The Reluctant Cinderella. Christine Rimmer

      “No. Danbury Way parties are always the best ones. Everybody in Rosewood knows that. I can’t blame Rhonda and Irene for coming. I just wish they’d leave me alone.”

      “I totally understand.”

      Carly’s soft lip quivered and her china-blue eyes filled again. “Oh, Megan. If only he would call me. If he would just talk to me, you know?”

      Megan dared to suggest, “Maybe it’s too late for that. Maybe what you need to do is to start finding a way to get over—”

      “I just don’t understand.” Carly cut in, shaking her head, oblivious to what Megan had been trying to tell her. “I’ll never understand. I’ve been the perfect wife to him. He’s the center of my world. I know I could make everything right between us, if he’d only…” A sob escaped her. “…only…” Her eyes brimmed. “…give me a chance…” And she dissolved into tears again, crumpling toward Megan in her abject misery.

      Megan dropped the box of tissues and gathered her close. Carly sobbed all the harder. Megan stroked her soft blond hair and whispered that everything was going to be all right. Eventually, Carly wound down to a sniffle and a sob or two.

      Just when Megan was about to take her by the shoulders and tell her it was time to dry her eyes and rejoin the party, someone knocked on the door. Carly gasped and snapped up straight. Megan called, “Try the master bath,” and whoever it was went away.

      But Carly did get the message. She heaved another big, sad sigh and pressed her palms to her flushed, damp cheeks. “Oh, I’m such a mess. I have simply got to pull myself together. We can’t stay in here forever. It’s just plain rude. And I was not brought up to be rude.”

      Megan smiled. She really did like Carly, who was always the soul of courtesy and Southern gentility—even today, when her perfect marriage to the perfect man was over in the most final kind of way. “Come on. Splash a little cold water on your face, smooth that gorgeous hair and let’s get out there where you can show Irene and Rhonda that they don’t get to you in the least.”

      Carly took another tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Megan. Thank you.”

      “Hey. Anytime.” She started to rise.

      Carly caught her arm. “Wait.”

      As she sank back to the edge of the tub, Megan sent a little prayer winging heavenward that Carly wouldn’t turn on the waterworks all over again. “What?”

      Carly straightened her delicate shoulders and hitched up her chin. “I’m calling Greg.”

      Megan blinked. “Well, if you really think you—”

      “No, silly.” Carly actually smiled. “Not for me. For you.”

      Megan wasn’t following. “I don’t…why?”

      “Your company. What’s it called? Design…?”

      “Design Solutions.”

      “Yeah. That’s right. You’re a…?”

      “I’m a graphic designer.” And Design Solutions was all hers. Megan had a staff of six—okay, five and an intern. Her office was a short train ride away, in Poughkeepsie, close to home with low overhead.

      Carly was nodding. “You do, um, brochures, business cards, flyers, things like that, right?”

      “Right.” Megan did a lot more than flyers and brochures. But whenever she tried to explain about the real scope of effective design, about branding and positioning and how a top designer could boost a corporation’s bottom line, her neighbors tended to get glassy-eyed. As a result, except for Angela, no one in the area really understood what Megan’s work was all about.

      It was kind of funny, really. The neighborhood wives were always trying to help her out. They had her designing invitations to their kids’ parties, making flyers for their charity yard sales, creating letterhead stationery for their own personal use, that type of thing. Then they’d slip her a fifty in payment and tell her how “talented” she was.

      Megan knew they meant well, that they were only trying to be supportive. But they saw her in a certain way; she was the nice “full-figured” girl who rented the apartment over her sister’s garage.

      They didn’t understand that she had owned a house three years ago, a house she’d sold so she could put all her money into starting up her business—and help her single-mom sister out with the kids.

      Megan’s business venture had taken off. In a big way. She hardly had time anymore for a good night’s sleep, let alone for small jobs at nominal fees.

      Carly muttered darkly, “Yeah. It’s the least Greg can do….”

      Megan realized she hadn’t been paying attention. “Excuse me?”

      “He can give you an interview. He can maybe hire you to do…the things you do.”

      “Hire me?”

      “For Banning’s. You know. You can be their, um, graphic designer.”

      Megan was all-ears by then. “You’re serious.”

      “Oh, yes I am.” Carly sniffed and forced a brave smile.

      “Wow….” Banning’s was a small but nationally known family-run chain of upscale department stores. This was a real opportunity. Landing the Banning’s account would be a coup. And Megan would love a chance to freshen up their slightly stuffy image.

      Carly reached out and patted her hand. “I’m grateful. I truly am. For those times, like now, when you’ve been there, to listen to me and comfort me when things have been so rough for me. You are a very sweet person, Megan, and I want to do something to pay you back for your kindness to me.”

      Megan returned Carly’s smile. “What can I say, except ‘wow’ all over again?”

      “I’m glad to help you out….” Carly’s long lashes fluttered down and her forced smile softened. Megan knew she was thinking that asking Greg for this favor would be a good excuse to get in touch with him.

      Megan also knew that Carly—and Greg Banning—would see this as strictly a mercy interview. Banning’s would, of course, already have a major design firm overseeing all their graphics and company-image print work. Greg would agree, for his ex-wife’s sake, to hear Megan’s pitch, all the while knowing he would end up politely turning her down.

      What Greg Banning didn’t know was that Megan was Good—capital G intended. She was taking Carly’s offer and she was going to knock Greg Banning’s socks off.

      In a purely professional sense, of course.

      Megan realized that she, like Carly, was looking down. Because there was, after all, the little matter of…

      The crush.

      The embarrassing truth was that, back when Megan used to see Greg now and then around the neighborhood, before he moved out on Carly and into an apartment in the city, Megan had had a slight—very slight and totally secret—crush on him.

      A crush that was completely over and didn’t matter in the least. Puh-leese. In his own rich-guy-next-door way, Greg Banning was a complete hunk. He was so far out of Megan’s league there was no need to even think about that silly crush. It wasn’t as if he’d ever paid the least bit of attention to Angela Schumacher’s dumpy sister. Even ordinary guys never did….

      Now, wait just a minute! The voice of the new, successful Megan Schumacher piped up in her mind.

      True, before Design Solutions, Megan had often wished that she wasn’t so shy, that she was prettier and thinner, that some nice guy might notice her.

      Now, though?

      Not so much. Lately, she was feeling much more confident on the man front. When Megan was in entrepreneur mode, dressed in the bright colored, snug