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She moved into the closet. “Your date is on Tuesday, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he'll probably be coming from work. Which means a suit. I think you should wear a dress. That's my mother's training coming out, by the way.” She raised her voice to a slightly higher pitch. “A man likes to see a woman in a dress.”

Violet knew she had plenty of experience when it came to the likes and dislikes of the average male but didn't think it was helpful when it came to things like dating this particular kind of guy. This wasn't her world. Who was she trying to kid?

Jenna pulled out three or four dresses. “Why don't you try these.”

The top one was a short-sleeved cotton dress in dove gray. The bodice had tight horizontal ruffles with some banding at the waist. The skirt had wider ruffles.

Not really her style, Violet thought, eyeing the dress doubtfully. She wasn't exactly a ruffle person.

“I have a belt that could go with this,” Jenna said. “It actually looks really great on.”

“Okay. I'll try it.” After all, her goal was to look like someone else.

Jenna handed over the dresses. “Can't wait to see the fashion show.”

She stepped out of the closet and returned to the bedroom. Violet pulled off her black pants, the tank top and lace over-shirt she wore, then stepped out of her boots. She drew the ruffled dress over her head and buttoned the front.

“There's a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door,” Jenna said, pointing, then leading the way.

Violet trailed after her. Once in the huge bathroom, complete with separate shower and massive soaking tub, she closed the door and stared at herself.

The color wasn't bad, she thought, turning back and forth. The fit was great, but the style just wasn't working.

“I look like I'm twelve,” she said.

“It's not quite right,” Jenna agreed. “There's a black dress that should be better. Let me get it.”

She left the bathroom, then returned seconds later. The dress she held looked more fitted. A simple scoop neck, tank straps and a skirt that fell to mid thigh. Some tucking detail on the front gave the shape definition.

“Simple, elegant, silk,” Jenna said holding it out.

Violet's gaze dropped to the tag still attached. “I can't wear that. It's new.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It's your dress. You should wear it first.”

“If we wait for that, a millennium will have passed.” Jenna pushed the dress toward her. “You have to at least try it on.”

Violet took it reluctantly. She didn't have any silk in her wardrobe. It was costly to buy and usually had to be dry-cleaned. Not an expense she needed. But the fabric was whisper soft and the style appealed to her.

After hanging the black dress on the towel rack by the light switch, she unbuttoned the front of the dress she had on and shrugged out of it without even thinking. When she reached for the black dress, she felt more than heard Jenna's surprise. A second too late, Violet remembered that stripping down to a thong and bra in front of her boss probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Jenna stood slightly behind her, so she had a full view of
the delicate scrollwork on the small of her back and the roses between her shoulder blades. Chinese characters trailed along her left thigh, a Celtic design extended up both arms and a dolphin arced just above her right ankle.

“They're beautiful,” Jenna said, sounding very close to meaning it.

Violet drew the black dress off the hanger. “It was a geographical necessity,” she said, undoing the zipper. “I lived on the streets for a while. I got my first tattoo on a dare and the next couple to fit in.”

The others had followed because they'd seemed like what she should do at the time. Now she regretted them, but it wasn't as if they could be scrubbed off.

“Why were you on the streets?” Jenna asked. “Or is that question too personal?”

“I was independent.” Violet slipped into the dress. “This is great.”

Jenna moved behind her and pulled up the zipper. “It's perfect. You have to wear it. I think it needs a little jacket. I have a couple you can choose from. My mom is very big on accessories.”

Violet was grateful for the change in subject. “She trained you?”

“Actually, she does my shopping.” Jenna shrugged. “I know it's weird, but she loves to shop and she's good at it. She'll show up with bags of clothes for me to try on. I keep the ones I like and she returns the rest.”

“Nice system.”

“It is. I'm spoiled. If things get serious with this guy and you want to change your look, you should talk to her. I'm sure she'd love to help. She can suggest stores or even take you shopping.”

The thought was nice, Violet thought. Impossible, but
nice. In her world, the mother of her boss didn't bother with an employee. Of course in her world, her boss didn't usually lend her brand-new dresses.

“Let's go see what jackets I have. I'm thinking short and tailored, but not too severe. We want him to be impressed, not afraid you're into discipline.”

Violet trailed after her, wondering what life would have been like if her own mother had cared about her. As it was, Violet had run away at fifteen and never gone back. When she'd been younger, she'd dreamed about finding a family to take her in. A place to belong. She'd always wanted that.

