by JoAnn Durgin
“Buckingham Palace? Give my regards to Kate and William if they’re in residence.”
Brie laughed in the husky voice that charmed anyone who heard her speak or sing. She was one of the rare people so blessed. Many people probably assumed she smoked, but unless Brie had pulled the proverbial wool over her family’s eyes, she wasn’t a puffer—not even a closet one.
“I’m sitting in the back seat of a Rolls-Royce!” Had that squeal come out of her or Brie? Vara had never been a squealer by nature, but this was one of the highlights of her life. So what if she sounded like a fangirl? She could kiss Thornton for this fun albeit extravagant surprise…and she definitely would by the evening’s end.
“Way to go, Vara. Are you alone?”
“Yes, but only for the moment. I’m joining Thornton at the Valentine Dance in Cherish. It’s at their town library, a place you have to see to believe. It’s not Buckingham Palace, but it’s Baroque, elaborate, and completely fabulous.”
“Sounds to me like Thornton either has a ton of money, he’s a spendthrift, or else he really likes you. My money’s on the last option. I don’t know enough about him otherwise. And Daniel is definitely history, right?”
“Oh, yes. That’s long over, once and for all,” Vara said. “I’ve shed my last tear and forgiven him, so now I have closure.”
“Well, it’s about time! I hated to think of you wasting any more time moping over that cheating snake.” The girl was never at a loss for words and freely spoke her mind the majority of the time.
Vara smoothed a finger over the vertical worry line between her brows. “Tell me why I called you when I had two other options.”
“Because I’m the blunt one, and you know I’ll tell it like it is. Subconsciously, that’s what you want tonight for some unknown reason.”
“Is that so? Glad you seem to know my subconscious better than I do.” Brie was right. Sofia was the encourager and cheerleader, Joanna the pragmatist, and Brie…well, yes, she was fun but blunt.
“So give me the goods about Thornton. I’ve only heard the trickled-down version from Joanna and Sofia. Starting with his job. Sofia tried to explain it, but it reminds me of the Friends episode with the contest when the girls lost their apartment to the guys because they couldn’t answer the What is Chandler Bing’s job? question.”
“Thornton makes military prototypes and static models.”
“Well, thanks.” Brie laughed. “That helps.”
The Rolls had slowed to a crawl. “Brie, hang on a second.” Vara glanced out the passenger window, but with the dark tint, it was next to impossible to tell what was happening. They were on the highway, so there must either be an accident or heavy traffic.
Lord, be with them if anyone’s hurt on the road tonight.
Vara knocked and waited for the window to lower. “James, is there a problem?”
“There seems to be some construction up ahead, Miss Alexandris.”
Her brows quirked. “In mid-February?” That made no sense, but at least there wasn’t an accident. Thank you, Jesus. If there were an accident, could she be brave like Thornton and stop to see if anyone needed help? Vara of six months ago might not have considered it. Now? Yes, the Vara of today probably would stop.
“My apologies, Miss Alexandris. I just heard on the radio that there’s a detour for an emergency overpass repair, and the traffic is slowed for the next ten miles. You might want to phone Mr. Fielding to let him know you might be delayed, but I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see how much progress we make in the next ten minutes. Thank you, James.” As she settled on the leather seat again, Vara heard Brie’s soft laughter. “What? You find that funny?”
“I’m sorry, but the chauffeur’s name is James? That’s classic. You sound all lady of the manor. And it reminds me of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she’s in the Rolls and then flies to San Francisco on the private jet for an evening at the opera.”
“I guess it is rather amusing.” Brie certainly liked her movies and television shows. “Getting back to your question, Thornton is trained as a mechanical engineer. He basically makes smaller versions of different kinds of flying machines.”
“Why?” Brie snapped her gum. She went through a lot of gum every week and had since she was a kid.
“For the military, museums, toy companies, department stores, even NASA and The Smithsonian.”
“Okay, that makes more sense. NASA’s pretty cool. So, what’s he look like?”
“I hear he’s on Facebook,” Vara said. “I haven’t looked. He’s very handsome in a rather unconventional way.”
