Marcus came out of the kitchen, carrying two cups of steaming tea. “This might help. The pan is ruined, but not the stove burner.”
“Thank you,” Francie said, catching his stare. Her gaze dropped to his lips.
“It was a close call.”
The fire or their kiss? she wondered.
***
Weeks had gone by and still Marcus couldn’t get the memory of that passionate embrace out of his head. She’d haunted him every second of the day. If he didn’t catch a glimpse of her at work, he’d make sure he checked with Peg on how the boutique was fairing, or he’d casually stroll by and see Francie with a customer. Anything just to know a little piece of information about her.
At meetings, she kept her distance, reporting the basics. He studied her profile mostly, sensing her awareness of him. And his admiration for her grew with each passing managers’ meeting. She’d found a way to include them, each department, spotlight them one at a time, and allowed them to share in each small success of the new wedding boutique. She’d done the impossible. She’d gained their respect.
So why was he so disappointed she was keeping to her side of their bargain?
Now, he scolded himself. He had work to do. He had to concentrate. It was only two days before Black Friday. Sales would determine how much longer King’s could carry on.
Walking through the men’s department, he noticed Priscilla dressing a mannequin.
“Like it?” she asked, standing back with her hands on her hips. “I thought the jean jacket would be just the right touch—classic, but inexpensive.”
He nodded. “I hear you’re good at this.” The men’s department manager sang her praises. She knew when to turn on the charm and when to back off, never overriding the customer. She assisted wives and girlfriends with the perfect item and challenged the tried and true styles of some of the men to get them to venture out.
On the other hand, he’d heard of her dodging shifts and her chatterbox ways. That could turn into a problem, bigger than the slight annoyance it was at the moment.
She shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. Nothing earthshattering.”
“Ah, thrill seeker, are you?” He smiled, thinking she was the opposite of Francie.
“Bored, mostly.” She cringed. “Sorry, Boss, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Marcus chuckled. “I like your honesty. So come up with a plan and bring it to me. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Really?” Her eyes danced. “I like the make-overs. The ad campaigns, too. I even like to help set up the window displays, especially adding the pieces each week to the mystery wedding display after the customers’ final votes are tallied up.” Her excitement bubbled over.
She was a King. In spite of her inexperience, she deserved a chance to find out what she loved to do in the store. Of course, as long as it was still around, he thought. “Take the weekend to figure it out and come see me Monday morning. Just let Peg know; she’ll fit it into my schedule.”
“Yikes! Wow, I can’t wait. Now, what am I going to do?” She seemed to be talking to herself, so he waved and headed to the next department.
With each department he visited on the first floor, he drew one step closer to the boutique. Marcus’ gut tightened. Was she there?
“Hey, Boss,” Rico cried out, grabbing his arm. “You’re looking mighty spiffy today, if I do say so. Navy blue suit, nice light blue shirt, ummm, I even like that silk tie. You got it going on.”
“Thanks, Rico,” he said. “Nice to know I have your expert approval.”
“But you could spice things up a bit.” He flicked a finger at the tie. “You know, a little print, subtle stripe. Just a hint. Oh, and you must, must include a silk hanky in your top pocket.” He tapped Marcus’ shoulder near the mentioned spot.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” he said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “I see you’re into details.” He nodded to the interior of the boutique. “Francine said you helped with the design.”
Rico fluffed his short hair. “Well, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it, right?”
“Good job.”
The man grinned from ear to ear.
“You all alone?” Marcus asked, trying to not sound anxious. Would he be able to see her today, talk to her?
“Francie’s finishing up with an order. And Evelyn’s updating the website. People just love it. Great idea to bring King’s into the real world with a website and online ordering. Bravo, Marcus!” He clapped his hands.
“Did I hear my name?” Francine asked, hanging up the phone and coming to the front of the boutique. Her steps faltered. “Marcus, I didn’t know you were here.”
He drank up the sight of her. “Last-minute check on everyone. Ready for Friday?”
“Yes. Although, we’re not sure what to expect here, since we’re new. But we’ll pitch in where we’re needed.”
“Speak for yourself, Francie,” Rico said with a smile in his voice and pranced off. “Lunch time. I’ll bring you back your usual salad. Want anything, Marcus?”
Her. To Rico, he said, “No thanks. Executive lunch powwow,” he checked his watch, “in less than an hour.”
They were alone, except for Evelyn pecking away in the background on the computer. Francine pointed to a spot behind her. “Giving the boutique its own blog has been great for added sales. It’s drawn in a lot of interest. Evelyn’s a whiz when it comes to all the technological things.”
“So I’ve heard. But you are the creative genius behind it all. Tie-ins. I like the customer involvement. Voting on the rings. Shoes. What’s next?”
“Bridesmaids dresses. That kicks off Friday. Everyone seems to have an opinion and likes to voice them.”
If he just reached out, he could brush back that sweep of honey blonde hair, feel the silky tresses again. He cleared his throat. “Not the wedding dress?”
Shaking her head, she flushed. “I’m having Charlie design it. A mystery wedding dress for a mystery wedding.”
