Dating, Dining, and Desperation (A Dear Daphne Novel)

by Carlson, Melody

  “Oh.” Daphne nodded. “Right.”

  “They’re a little spendy, but being able to use them again helps to offset the cost. Don’t you think?”

  Daphne had to bite her tongue to keep from saying what she really thought—that the dress was absolutely hideous and she would look like death warmed over in that color. “And you’re certain this dress design will look good on all your bridesmaids?”

  “Oh yes. And the reason I needed to nail this down with you today is because Monday is the final day for placing orders. You’ll have to go in to Frederica’s tomorrow to be measured. You can do that, can’t you? I mean since you don’t have a real job.”

  “Sure,” she said quietly. “I can do that.”

  “And tell her your shoe size too.” Karen flipped to the next page. “I think these will be just perfect with the dresses.”

  Daphne stared at the plain-looking satin pumps. The heels were low and the toes were rounded. They looked like something her Aunt Dee might’ve worn.

  “Naturally, they’ll be dyed to match the dresses.”

  “Naturally.” Daphne gave her another stiff smile.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you want to be part of this.” Karen beamed at her. And suddenly she was telling Daphne about the shower her sister was planning and the bridesmaid party for when they tried on their dresses. “And, of course, we have the bachelorette party.” Karen winked at Dad. “My sister Diane has already lined up some really great surprises for me on that night.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Daphne glanced at Dad, who was obliviously watching someone teeing off outside as Karen continued flipping through her thick book.

  “My niece Kenzie made this notebook for me. She’s been helping with all the plans. She’s only twenty-six, but she just started a new wedding planning business in town. Maybe you’ve seen her ads in the paper. Weddings 4 Hire. She uses the numeral four instead of the word.”

  “Clever.” Daphne nodded.

  “First time I saw the ad, I thought of gun for hire,” Dad admitted. “I asked Kenzie if she’d ever planned a shotgun wedding, and for some reason she didn’t think that was too funny.” He chuckled.

  “Not everyone has your highly developed sense of humor, Dad.”

  “Thank goodness.” Karen laughed.

  “Well, if that’s that.” Daphne set her linen napkin next to her plate. “I think I’ll excuse myself. I haven’t been home since before church, and I suspect my kitties are missing me by now.”

  Karen and Dad exchanged worried glances. As if they were still concerned that she was turning into some kind of social misfit.

  “I hope to get my novel finished. Before all the wedding activities start happening.”

  “Then you better hurry,” Karen said. “The first fitting is in a couple of weeks. And according to my sister, the shower is less than a month from now. I gave Diane your address and phone number. She said she might invite the bridesmaids to help out with some things. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Daphne forced another smile. “Not at all.” Then feeling more desperate and driven than ever, she hurried out of there and drove directly home. It felt as if her dad’s wedding was suddenly encroaching on her novel—not to mention her life! A part of her realized this was not normal thinking. After all, it wasn’t as if she had a life. Or much of one. Not only that, but in all honesty, she had no deadline for her book. Not like she did with the advice column. But just sitting there and listening to all that wedding talk had reminded her of how badly she wanted to make this book a success. And if she could do that, she would finally be free from jumping through the hoops of Aunt Dee’s will. As she went into her office she wondered—what would Aunt Dee say about all this?

  Dear Daphne,

  This question isn’t exactly about my love life. Or maybe it is. My main problem is that my father is remarrying, and I am feeling out of sorts about the whole thing. It’s not so much that I dislike my stepmother-to-be. I don’t really know her. However, I do resent the expectation that just because it’s my dad’s wedding, I must be involved. Is it fair for them to pull me into their wedding festivities against my will? Or am I just being selfish? Or even worse, maybe I’m envious. Especially considering that I’m thirty-four and have never had a wedding of my own. Am I having wedding envy? If so, what should I do?