“Uh oh,” Brie said. “That doesn’t sound promising. Good unconventional or weird, geeky, my pet turtle’s my best friend unconventional way?”
Vara laughed. “Not in a pretty boy way. That kind of unconventional.”
“Pretty boys are overrated.” Brie snapped her gum. Annoying habit.
“True. Thornton can be goofy, but that’s part of his charm. When he’s dressed up in a suit, he’s…”
“Sexy?”
“Debonair and distinguished.” Oh yes, Thornton was definitely sexy. She could hardly wait to see him in his tuxedo tonight. But whether barefoot with mussed hair, in his flannel shirt and jeans, or dressed in his business suit, the man could rock any look, as Brie would say. Vara could admit it to herself, but that wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with her baby sister. According to Sofia and Joanna, Brie had enough raging hormones flying around as it was lately.
Arranging the skirt of her gown, Vara fanned it out over the seat and hoped this delay wouldn’t result in a wrinkled gown. Perhaps she should have waited until her arrival in Cherish to change, but Rosalinda and Charlotte had insisted she take it home. They must have been privy to Thornton’s plan to send this luxury car for her. Arriving in a Rolls-Royce at the Cherish library wearing her jeans wouldn’t have been the same. That kind of behavior might be expected from a supermodel, but not Vara Popaloopadis. Goodness, she was giddy.
“Give me a Berklee musician any day over the guys in Cambridge,” Brie said. “Those Harvard boys are too pretty. I hear Thornton’s brainy. Intelligence is sexy.”
“He’s very smart. He has great hair—dark and full—and a nicely trimmed beard. He looks great with it, but it hides a cleft.” Thornton’s image popped into her mind, making her smile. “His eyes are deep brown—wonderfully expressive. When he’s amused, there are these little green flecks that dance around...” She needed to stop. She really was giddy tonight.
“Smoldering, sexy eyes.”
“Brie, you’re too young to talk like that.” Vara suppressed a sigh of exasperation.
“I have hormones, you know. What else? Tall, short, athletic, respectful or all hands?”
“Mom had reservations about you joining that sorority, and I’m inclined to agree.”
“It’s a music society, not a sorority, Vara. What century do you live in? I didn’t ask if he has a nice body. You’ll notice I couched it in subtle, polite terms. Don’t you ever talk about guys with your girlfriends?”
“I don’t make a habit of it, no. Be careful around those musicians. They’re notoriously…bad boys.” That thought struck a chord, a discordant note. “Brie, honey, are you dating anyone?”
“Oh no, you don’t. Did Mom tell you to call me?”
“No. Why?”
“Calling me honey, for one. And don’t even start with the Remember you’re a good Christian girl speech. Just because I’m hanging out with Jagger, and he has a sleeve tattoo, Mom thinks I’m destined for ruin. Christian girls are allowed to have hormones, you know. And date guys with tattoos.”
Vara closed her eyes and held her tongue. The girl found humor in a chauffeur named James but failed to see the irony in dating a wannabe rock star named Jagger? “Just be careful,” she said once her sister finished singing her boyfriend’s praises.
“He says he believes in Jesus.” Poutiness and defensiveness
weighed heavily in Brie’s voice.
“Choose wisely is all I ask. Pay attention and dig beneath the surface gloss.”
“Jag’s deep, Vara. There’s a lot more to him than you might think, and he’s a fantastic performer.”
“If he’s a student at Berklee, then that’s pretty much a given. They don’t choose anyone who doesn’t have great potential.”
“Thanks,” Brie said. “That means a lot.”
“You have an amazing talent, Brie, and I hope you’ll use it for God’s glory. Just be discerning with Jagger or anyone else you date. I’m not saying he’s not the right guy for you, but talk to God, and ask Him to show you the way.”
“Is that what you did with Thornton? I mean, did you pray to God about him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you get an answer?”
“I found my direction, but I’m going to leave it in God’s hands to work out the details.”
“Well, if you love this guy, then I will, too. He sounds really great. Not at all like lizard Daniel or that snake Joanna dated.”