He smiled. “I like it. No hints? Mermaid, princess, sweetheart neckline, lace, taffeta, crinoline, beads, crystals… hmm, what else…”
Her giggle made his middle coil. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about wedding dresses. From your mother’s weddings?”
Running his hand through his hair, he said, “No, I just paid for them. It’s from the blog,” he admitted sheepishly. He’d monitored it for work. At least that’s what he convinced himself of each time he logged on.
“I’m impressed,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his.
“Not as impressed as I am with you.” He spoke without thinking, something he never did. Strange how she turned his world upside down. None of his tried and true rules survived with her.
“Boss, Boss,” Peg’s voice cried out as she rushed into the boutique, her ever present clipboard clutched in one hand. “Thank goodness I caught you.” She halted in front of him, shoving his cell phone at him. “Call. Some electrician, can’t get the wiring you need for the cooking demo for you and Dolly.”
Marcus cursed. Everything depended on that. Grabbing the phone, he barked into it, “Goode here. What seems to be the problem?”
The garbled male voice on the other line didn’t make sense.
“Whoa, you’re fading in and out. Hold on.” Marcus walked out of the boutique and near the jewelry department. “Go ahead.”
The line crackled, but he made out the guy’s voice. “Mr. Goode, the warehouse is out of the wire. I’m checking around now to another supplier. But this is another setback. If we do get it, we’ll be working through the night to get this done. Midnight deadline, too. Union says we get paid time and a half for the holiday.”
“Thanksgiving,” Marcus said under his breath. “When will you know?”
“Everyone’s checked out for lunch. Maybe an hour or two.”
“Call me when you know something. Either way.” Marcus hung up and gripped the phone. Setbacks. Deadlines. He’d been dealing with one afte
r the other all week with these guys. Everything counted on the cooking demo going off without a hitch. But it seemed like one glitch led to another. What else could go wrong?
“Here, Boss, let me take that,” Peg said, easing the instrument from his clutched hand. He released it, discovering he’d wanted to throw it. Peg knew him so well. “While I’m here, I’m just gonna check out the place.” She nodded toward the boutique. “Hey, Francie,” she said, walking past her, “love the displays. Look at those shoes! High, sparkly, to die for!”
Francine chuckled. “She’s priceless, isn’t she?”
Marcus let out a pent-up breath. His troubles took a backseat to her smile. “How are you?”
He wanted to know about her. What she thought about, what she felt, what she cared about?
“We’re doing mostly fill-in work, finding just the right pieces to pull together what the brides have already started. But we’ve had several more complete weddings. One middle-aged couple with adult children on their second marriage. Small, elegant affair. She’s so busy working that she just needed help with the arrangements. And the dress. Tea length, champagne. We found it hidden in our wedding dress department.”
She lit up. Her smile widened and her blue eyes sparkled. Captivating.
“Another one. Younger couple. They don’t have any family to speak of. She’s expecting. Last-minute wedding. They were just going to run off to the justice of the peace. But…we could do better than that.”
“Yes. The chapel.” He’d heard how Francie had arranged it— quaint, meaningful, not a dry eye in the place. “You attended all of them.” It wasn’t a question.
She shrugged. “So far. The least I could do. Rico and Evelyn come when they can.”
His heart hitched. It wasn’t the boutique or items she could sell that interested her, not really. It was the people. “You’re a lot like your father.”
Pulling back, she shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“You care. You want the customers to be happy.”
“Well, who wouldn’t? A wedding should be the happiest day of your life. The beginning of a new adventure for two people. The excitement. The heady anticipation. The love. Anything’s possible.”
“Anything?” That hadn’t been in the realm of his experiences—more accurately, his mother’s. Somehow Francie made it seem almost possible, though.
***
Francine King gazed at him, seeing her excitement mirrored in his green gaze. “Yes, Marcus, anything at all,” she whispered.
It had happened to her mother when she’d married Charles King. Francine would never forget that magical day. The woman had shed her critical nature. The giddiness at her dream wedding and marrying the man of her dreams had wrought the most shocking and unexpected changes in her stern, no-nonsense behavior. It was as if someone had turned a switch inside Francie’s mother.
It might have even been the first time Francine had seen her smile, a real genuine smile that transformed her whole face.
Nothing had fazed her, nothing had made her cross, even when Francine had asked about Charlie, her new stepsister she’d never met. Her mother had brushed it aside, saying they’d meet her the next day.
She drifted back to how lovely her mother looked in the cream-colored dress, her father so handsome in his dark suit. The scent of gardenias filled the air. And she and Priscilla had the most expensive, exquisite dresses she’d ever seen before.
But it was the joy that filled Francie then that she’d held onto all these years. “Weddings are a time to celebrate—”
“Love,” he interrupted.
This time she didn’t sense any sarcasm in him. “I’m gushing,” she said, feeling the warmth across her cheeks.
“Yes, you are.” He hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “Don’t lose that about you. That’s the allure for our customers. Your enthusiasm, it’s contagious. Maybe we can’t bottle it up and sell it, but, that’s why we have you. You are creating a moment in time they will never forget.”
His voice grew low and tickled her senses.
Bravely, she gazed up into his eyes. “A moment in time,” she whispered, knowing she would hold onto this moment. “Forever.”