  Annoyed in Appleton

  Dear Annoyed,

  It’s understandable that you’re feeling unsettled over your father’s upcoming nuptials. It is clearly stirring up a lot emotions for you. But perhaps you are looking at this from the wrong angle. Maybe you should ask yourself: Is your father happy? And if he’s happy, shouldn’t you be happy for him? Shouldn’t you be willing to celebrate this special day with him? Also, his decision to take the plunge (marriage) might be challenging your own choices. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself if there is some deep-down reason you’re not married. Maybe it’s time you got more honest with yourself regarding the answer.

  Daphne

  If Daphne was annoyed before she wrote those silly letters, she was even more annoyed as she hit the delete button on them now. Seriously, Dear Daphne clearly did not know what she was talking about! Instead of wasting precious time writing silly letters, she should be working on her suspense novel. After all, she had power and control over everything that happened in her fictional world. If a character was aggravating her, she could simply have her knocked off.

  Whether it was to escape her own pathetic past and present or her desperate attempt to press toward her future, Daphne wrote furiously for the next week. And by midday on Thursday, she could actually see a light at the end of her book tunnel. Many of the mysterious threads were magically weaving themselves together—promising a satisfying ending. And unless she was mistaken, this novel would be finished in just a couple of chapters. Although she couldn’t say for certain it was good—she had a feeling it might be. And, after doing some research she decided that if Aunt Dee’s publishing house, or any other traditional houses, declined to contract her book, she might take it directly to the Internet and publish it there herself. She’d been hearing good things about authors who’d gone that route. Maybe it could work for her. Anyway, it was worth a shot.

  It was barely three when she called it a day. She was just turning off her computer when the phone rang. It was Sabrina and she sounded slightly frantic. “Oh, Daphne, I hope I’m not disturbing you. I know you’re probably in the middle of a big scene in your novel, but I just couldn’t wait. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. I was just shutting it down.” Daphne felt slightly guilty as she remembered how she’d chided Sabrina before for calling in the middle of the afternoon a while back. “What’s up?”

  “I want you to go to Fairview with me tomorrow. Can you get away?”

  “Oh . . . I don’t know.” Daphne looked around her cluttered and dusty office. “I had really planned to do some housework tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ve let things go around here. And it’s getting pretty bad.”

  “Please, Daphne. You’ve barely been out of the house for nearly a month now. Just come to Fairview with me tomorrow, okay?”

  “Why? What’s the urgency?”

  “I really, really need you to help me pick out a new sofa. That one I brought with me from Atlanta is taking up way too much space in my tiny living room. I’ve got to scale down. And you have such a good eye for furnishings. Please, come and help me?”

  “I don’t know. I really need to get some clean—”

  “Please, Daphne. I’ll drive and I’ll treat you to lunch. And I won’t even take Tootsie along if you’ll just come with me. Just this once. I’ll help you clean house in repayment if you like.”

  Daphne ran her finger over the desktop, creating a trail through the dust. “Well, okay. Not that I’ll let you come clean for me. But when you sound so desperate—how can I refuse? Besides I still owe you one
for the day you helped with my makeover.” Daphne cringed to look down at her grubby sweats, running her fingers through hair that was in need of some serious help. Fortunately Sabrina couldn’t see her right now.

  “Fabulous! Let’s leave around noon, okay? We’ll have lunch first. That way we’ll be fortified for the rest of the day.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Girls’ day out,” Sabrina chirped happily.

  As Daphne hung up the phone, a small figure in the front yard caught her eye. She peered out the window to see a child bending down to scoop up a big orange cat. Blinking in surprise Daphne looked again—the cat was Lucy and now it appeared as if the child was carting the poor thing away.

  “My goodness!” Daphne hurried to find her shoes and then dashed out the front door to stop the catnapping juvenile. She spotted them several houses down. That child was making good time.

  Daphne jogged to catch up and then fell into step next to what turned out to be a very scruffy-looking little girl. She didn’t appear to be more than six or seven. “Hello there,” Daphne said curiously.

