Part 15 (1/2)
”We'll work on that.” Samantha sobered. ”You know, I've got to admit I'm surprised you're willing to do this.”
”Oh? Why?”
”Well, for one thing, it's silly.”
”It's also fun and I'll enjoy watching those men jump through whatever hoops Cecily dreams up. And I a.s.sume there'll be chocolate in it for me, right?”
”Absolutely.”
”Then call me Your Honor.”
Well, that was easy, Samantha mused as she left. In fact, other than the frustration of not knowing where those permits were in the tangle of city hall red tape, plans for the festival were coming along nicely. What should have required months was falling into place in record time, thanks to an entire town full of enthusiastic volunteers. And things like that just didn't happen except in books and movies.
So, when was the other shoe going to drop?
Cecily started a buzz in the grocery store when she stopped by to put up a poster for the Mr. Dreamy contest on the community bulletin board.
”How fun!” exclaimed Lauren Belgado, who had ducked in on her coffee break. ”And, oh, my gosh, look at the stuff the winner gets. I'm so nominating Joe.”
Her boyfriend, Joe Coyote, had a nice face and a nice build. Due to a scar on his face and a limp (a souvenir from a construction accident) Cecily wasn't sure he could compete against some of the better-looking men in town. Still, if a man could win on heart alone, the prize was Joe's.
Now another woman had come over. ”Oh, wow, I read about this in the paper. I'm going to pick up an entry form. If my boyfriend wins, we can take that wine tour.”
”What all do the guys have to do?” asked Lauren. ”Is there, like, a talent compet.i.tion? Joe's kind of shy.”
”No talent.”
”Then what do they have to do?” the other woman asked.
”Oh, we'll have some questions for them to answer, like what their favorite Sweet Dreams candy is.”
”Research,” Lauren said happily, making Cecily wish her sister was present to hear this conversation. ”What else?”
”Nothing too hard,” Cecily a.s.sured her. ”Probably walk out on stage without their s.h.i.+rts.”
The women giggled.
”Dumb,” a deep voice said behind Cecily.
She turned to see that Todd Black had emerged from his man cave to purchase sustenance for the Neanderthals. If you could call a grocery cart filled with soft drinks and pretzels sustenance. The first thought that came to mind was There's our first Mr. Dreamy.
She quickly squelched it. She didn't know Todd Black's educational background, but wherever he went to school he must have majored in obnoxious behavior. ”No dumber than the Miss America Pageant,” she said.
”True,” he agreed in a tone of voice that told her what he thought of that compet.i.tion.
”Or the Victoria's Secret special,” she said sweetly, determined to strip off his P.C. camouflage and reveal that he was just as superficial as any other man.
He didn't disappoint her. ”That's worth watching,” he said with a grin.
Now two more women were eavesdropping and she felt the need to put him in his place. Diplomatically, of course. ”Not to us,” she told him. ”And that's why we're having a Mr. Dreamy contest. Since women are the ones who like chocolate-”
”Guys like chocolate, too. Remember?” he said.
”Just not chocolate festivals.”
”Have a Miss Chocolate Kiss compet.i.tion. I'll come,” he said. ”I'll even vote for you,” he added with a wink, and wheeled his cart out the door.
”My G.o.d, he's gorgeous,” one woman breathed.
”Better than chocolate,” another said.
”Nothing is better than chocolate,” Cecily informed them even as her traitorous hormones muttered that she'd sell off all the stock in the Sweet Dreams warehouse for a night with him.
Fortunately, her brain was in charge now. Her hormones had proved they couldn't be trusted.
Oh, but she was willing to bet he was an exceptional kisser.
Lots of practice, said her brain. Leave him in his man cave where he belongs.
Good idea.
Muriel had meant to get dressed, she really had. But somehow the day had gotten away from her. Now the doorbell was ringing and she was in the living room in her pajamas.
She wouldn't answer. The drapes were drawn. She could just hide in here until whoever was pestering her went away.
But then she heard voices and a key in the front door lock and she had to find a new hiding place. She scurried down the hall to her bedroom and shut the door.
A moment later Cecily's voice drifted down the hall to her. ”She's home and I'm sure she'll want to see you.”
No, she wouldn't, whoever it was. She slipped into the bathroom and shut that door, too, putting another barrier between herself and the world.
She heard a knock on the bedroom door, then, ”Mom?” followed by tentative tapping on the bathroom door. ”Mom, Pat's here.”
”Tell her I'll call her later,” Muriel said. ”I'm not feeling well.” That was certainly no lie.
”Okay.”
She sounded disappointed, like Muriel had failed some sort of test. This was hardly surprising. She seemed to be failing all kinds of tests lately.
Pat was a good friend. It would be rude not to see her. Reluctantly, Muriel opened the door and said, ”Never mind.”
Cecily looked at her in surprise. ”I thought you didn't feel good.”
She wasn't sure she'd ever feel good again. She wasn't sure she'd ever feel again. But she was still here and she had to interact with people. That was how life worked, or at least how it was supposed to work.