“No, nothing’s forever, Francie.”
Was he warning her? Why couldn’t love last?
Chapter 10
With a deep sigh, she watched him walk away. Tall, broad shoulders, and commanding air… Impressive.
It was too bad the women’s department manager had interrupted. Marcus had another fire to put out.
Francie turned away and went back into the cozy boutique. A phone nearby rang, startling her. When the second ring blared, she’d spotted the cell phone on the couch. It sounded again. She poked a finger at it, trying to recall how Evelyn answered hers. “Hello,” she said, bending to speak at it.
“Is this Marcus’ assistant, Peg?”
Francine recognized the older woman’s voice instantly. “Mrs. Reed.” Gingerly, she picked up the foreign object and held it to her ear. “This is Francine King. Remember, we met a few weeks ago. Are you calling Peg?”
“Oh, no, I’m trying to get in touch with Marcus. This is his phone number, isn’t it?”
Holding it away from her, she inspected the sleek, black instrument. It must be his. That’s right; he’d handed it to Peg, who must have left it here before she rushed off a second ago. “Yes, yes,” she said, attempting to reassure his mother. “He left his phone here. I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment.”
“Francine, you said? I recall you. Oh dear, you’ll never believe what happened.”
She gulped hard. “You didn’t fall again, did you?”
“Worse.”
“Worse?”
“Yes, he left me. Wilbur left me for a younger woman.”
Francie dropped into a nearby chair. “He seemed so interested.” Well, that was before he sat down and fell asleep.
“My hip. I couldn’t do the things he wanted me to.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Francie prayed this wasn’t a sex talk.
“First it was a walk in the hallway. Well, he didn’t like pushing my wheelchair. Then I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t maneuver the walker. He got upset when I couldn’t dance with him. You’d think he’d realize how difficult it is. He found that woman! She wears red lipstick, even when she sleeps,” she whispered the last, “and low-cut, tight sweaters. Hussy!”
At a loss, she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry. He wasn’t that into you. You don’t want someone like that, do you?”
Soft cries filled her ears now. “I’m old. No one will have me.”
Tears smarted Francie’s eyes. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sure the right man is out there.” How old was she anyway? And wouldn’t Marcus be mad at her for giving his mother false hope? Wasn’t five marriages enough?
“I’m so lonely. Won’t you come visit me again?”
“Of course, I will.” She ran through her jam-packed schedule this afternoon and into the night. “Tomorrow’s the holiday. I’m having dinner with my family, but, later, I could come see you. Would that be all right with you?”
“Oh, you don’t know how happy that makes me feel! Us girls have to stick together. You can tell me about the weddings. The boutique. I’d love to hear the details.”
This seemed to have cheered her up, so Francie agreed.
“That’s my physical therapist. I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, dear.”
The phone clicked dead. Francie held it away from her and wondered what to do with Marcus’ cell phone now.
She scrolled through the screen like she’d seen Evelyn doing. Names of women, lots of them, rushed by. Her middle sank. Big mistake!
***
Walking through the bustling hallway of the rehabilitation center the next night, Francie let warmth seep into her chilled body. The plate of desserts she carried kept her from shoving her hands in her pockets on the taxi cab ride over and now her f
ingers prickled with the circulation returning.
She greeted the young nurse who rushed past to catch a woman in a wheelchair scooting out the door. “Runaway,” the nurse cried into her walkie-talkie. “I knew the sugar rush from all the goodies would hit!”
Francie dashed out of the way and down the hall. Some of the residents were visiting with family in the common area. The buzz of voices hummed in the air. Retracing her steps from her last visit, she soon found Mrs. Reed’s room, and then knocked softly on the open door.
“Come in, dear, I’ll just be a minute,” Mrs. Reed said, and then she spoke into the phone receiver. “I have it right here, sweetheart.” Francie noted the large, gold watch she held. “Yes, I forgot to give it back to you before you left. Thank you for such a lovely day. Sweet dreams.” Gingerly, she returned the phone to its cradle.
Who was that? Francie wondered.
“Honey, it’s so good to see you,” Marcus’ mother cried out as she sat in a high back chair near the window. Her smile eased Francie’s fears. Maybe his mother was over the worst of her breakup.
“I brought you some treats,” she said, holding up the covered plate. “I hope you can have some.”
“I’d love some.” She laid a finger against her lips. “But don’t tell. They like to restrict our sugar intake.”
Francine already had seen the evidence of why the staff encouraged that restriction. “It’ll be our secret. You don’t tell and I won’t tell, deal?”
“Deal. Now, come sit beside me.” She patted the arm of the chair facing hers, the one Wilbur had dozed off in during the last visit.
She made quick work of handing over the goodies and shrugging off her coat. Laying it on the end of the bed, she joined Marcus’ mother. “Did you have a nice holiday?”
“Yes, my sweet boy cooked for all of us.”
“The entire center?”
“And then some. He made sure there was enough for the family members, also. Ah, he’s so generous. Always so good hearted.” She leaned close. “He gets that from me.”
Waking Sleeping Beauty (Book 2, Once Upon A Romance Series) Page 8