Without meaning to, she thought of Cliff. He wasn't anything like the guys she usually dated. He was normal—at least on the surface. She would bet he'd never gone hungry a day in his life.

They had nothing in common. She would be foolish to allow herself to hope. But maybe, just maybe, a little anticipation couldn't hurt.

 

She wasn't too proud to buy love, Jenna thought humorously as she delivered paper plates filled with lemon bars to the businesses around her store. Or at the very least, good neighbors and potential customers.

She saved Only Ewe for last and was pleased to see Robyn behind the register.

“How's it going?” the other woman asked when she saw Jenna. “You've been getting a crowd over there.”

“Finally.” Jenna handed over the plate. “A little sugar rush to keep you going.”

“Thanks. These look delicious.” Robyn lifted the plastic wrap and sniffed. “You're killing me, you know that, right? Those brownie-cookies were beyond wonderful. I bought
the bag of ingredients and made them over the weekend. It was really easy. What a great idea.”

“Violet came up with it. We're going to keep offering premeasured ingredients with recipe cards. And not just desserts, for actual meals.”

“It's perfect,” Robyn told her. “I'm tired when I'm done working and I don't want to think up what to cook and then have to stop at the store. This is nearly as easy as fast food, but healthier and fresh. Not to mention, it will impress my boyfriend, T.J.”

The front door opened and several older women entered. Robyn waved.

“A few of my regulars,” she said in a low voice.

“You have a great store,” Jenna told her, looking at all the bins filled with yarn. “It makes me want to learn how to knit.”

“We have beginner classes starting all the time. My grand mother teaches them. She's incredibly patient.”

“I'd like to try.” She thought about the classes she had lined up at her own store. “Maybe when things calm down a little.”

“Don't hope for that,” Robyn said with a smile. “Not in retail.”

“Good point. How about when my schedule starts to make sense?”

“Better.”

Jenna excused herself and returned to her store. Violet had already set up for the class, and several women and men chatted by the chairs. She saw her mother and waved.

Beth broke away from the group and hurried toward her.

“They're very excited about the class,” she said in a low voice. “Advertising in Sun City was brilliant. Especially for
a class like this. People who live there have plenty of money and are the type to be interested in cooking.”

“As long as it brings in customers,” Jenna said.

“It will. You're going to be so successful. I can feel it.”

Beth hugged her, then gave her a push toward the kitchen area. Jenna grabbed an apron and pulled it over her head, then washed her hands.

“Are we ready?” she asked, smiling at the rapidly growing crowd. There had to be more than twenty people in the store for the class. They only had seating for thirty. Something she'd never thought of as a problem. The space would get a little crowded when everyone got up to cook, but she told herself that would make it more fun.

“Low salt doesn't have to mean low taste,” she began, repeating the name of the workshop. “Salt does many things to food, but what we're most interested in is how it brings out the flavors. Most people believe that no salt means no flavor. What we're going to discover today are ways to make a meal even more delicious using herbs, rubs, spices and sauces. Are you ready to get started?”

Everyone nodded.

“Come on up,” she said.

The cooking class quickly spiraled into a disaster, with not enough burners, pots and utensils. But no one seemed to mind. The soup team experimented with the spices she'd put out for them, while the men who'd taken over the grill pan admitted that her custom rub really did make the chicken taste great. Jenna moved from group to group, offering suggestions and answering questions.

She watched anxiously as the chili group tasted their food. She'd played with that recipe, adjusting a few things, and now wondered if she'd made a mistake. Although her changes had
been minor—a teaspoon each of coffee granules and mocha powder—she couldn't help doubting herself.

She hated her indecision, she thought grimly. But the two men and three women were all grinning as they tasted, and then went back for bigger spoonfuls.

“This is delicious,” one woman said, glancing toward Jenna. “What did she put in the spices?”

Jenna sighed with relief. Facing the self-defeating voices in her head was the first step in getting herself back. Maybe that spark was still there. At least the chili was good.

“You're going to have those prepacked ingredients, aren't you?” one gray-haired woman asked her.

“Yes. They're up front. You can also buy the rubs individually or as part of a basket.”

The class had so many different dishes that the ingredients hadn't fit in a paper bag. Violet had found a craft supply store with a sale on baskets and had bought them out.

“Oh, I like the baskets,” a second woman said. “But when I come back for more ingredients, can I just reuse the same basket?”

“Of course,” Jenna said, making a decision on the spot.

“Good. I want what they're having.” She pointed to the chili group. “My sons love chili.”