Vara was well aware of Liam’s faults, but she was surprised to hear Brie bring up his name.
“What do you know about Liam?”
Brie snorted. “That guy was such bad news. He made a play for me when he stayed at the house over Christmas that last year he and Jo were together.”
“He what? You were just a child!” Leaning her head on the seat, Vara groaned. “Did you tell Dad?” She wouldn’t ask for specifics. Brie tended to exaggerate and liked to shock others by sometimes being overly graphic. Not that she’d ever lied, to Vara’s knowledge, but Brie had been known to embellish the truth to make a story more dramatic.
“And bring the riot police to the front door and scare all our neighbors? I don’t think so. I was old enough, for the record, but I gave him a piece of my mind before doing the next best thing.”
Vara massaged her brow. “Tony. You called Tony.” Now that she thought about it, that was actually a no-brainer.
Brie giggled. “Tony would have made a great cop, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but he has enough to do keeping all of us in line.”
“Tony drove over to the house and stomped inside. I witnessed the whole thing,” Brie said. “It was awesome. He grabbed Liam by the arm, shoved him out the door with a few Bible verses and told him he’d be praying for his soul. Then he threw Liam’s suitcase on the front lawn, and I mean he tossed that thing like it was as light as a football. It wasn’t zipped, and all of his stuff went flying everywhere. Jo was running around trying to figure out what was happening, crying and picking up his clothes. I felt really bad for her, but look how all that turned out! She’s got Michael now and couldn’t be happier.”
That was one thing they agreed on.
“Hey, Vara? I’ve gotta take off now. Jag’s here, and we’re headed out to a party. Have a great time at the ball, Cinderella.”
“Thanks. Be safe, honey.”
“I will, Mom. See ya later!” The line went dead. With a sigh, Vara returned the cell phone to her purse.
Lord, hold her close.
Brie was the baby, the self-described Hand-Me-Down Girl. Their parents had spent most of their waking hours the past few decades running the family’s restaurant to be able to pay for all the dance lessons, team uniforms, band instruments, and anything else Vara and her brothers and sisters had needed. They’d refinanced the house, sold stock shares, wore old clothing, drove ancient cars, scrimped, saved, and sacrificed, especially to be able to send their youngest child to the private, prestigious university in Boston.
Vara knocked on the window once more. “What’s the good word, James?”
“We’re almost through the detour now, Miss Alexandris. We made decent time, and you should arrive in Cherish in another ten minutes.” She heard the smile in the man’s voice.
“Excellent. Thank you so much.”
Leaning back against the seat, Vara closed her eyes. She’d been to several school proms and college dances, but none could compare to the excitement she felt in this moment.
For the first time in her life, she truly felt like Cinderella going to the ball.
The best part of all? Her Prince Charming was waiting.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Valentine Dance
Cherish, Minnesota
Vara’s eyes widened as she scanned the buffet table. “I have to say, this is the most unique buffet I’ve seen at an otherwise elegant event like this.”
Laura tugged on Ron’s arm. “Since Thornton’s dancing with Charlotte, let’s explain some of the specialties to our big city friend here.” Glancing across the table, she gave Vara a wink.
These two looked so right together—Laura in her deep maroon gown and her handsome blond escort in his black tux with maroon bow tie. He’d announced he was now the Co-Manager at Andrea’s Coffee Shop, and he and Laura already seemed very serious. No one had been surprised, and everyone in town was rooting for the sweet couple.
“The Cherish Diner caters everything for the Valentine Dance,” Ron told her. “Take a sample of everything. The joke is that if you can’t finish it all…”
“Someone else will,” Laura said.
Finishing each other’s sentences already. Cute.
“First, we have jello salad,” Laura told her. Taking the serving spoon, she offered her some of the pink confection.
Vara held up her plate. “Lay it on me. Is there a special significance to this?”
“When people say they’ll bring the salad to pretty much anything around here, what they really mean is they’ll bring the jello,” Ron told her. “The best ones have marshmallows.”
“Well, of course.” Vara moved a bit farther down the food line and took a spoonful of a hot dish. “Tater tot surprise!” She laughed. “I think tater tots are a food group in Minnesota.”