  The girl looked up with big brown eyes and a dirty face. “Hello?”

  “Where are you taking that cat?”

  “Home,” she answered nonchalantly, as if accustomed to stealing cats on a regular basis.

  “But why are you taking it?”

  “Because he’s my friend and he wants to go home with me.”

  Daphne placed a hand on the girl’s thin shoulder. “Maybe you’ve confused this cat with another cat. This cat’s name is Lucy and she belongs to me.”

  The girl looked worried now. “Oh?”

  “Here.” Daphne reached down to rescue Lucy from the catnapper’s arms. “I’ll take her for you.”

  The girl reluctantly released the cat, then shoved her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans in a dejected way. “I just wanted a cat,” she said quietly. “To be my friend. I didn’t know he . . . I mean, she belonged to someone else.”

  Daphne studied the girl. Her dark brown hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks and her thin blue T-shirt was dirty and torn. “It’s okay. I’m sure Lucy enjoyed the attention. Where do you live anyway?”

  “That blue house.” The girl pointed to a run-down house with an overgrown yard.

  “Have you lived there long?”

  “No. It’s my grandma’s house. I came to stay with her so I could go to school.”

  “What’s your grandma’s name?”

  The girl frowned. “Why? Are you gonna tell on me?”

  “No, not at all. I was just curious.” Daphne smiled. “I’m Daphne by the way. And I live in the house where you picked up Lucy. I have another cat too. Her name is Ethel and she would be brokenhearted if she lost Lucy. Lucy is her best friend.”

  “I wish I had a best friend.”

  “Do you know any kids in this neighborhood?” Daphne looked up and down the street, trying to remember if anyone around here had young children.

  “Not really. Except for stupid old Roland and he throws dirt clods at me whenever I walk past his house.”

  “That’s not very friendly.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s your name?” Daphne asked.

  The girl’s brow furrowed as if she just remembered something. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  Daphne laughed. “A little late for that, don’t you think? But in general, it’s probably a good rule. However, since you were caught taking my cat, I think it’s okay to talk to me. But if you like I could meet your grandmother first.”

  “No . . . she’s sick.”

  “She’s sick?” Daphne frowned at the sad-looking blue house.

  “Yeah, she has to stay in bed a lot.”

  “I’m sorry.” Daphne looked down at the girl. “Who takes care of you?”

  Her bony shoulders shrugged. “I take care of myself.”

  “Oh . . . I see.”

  “Sorry about taking your cat.”

  “That’s okay.” Daphne petted Lucy who seemed content to be held like this.

  “My name is Mabel Myers,” the girl said quietly.

  “Mabel Myers?” Daphne nodded. “Well, that is a nice name.”

  “Daphne is a nice name too.” Mabel smiled shyly.

  “Hey, Mabel. Do you like pumpkins?”

  Mabel’s eyes grew wide. “You mean like for jack-o’-lanterns?”

  “Yes. I have a garden that’s got lots of pumpkins. And I was going to take some of them and put them on my porch. Maybe you’d like to help me.”

  “Can I?”

  “Sure. If it’s okay with your grandma. And if you help me, I can repay you with a nice big pumpkin to put on your own porch.”

  “My own pumpkin?”

  “Yes. Maybe you’ll want more than one. But first I need to talk to your grandma and make sure she doesn’t mind.”

  Mabel frowned. “But she might be sleeping.”

  “How about if you go find out?” Daphne looked down at Lucy. “I’ll take Lucy home, then come back to check on you. If your grandma is awake and says it’s all right, you can come back and help me. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Mabel nodded eagerly.

  Daphne ran Lucy back home. What on earth was she getting herself into? Yet at the same time she felt so sorry for little Mabel, she couldn’t let her down. What was her situation? And what was wrong with the grandma?

