon.”

“Can’t. Have to work in the morning. Then get my hair done.”

“A French twist, have it piled up in a French twist.”

“Maybe.” It was a good idea, but if she gave her big sister any encouragement, Karen would want to choose everything from eye shadow to toenail polish.

By Friday evening, Tess still hadn’t decided. Five of Karen’s best dresses were spread out on her bed, and she’d just taken off a sixth when the door buzzer summoned her. She slipped into a short pink robe and hoped she didn’t have a visitor who expected to come inside.

Why was she not surprised to see Cole’s image in her spy hole? Was this part of his blind-date ritual, reporting to her on the state of the date?

She opened the door a crack.

“I’m not dressed.”

“I don’t mind.” He sounded sheepish but adamant.

“Good or bad date?”

“Maybe a few suggestions so you can do better next week.”

“I didn’t enlist for the duration of the war!”

“You didn’t enlist at all. You were drafted. Got any popcorn?”

“I’m not dressed for company.” How could she resist his pathetic smile? “Oh, come in.”

“I’ll pretend you’re at the beach. Guess you’d have to take off more for that. Would you be more comfortable if I took my shirt off?”

“Don’t!”

“Just kidding, not that I have much sense of humor left after that date. I thought she was going to attack me with a steak knife.”

“Oh, dear. Let me put some popcorn in the microwave. You’re kidding about the knife, right?”

“I took her to a place that specializes in steaks. She doesn’t eat meat.”

“That’s not unusual.” She set the timer, conscious of Cole hovering near the sleeve of her robe.

“She doesn’t wear leather, she doesn’t step on bugs and she only eats salad made with produce that comes with six different labels guaranteeing no chemicals were used in producing it. She made the waiter bring an empty bag from the kitchen. The lettuce flunked.”

“It’s smart to be careful about what you put in your body.”

Tess felt defensive. After all, he was the one insisting she find dates for him. Could she help it if there were no perfect women on the dating circuit?