“I’m pretty sure they are.” Ron looked at Laura for confirmation, and she nodded.
“Next is the gravlax,” Laura told her.
Vara’s brows arched. “That sounds like a Dr. Seuss character. I think I can skip it.”
“Ah, come on. Where’s your adventurous spirit?” Ron plopped some on Vara’s plate.
“Isn’t there a law against food dropping on a plate against someone’s will?”
“You’re right. Gravlax does sound like a Dr. Seuss name,” Laura said. “It’s a Nordic dish made of raw, spiced salmon cured in salt, sugar, and dill.”
Vara sniffed the gravlax and then moved down the line. She read the next card. “Walleye? That’s a person with a lazy eye who looks at a wall. Seriously,” she insisted when the couple stared at her. “I heard it at the hospital.”
“Then it must be true. It’s also the name of Minnesota’s state fish.” After helping himself to a healthy portion, Ron dished some onto Laura’s plate. “Here you go.” Against her will—again—he sectioned some onto Vara’s plate. Maybe she should hug her plate closer so he couldn’t reach it. On the other hand, she couldn’t risk spilling food on Charlotte’s gorgeous gown.
“I think you’ll like the walleye,” Laura told her. “It’s eaten every which way you can—battered, fried, smoked.”
Ron grinned. “You can eat it on sandwiches, in soups, stews, and the fish sticks are really good. Next up is the wild rice. They harvest it from the lakes and rivers here.”
Vara felt an arm slip around her waist and Thornton leaned close. “What’d I miss?”
“I hope you come bearing antacids.”
His laughter rang out in the atrium where the food was being served. “In that case, allow me to introduce you to the Juicy Lucy.”
“Should I ask?” Vara watched as Thornton slid into the line beside her. “Sorry for cutting in line, Mrs. Svenson.” He leaned over and kissed the older woman’s cheek.
“Not a problem, Thornton. Good to see you. You’re looking handsome, as always.”
“Have you no shame, Thorny? Cutting in
line in front of an elderly woman.” Vara nudged his arm. “If you weren’t so pretty, they’d never allow you such privileges.”
Shaking his head, Thornton proceeded to slice a burger in two. “Vara, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of these babies.”
“Is that cheese oozing out of the middle?”
“Sure is.” He added half the burger to her plate and put the remaining half on his plate. Across the table, Laura and Ron did the same. “That’s the claim to fame. A simple concept that’s oh so good.”
Thornton’s delivery of that line, accompanied by a head tilt and spoken like an announcer, made Vara laugh. She hadn’t stopped smiling most of the night. In fact, her mouth was starting to ache from the constant stretching of her lips.
“I wasn’t joking about the antacids,” she teased.
He grinned. “I’ve got some in my pocket. Comes with the territory. Now, the Juicy Lucy was invented by one of two guys from South Minneapolis restaurants—Matt’s Bar and the 5-8 Club.”
“They can’t decide which one?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “It’s a case of boys will be boys. They both claim inventor’s rights. We’re going to scoot for now. We’ll see you two at the table.”
“Sure thing. We’ll be right there.” Thornton stole a kiss on her cheek. “Next up, the pasties.”
Vara coughed. “Oh, dear goodness. I won’t ask, but I’m assuming it’s something for the Juicy Lucy.”
“Such a witty girl you are, Miss Pumplestiltskin. Okay, here you go.” Thornton added the baked pastry to her plate.
“That doesn’t look too bad.” She sniffed. “Doesn’t smell horrible, either.”
“It’s a traditional baked pastry filled with meat and vegetables believed to have been brought to Minnesota by the residents of Cornwall and then adopted by Finnish immigrants who worked in the Iron Range mines. Sometimes they have a huge vat of booyah here, but I guess they decided to forego it this year.”
“Booyah?” Vara shook her head. “Where do these names come from?”
“That one’s reputed to be a phonetic rendering of the French word bouillon since it’s from an area settled by the Belgians. Booyah can take up to two days and multiple cooks to prepare. It’s served at church picnics, county fairs, and down at the good old VFW.”