When the class was finished, Jenna helped Violet ring up all the purchases. Beth joined them, doing the bagging. They sold every basket, nearly all the spices and rubs, ten cookbooks and over five hundred dollars' worth of pots and pans.

After the last customer left, Jenna leaned against the counter. “I love Sun City.”

Violet and Beth laughed.

“That was a fun class,” Beth said. “I'm going to make that chili and not tell your father it's low-salt. You know how
he is—anything new makes him nervous.” She paused and winked. “At least when it's new in the kitchen.”

“Mom,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes. “Don't frighten Violet.”

“I'm not frightened, I'm jealous,” Violet teased. She leaned toward Beth and lowered her voice. “Although Jenna
is
your daughter and that would fall under the category of too much information.”

“You're right. I'll keep it to myself. I wouldn't want to seem like I'm bragging.” Beth hugged Violet, then Jenna. “You girls are a great team. Call me if you need anything.”

“We will,” Jenna assured her.

When she'd left, Violet sighed. “I really like her. She's great.”

“I know. I was lucky when they picked me.”

“Speaking of luck…or getting lucky…”

Jenna laughed. “Are we going to talk about your date next Tuesday?”

“I thought we'd talk about a certain doctor I know. I'd forgotten all about him, but I spotted him last night at Three-Legged Willie's and I thought of you.”

Jenna took a step back and held up both hands. “No, thanks.”

“I haven't offered anything yet.”

“But you're going to.”

“He would be the perfect rebound guy,” Violet told her. “He's cute, he's funny, sophisticated. The best part is he's a total player. He never wants to get involved. Rumor has it he's great in bed. The exact qualities you want in a rebound guy.”

Jenna shifted uncomfortably. “I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

“He has too much experience. I don't want to be compared
to other women and found wanting. Can't I start with someone who's grateful I would even consider sleeping with him?”

Violet laughed. “See, this is why you'd be great together.”

Jenna thought about pointing out she hadn't been kidding, but why sound even more pathetic with the truth?

“Can I give him your number?”

Jenna hesitated, then drew in a breath and nodded. “I can't wait,” she lied.

“H
ave you tried the cookies?” Beth asked, holding out the tray. “They're beyond delicious. If you're having anything close to a bad day, they'll make you feel better. I think they cure just about anything emotional.” She flashed a smile. “My daughter made them. And no, she doesn't get her cooking skills from me. I wish she did.”

Jenna smiled to herself as she rang up a large purchase. Beth was working a few hours so Violet could leave early and get ready for her hot date with the finance guy. Her mother was the best PR person around. So far she'd sold two of the most expensive mixers in the store, an entire set of pots and three Keurig coffeemakers.

The two women Beth was speaking to each sampled a cookie. Their tiny, polite bites were followed by moans that made Jenna feel all quivery inside. She loved it when people appreciated her food.

The smell of chocolate drifted through the store, the result
of her morning baking combined with the sweet scent of the berries she'd pureed earlier. Fruit and chocolate was always a winning combination.

She had the sudden urge to work with crepes. Chocolate with an unexpected bite. Or maybe rolled chocolate, like a cannoli, filled with a fruit and cream mixture.

“Is there a recipe?” the taller woman asked, bringing Jenna back to the moment.

“Yes.” Beth leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Even better—there are bags by the register with all the dry ingredients already measured. You only have to add eggs and butter at home. Isn't that the best? You could make these tonight. I know I'm going to. My husband loves them.”

The two women turned and looked at Jenna. She finished with her customer, then held up the bags.

“Were you talking about these?” she asked innocently. “The cookies? We're having trouble keeping the ingredients in stock.”

“I'll take three,” the shorter woman said firmly. “I have my grandchildren coming by next week.”

Jenna rang up their purchases, then glanced at the clock. It was nearly six. When the women left, she walked to the door and turned the sign, then locked it.

“And we're done.”

Beth carried the tray to the kitchen and set it on the counter. “Aren't you exhausted? I don't know how you do this all day.”

“It's not that much harder than working in a restaurant.”

“It feels hard. You were busy and you didn't even have a class today. You're going to have to hire some part-time help.”

“I know.” The thought pleased her. After that first disastrous week she'd been afraid she couldn't sell enough to pay
the light bill, let alone the rent. Now she was actually scrambling to get everyone taken care of. Her store was making it.

“Having all these customers is what the self-help gurus would call a quality problem.”

Beth laughed. “The only kind to have.” Her gaze turned speculative. “Tell me about Violet's date.”

“There's not much to tell. It's a first date. He works in finance. She's a little nervous because he's not her usual type. Apparently Violet prefers bad boys to nice guys.”