  When Daphne got back to Mabel’s house, the front door was ajar. “Hello?” Daphne called into the house. “Mabel?”

  When no one answered, Daphne pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. The first thing that hit her was the smell. Stale and musty and dirty. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness due to the closed drapes, she could see that the room was cluttered and messy. Indeed, it did seem as if the occupants here must be sick to let it get into this dilapidated condition.

  “Mabel?” Daphne called out quietly. “Are you—?”

  “That’s her right there,” Mabel announced as she led a frail-looking woman into the living room. “See, Grandma? That’s the lady who’s going to let me have a pumpkin if you say it’s okay. That’s Daphne.”

  “Hello,” Daphne said uncomfortably. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.” She quickly explained the situation and where she lived and about her garden.

  “Dee Ballinger’s house?” the woman questioned.

  Daphne explained about being Dee’s niece. “Well, actually I’m her granddaughter, but it’s a long story.”

  “Can I go with her?” Mabel asked eagerly.

  “Yes . . . that’s fine.”

  “I can write down my phone number if you like,” Daphne offered.

  The woman raised her hand. “That’s all right. I’m not worried about Mabel.”

  “Can I get your name?” Daphne asked. “I mean since we’re neighbors and all.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m Vera. Vera Myers.” She waved her hand toward her raggedy bathrobe. “As you can see, I, uh, I have been sick. Probably shouldn’t have offered to keep Mabel.” She put her hand on Mabel’s head. “But I’m all she has now.”

  “Can we go now, Grandma?” Mabel asked impatiently.

  “Yes, yes. Go.” Vera looked at Daphne with sad eyes. “Thank you.”

  As they left, Daphne was filled with questions . . . about Vera and Mabel and what seemed a rather sad and desperate situation. But seeing how happy Mabel was to be out of there and looking forward to gathering pumpkins, Daphne held back on questioning her too much.

  Soon they were cutting the pumpkin stems, loading them into the wheelbarrow where Mabel used a bucket of water and a rag to wash the dirt off the pumpkins. Then they lined pumpkins up and down both sides of the stairs leading to the porch, as well as beside the door.

  “That
looks so pretty,” Mabel declared as they stood back to admire their work. “Do lots of trick-or-treaters come to your house?”

  “I don’t really know,” Daphne admitted. “I haven’t been here for Halloween in years.”

  “My other house—where I lived with my mom—we didn’t get any trick-or-treaters there.”

  “Did you go trick-or-treating?”

  “No . . . Mom wouldn’t let me.”

  “Well, some people think it’s not safe sending children out like that . . . going up to stranger’s doors. But Appleton is a pretty small town. I’m guessing there’s still a lot of trick-or-treating going on around here. I’ll be sure to have candy on hand.”

  Mabel’s eyes lit up. “Maybe Grandma will let me go trick-or-treating.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seven. Almost eight. I’ll be eight in December.”

  “What grade are you?”

  “Second.” She scowled. “They tried to make me be in first grade again . . . ’cuz I missed so much school when I lived with my mama. But I can read real good. So they let me go in second.”

  “Do you like to read?”

  “Yeah. I love to read.”

  “Maybe you’ll want to borrow books from here.” Daphne pointed toward the house. “My aunt had a good collection of books I used to read when I was your age.”

  “I thought you said she was your grandma.”

  “She was kind of an aunt and grandma. You know?”

  “Yeah.” Mabel nodded as if she understood.

  “You worked really hard,” Daphne said. “Maybe you’d like a snack before you go home.”

  Mabel’s eyes lit up. “Inside your house?”

  “Sure, come on in. We’ll see what we can rustle up.” Daphne looked down at Mabel’s muddy tennis shoes. “But we’ll leave our shoes on the porch, okay?”

  “This is a real pretty house,” Mabel said as they went inside.

  “There’s a bathroom right there.” Daphne pointed to the powder room. “Go and get those hands nice and clean and I’ll see what we can have for a snack.”