Sassy Cinderella. Kara Lennox

laughed. “Me? Too set in my ways.”

      “That’s what Pete used to say.”

      Edward sobered. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Every woman I meet, I compare her to your mother and find her lacking.”

      “Mom was special, all right.”

      “You’re not thinking of—”

      “No, not me. All the good women in Cottonwood have been taken.”

      “Is that why we’ve started importing new ones?” Edward’s gaze followed Sherry as she bustled around the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a plate of hors d’oeuvres in the other, refilling glasses and making sure everyone had everything they needed.

      “No exotic imports for me,” Jonathan said with an exaggerated shiver of revulsion. “Been there, done that.”

      By the time Pete and Sally had left for their honeymoon and the last guest had finally departed, Jonathan felt exhausted. He couldn’t imagine why. All he’d done was sit in this blasted chair. He supposed small talk required more of an effort from him than most people. Being pleasant to casual acquaintances sapped his energy. He’d much rather spend time with his horses and cows, which didn’t require conversation.

      Sherry moved around the room with a trash bag, scooping up paper napkins, plates and plastic champagne glasses. “Well, I’d say that was a success.”

      “You would?” He looked at the devastation the party had wrought on his house.

      “Oh, don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in a jiffy.” She kicked off her high heels and continued her efforts. “It was just so nice, getting to meet everybody. Now when I see them in town, I won’t be a stranger. Of course, I’m not sure all of them liked me. Anne’s mother, Deborah Chatsworth, I thought was going to flip her wig when I pulled a champagne cork out with my teeth.”

      “Deborah Chatsworth is something of a snob and her husband is worse. They wanted Anne to marry Jeff, have a doctor in the family. Instead, she went for Wade, an itinerant rodeo cowboy. But once they realized Anne and Wade were really in love, they accepted him. They’re okay once you get to know them.” Jonathan didn’t add that Sherry wouldn’t get that chance. She’d be gone.

      “And Reverend Crane, Allison’s father,” she said. “I burned my hand on a hot plate and I sort of let out a little curse. He turned so red I thought I was going to have to perform CPR on the spot.”

      “You burned your hand?”

      She held out one elegant, pale hand toward him, showing him a red mark on the outside of her little finger. “No big deal, but it hurt like hell—I mean, heck.” She cast worried glances around, but the children were nowhere in the vicinity. “Shoot, where are those kids? I hope they changed clothes before running down to the barn to play with their frogs.”

      “I doubt they did.”

      “They’re not mad at me anymore.”

      Jonathan already knew that. Once she’d told them they could have all the cake and punch they wanted, since it was a special occasion and all, she’d instantly become their friend. He thought a nurse should know better.

      She stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Jonathan, is there anything I can get for you? I’ve kind of ignored you these past few hours.”

      Nice of you to notice. “I could use some lunch.”

      She looked shocked. “How could you be hungry? I saw all those adoring women bringing you plates of food.”

      “Finger food. Itty-bitty pastries. Not enough to keep a mouse alive.”

      “Gee, I’m so stuffed I won’t eat for a—” She stopped. “Of course, I’m not you. What would you like? There’s leftover Frito-chili pie—oh, no, of course you wouldn’t want that, it almost poisoned you. I could make you a sandwich or soup.”

      He hoped never to see that Frito-chili pie again. “Is there any roast beef?”

      “I think so. Anne and Allison stocked the fridge pretty thoroughly.”

      “A sandwich, then, please.”

      “Okay.”

      Moments later he heard her clattering around in the kitchen and he started feeling guilty. She had enough to do, cleaning up after the party. Then again, there wouldn’t have been a party if she hadn’t arranged it.

      A short time later she set a tray in front of him—a sliced barbecued-beef sandwich and a bowl of thick potato soup. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed this. The soup tasted homemade. Maybe Anne or Allison had brought over some dishes already cooked, along with the groceries.

      “Is that all right?”

      “Mmm, yes, it’s fine.”

      She smiled, then resumed her cleaning efforts.

      He couldn’t wait to hear what Deborah Chatsworth would say on the subject of his nurse, not to mention Reverend Crane. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone who’d met Sherry would have an opinion on the subject.

      What a relief it would be to tell them, “She’s already gone. I fired her.”

      “Those choir ladies from the church sure seem nice,” Sherry said as she sprayed some furniture polish on the coffee table.

      Jonathan didn’t know to which ladies she referred, since he seldom noticed the choir when he went to church. “Mmm-hmm.”

      “It’s a shame, them missing out on their practice.”

      “Mmm-hmm. What?”

      “It seems Reverend Crane rented out the church hall to the high school dance squad to practice their routines while the gymnasium floor is being repaired. The church needs the money, so the choir ladies don’t blame the reverend.”

      “No, I don’t imagine so.” Jonathan picked up his book, hoping to discourage Sherry’s idle chitchat. He wasn’t much for flapping his gums just to fill silence. He soon learned, however, that this conversation had a very specific purpose.

      “But the choir has no place to practice.”

      “Can’t they practice in the church?”

      “Thin walls. They tried it once, but pretty soon they were all singing the disco song the dance squad was playing, and the dance squad girls were all kicking each other in the head because the singing next door was throwing off their rhythm.”

      “That’s a shame,” he said.

      “The reason I’m telling you all this is, well, I felt sorry for them, so I invited them to come practice here.”

      “What?” He couldn’t have heard right.

      “The invitation popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. There’s plenty of space, if we move the furniture out of these two rooms.” She indicated the living and dining rooms, which were separated only by a short bookcase. “And set out folding chairs—”

      “Are you out of your mind?” he roared. “The church choir? Here?”

      “The music will cheer you up. Doctors have done studies, you know, and—”

      “The music will not cheer me up. Having fifty strange women in my house will make me exceedingly cranky.”

      “There are only thirty-two members in the choir.”

      “Look, Sherry. I don’t like parties. I don’t like company. And I particularly don’t like a lot of jabbering women who only stop jabbering when they sing—off-key, I might add.”

      She looked stricken. “But I’ve already invited them.”

      “Then you can just uninvite them.”

      “But that