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Authors: Allie Pleiter

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“Beats me. The church is the same, so the only thing I can figure is that we’ve changed. You know, our viewpoint and all.”

Jack’s hand found hers and pulled her toward him. “I know I sure like the new and improved Darcy.” His voice grew soft as he stared at her. “I like what’s happened to you. On the outside for sure, but on the inside, too. You’re different than…than you were. I don’t know that I can really explain it. It’s just…there.”

Darcy sighed. “We’re coming up for air, aren’t we?”

“Hmm?”

“When Dad was really sick, on some of those long nights when it felt like he’d go at any moment, I used to wonder what it would be like when life went back to normal. ‘Coming up for air,’ Meredith called it. Surfacing after all the crisis stuff. Coming up on the other side of all of it. I used to wonder what that would feel like.”

“Is it what you expected?”

“Sort of. Parts are completely different from how I thought they’d be. Other parts are—”

“Quit it Paula! Get out of my room and stay out! Daaad, make her stay out of my room!” Mike boomed from above them. A door slammed.

“Well, fine, Mr. Smarty-Pants, see if I care!” Paula returned fire, her own door slamming.

“—are pretty much the same as always.” Darcy laughed. Jack hugged her to him.

“I think we’re gonna come out of this okay, Dar.”

She nestled her head under his chin. The warm afternoon sunshine poured on them from the kitchen window. Even the sound of Mike’s high-volume stereo couldn’t put a damper on the moment. “Me, too.”

Jack blew out a breath. “Life is still far from perfect.”

“I’m okay with it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I think we can ride out whatever comes. I mean, look at all that’s happened. We were able to handle the awful parts, and so many good things ended up coming out of it. I’m beginning to understand, I think, how it was that Dad’s faith enabled him to take so much in stride.” Darcy waited. Normally, a remark like that would have brought a snide remark from Jack about Paul’s “never-ending God stuff.”

Today, Jack ran his hand across Darcy’s shoulder. “Your dad was an amazing man.” Darcy looked up at him, grateful for the words. “Kooky,” Jack added, poking Darcy’s nose the same way he always teased Paula, “but amazing. Kind of like this wife of mine.”

Darcy put on her best Zsa Zsa Gabor voice. “When you’re wealthy, dah-lings, it’s not kooky, it’s eccentric.”

“Nope,” retorted Jack shaking his head. “I stand on kooky.”

“I’m insulted.”

“I staked my ‘kooky’ and I’m not backing down.”

“Traitor!”

“Tyrant!”

“You…ugh!” Darcy yelped and picked up her foot as cold water seeped into her sock. She caught Jack’s eye. On cue, the fridge let out a death rattle and a very final-sounding thud. In perfect unison, they looked down together
to see a large puddle of rusty water expanding out over the floor. No doubt about it this time, the refrigerator was a goner.

“Handle anything that comes our way, huh?” Jack called over his shoulder as he spun several feet of paper toweling out of the holder.

“Well…”

“You better watch what you say next, Little Orphan Heiress.” Jack lay the towels down on the floor and pulled open the fridge door. He began handing food and containers to Darcy.

“Why do you say that?” Darcy was accepting items with one hand, while the other hand was already picking up the phone to call the Owens to borrow all their picnic coolers.

“Because evidently, hon,” said Jack’s voice from inside the dearly departed fridge, “God is listening.”

Chapter 29
The Snazziest New Customer

D
arcy leaned back in the pedicure chair, letting out a long sigh as she did. “What color did you pick?”

Kate handed her a bottle of the reddest red Darcy could imagine. “It’s called Vivacious—I like the color, but it’s the name that sold me. Pass the cookies, Madam President.”

“Ooo,” called Glynnis, reaching over Darcy’s lap to the bottle Kate held out, “let me see that one.” She held the polish bottle up, examining the shade. “Nope, too daring for me.”

“What do you mean?” Darcy laughed. Darcy “You can’t get much brighter than the pink you chose.”

“That’s different,” Kate and Glynnis replied at the same time. It made all three women laugh.

“Well, this is quite a party!” Ernestine stood looking at the trio, her hands on her hips. “If you bring anyone else in here to hold court, I’m going to need to buy another pedicure chair. You ladies do know you’re going to have to take off those tiaras if we’re going to do your hair?”

“It’s regrettable,” said Kate in her best royalty voice, “but we understand. Cookie?”

Ernestine accepted a cookie from Glynnis’s outstretched hand. “Thank you. Now you all have ten minutes to get this silliness out of your systems before I start on Lady Kate. Then Darcy, and then finally our newest customer, Glynnis.” Ernestine let out a rich, deep chuckle and shook her braids. “It is going to look like a beauty pageant by the time I get through with each of you.” She snatched another cookie out of the bag and headed off into the other room.

“This is such heaven,” sighed Kate, pulling one foot from the bubbles to examine its newly exfoliated beauty. “No wonder Frances Neyburg won’t stop talking to Meredith about getting her first pedicure at fifty-eight. I’m hooked, that’s for sure.”

“Did I tell you, Glynnis,” started Darcy, “that Anne Morton had glowing reviews for her day? And you’ll especially like this—the woman doing her hair color has a father in about the same stage of Alzheimer’s as Anne’s father-in-law. They became friends instantly. They’re having lunch next week, Anne told Doug.”

Glynnis adjusted her crown. “Don’t you just love it when—”

“God exceeds your expectations,” chimed Kate and Darcy in perfect unison, which only brought forth more giggles.

The trio was celebrating Darcy’s announcement that The Restoration Project was up and running full-blown. Somehow, there didn’t seem to be any other way to celebrate than booking a day of cookies, tiaras and the works at Ernestine’s. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Glynnis to come along.

Glynnis reached out and squeezed Darcy’s hand. “I think your dad would be so very pleased at what you’ve done. You could light a whole room from the glow in your eyes.”

“What I can hardly believe,” Kate added, her eyes wide, “is that what’s been set aside will fund thirty-six recipients a year forever. Three lives a month! It’s astounding. When I think of all that’s going to come from this—” Kate fell back in her chair “—I feel like Queen of the World.”

“Me, too,” said Darcy.

“There was no stopping this idea from the start,” Glynnis confirmed.

Suddenly Darcy shot upright in her chair. “Oh! Glynnis—I completely forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what, hon?”

“Michelle Porter has scheduled her day. And it was at her husband’s insistence. Could you imagine? Meredith called me last night to let me know.”

Glynnis smiled as if she knew it all along. “I’m so glad you didn’t give up on Michelle, Darcy.”

“Me, too. I think this is going to be such an important step for her. Meredith’s been trying to hook her up with this support group run out of the hospital—one for parents of terminally ill children. Meredith said she thinks Michelle may finally join.”

“That’s fantastic news,” said Kate, passing the cookies around again.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Glynnis. “It’s all wonderful news today.”

“It’s a good day to be an heiress, don’t you think, Madam President?”

“I guess so,” said Darcy, hoisting a cookie in a chocolate-mint toast. “I’m starting to think there aren’t really any bad heiress days.”

With that, Darcy’s cell phone rang, and the number of Mike’s middle school came up on the screen.

Darcy winced. Just goes to show how wrong a girl can be….

STEEPLE HILL BOOKS

ISBN: 978-1-4268-5954-0

BAD HEIRESS DAY

Copyright © 2005 by Alyse Stanko Pleiter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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