“A lot of women fall into that trap. But she's getting out there, trying something new.” Beth put the leftover cookies into baggies. “You could go on a date.”

Jenna wasn't even surprised. “I'm impressed. I've been home nearly three months and this is the first time you've mentioned me dating.”

“I wanted to give you time.”

“Which has run out.”

Her mother's mouth twitched. “Yes, it has. There are several very nice young men working in your father's bank. Or if you don't want to date someone who reports to him, which I understand, there are customers. Single men with good prospects.”

Jenna crossed to Beth and took her face in her hands. “I love you. Stay out of my love life.”

“Someone has to do something. You're spending all your time working.”

“My business is all of forty seconds old. Let me get it going before I get distracted.”

“You need to get out there, have a life. You don't have to get serious, but you need to start dating. Aaron was a charmer, that's for sure but, as my grandmother would say,
when you met him, you led your ducks to a dry pond. Find a better pond.”

Jenna dropped her hands and thought of Violet's doctor friend. The one who didn't get involved and was supposed to be a god in bed. Probably not a news item to share with her mother.

“I'm considering it,” she admitted. “Violet says I need a rebound guy.”

“That's true,” Beth said thoughtfully, dropping the bag of cookies into her purse.

“You know what a rebound guy is?”

“I have cable. I know things.”

Jenna laughed. “I'm sure you know more than me.” The laughter faded. “I know I need to get out there. I still want to meet someone great and fall in love. Have a family. My biological clock is ticking, but I also don't want to make another mistake. I always thought I'd have what you and dad have.”

“Every relationship is different.”

“Aaron was a bad choice. I see that now. I don't regret the divorce, I don't want to be with him, but all that time is lost and I can't get it back.”

“You're thirty-two. You have lots of time.”

“It doesn't feel that way. The girls I was friends with in high school are all married with kids.”

“You went a different way. You wanted a career.”

Which was true but also surprising, considering Beth had always stayed at home. Jenna had loved her mother and hadn't been looking for a way to rebel. Maybe she was just different.

“You'll find your own happy ending,” Beth told her. “No one path is right for everyone. We all make compromises.”

“You didn't compromise. You wanted to be a wife and a mother and you are.”

“I wanted more children,” Beth said. “I wanted a big family.”

Jenna had forgotten that. Beth had been in a bad horse back riding accident when she'd been young. The resulting injuries and surgery had left her damaged enough that it was unlikely that she could ever have children. She'd explained her situation to Marshall on their third date and had bravely told him she would understand if he didn't want to see her again. A man like him wanted sons of his own.

Jenna had heard the story a dozen times. He'd dropped Beth off at her sorority house and had been back first thing in the morning. He'd taken her in his arms, brushed away her tears and told her he loved her. That they would adopt. They'd started the process the day after they'd returned from their honeymoon.

Less than six months after their marriage, they'd been given Jenna.

“You should have adopted more,” she said gently, touching her mother's arm.

“In hindsight, maybe. But I'd heard so many stories about women who adopted, then got pregnant.”

Which had happened, Jenna thought sadly. Beth's body had figured out a way to get pregnant but carrying to term had been impossible. She'd miscarried half a dozen times over several years.

Beth and Marshall had then turned to adoption again, only to have two pregnant teens change their minds at the last minute. From what Jenna had figured out, they'd stopped trying to adopt after that.

“We were grateful to get you,” Beth said. “We stopped with perfection.”

“I'm not perfect, Mom. You know that.”

“I disagree. You were never like other teenagers. You didn't talk back, or turn surly.”

“What about the year I refused to clean my room?”

“Easy stuff when compared to drugs or sleeping around.”

Jenna widened her eyes. “Mom, I slept with the entire football team. Didn't you know?”

Beth grinned. “Uh-huh. I don't think so.”

Her mother was right, Jenna thought. She'd loved her parents, had enjoyed her life. Only once had she acted out in teenage rebellion. It had been because she'd been grounded for a weekend after breaking curfew. Sure her “real” parents would understand her better, she'd decided to find them.

Two days later, filled with guilt and remorse, she'd returned to the agency and withdrawn her name from the registry.

Her mother hugged her. “You're all I've ever wanted, sweetie. You know that, right?”

“Yes. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now think about getting a social life.”

Jenna shook her head. “You can't ever stop trying to make things better, can you?”

“No. It's in my DNA. You're going to have to suffer through my quest for you to be happy.”

“I will be,” Jenna said.

But when her mother had left, she stood alone in the store and wondered what was the next step toward happiness. She was making a success of something that could have been a disaster. She was trying new things, making real connections with people. So why did she still feel a gnawing emptiness inside?

 

Violet hesitated outside of Wildfire. The restaurant looked welcoming. There were just enough people to make her feel
as if the food was good but not so many as to be intimidating. It was five after seven on Tuesday—which made her fashionably late for her date.

She'd changed her mind about coming at least seventeen times in the past two hours. Even as she'd dressed, done her makeup and driven to Old Town, she'd kept thinking it was a mistake. She wasn't even sure she liked Cliff. He wasn't anything like the guys she usually dated, which was a point in his favor. The actual paying job that included an office and business cards was new. He'd been nice. Not too pushy.

She smoothed the front of the black dress she'd borrowed from Jenna. Over it she wore a three-quarter sleeve red-and-black cropped jacket. The nubby fabric contrasted with the smooth silk. She'd added a single pair of silver dangle earrings, had backed off on the bracelets and put on ridiculously high-heeled pumps.

Indecision poured through her. Stay or go?

She glanced into the restaurant again and saw Cliff. He stood inside the door, watching her. He looked…hopeful, she thought. His mouth seemed to be fighting a smile, but she knew he was wondering if she would come in or walk away.

Once again he was dressed in a tailored suit. His white shirt collar was open and she saw part of his tie peeking out of his jacket pocket. His sandy brown hair had been recently brushed.

He had a nice face, she decided. Regular features. He was average-looking—the kind of guy who fit in anywhere. One who most likely paid his bills on time, liked sports and probably considered having an extra beer during the game the extent of being bad.

Did men like that really exist? She knew they did in other places, like in Jenna's world. But for her? Not so much.

Maybe it was time to change that.

She held her clutch purse more tightly and walked toward him. His smile took over his face, brightening his eyes. He hurried to meet her.

“Hi,” he said. “You came.”

“I did.”

“You look amazing. I remembered you being beautiful, but then I tried to talk myself out of it. I figured it was probably the glow from the olives. But it was you.”

Her cheeks warmed. It took Violet a second to realize she was actually blushing. She didn't think she'd blushed since she'd been eleven.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” he asked, motioning to the restaurant. “I was an optimist and asked them to hold a table for us.”

She nodded and started inside.

He moved next to her, putting his hand on the small of her back. She felt the heat of his fingers. Usually when a man touched her there it was simply on the way to grabbing her ass, but Cliff's hand didn't move.

They were shown to a corner table. The restaurant was appealing, with white walls and a dark ceiling. Ceiling fans circled lazily above them.

“Have you been here before?” he asked when they were seated. “A few people at work recommended the food. It's supposed to be excellent. A lot of different choices.” His face tightened. “Let me know if I'm talking too much.”

Violet didn't know what to say to that. How could someone like her make a guy like Cliff nervous?

Their server appeared. He was a tall man in his mid-twenties. His gaze settled on Violet for several seconds. The attention made her nervous. Had he guessed? Was he going to tell Cliff she didn't belong in a place like this?

“Good evening,” he said instead. “Welcome to Wildfire. We have three specials tonight.” He listed them, then took drink orders.

Cliff ordered a Scotch on the rocks. Violet wanted something a little safer and asked for a glass of the house white.

She turned to find Cliff staring at her.

“What?” she asked, touching her hair.

“I can't believe you're here. Did you see the waiter staring at you? He thinks you're gorgeous. Why aren't you married to some rich guy who owns half of Texas?”

“We dated for a while, but he got on my nerves.”

Cliff grinned. “That's a break for me. So Violet of the olive aisle, tell me about yourself.”

“I work here in Old Town. In a store called Grate Expectations.” She spelled
grate.
“It's new. The owner is a fabulous chef without a lot of retail experience. It's fun and we're a good team. What about you? Your card says finance. What area of finance are you in?”

“I work with companies who want to raise money in the stock market.”

He briefly explained about offerings, preferred and common stock, then stopped when the waiter appeared with their drinks.

“Have you decided?” the server asked.

“No,” Cliff told him. “I can't take my eyes off her.”

“Understandable,” their waiter said. “I'll give you a few more minutes.”

Violet was flattered by the attention but a little confused by it, too. She knew she was pretty, if slightly off the center of conventional beauty, but Cliff seemed to think she was fascinating. Is this how normal guys acted? Maybe she wasn't used to compliments because when a guy was paying for sex, he rarely bothered.