Sassy Cinderella

The smile drooped. “I’ll try to adopt a more depressing attitude.” And she left.

Jonathan immediately felt guilty, and well he should. What was it about this woman that brought out the absolute worst in him?

Chapter Three

Sherry knocked on Pete’s bedroom door. “Pete? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jonathan’s grandfather opened the door, his hair sticking out wildly, his eyes reflecting blind panic. “I don’t have any shoes! I bought a new suit for the weddin’, but I forgot about dress shoes!”

“You must have something that would work.”

“All I have is boots. Cowboy boots and work boots, one pair of Hush Puppies and house slippers.”

“Let’s see the boots.”

When Pete showed her into his closet, she saw the problem. All of his boots were brown and his suit was blue. She selected the best-looking pair, brown ostrich skin. “I think I can make these work.”

Pete looked doubtful. “If you say so.”

She patted him on the arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are the kids getting dressed?”

“I laid out their clothes.”

“It’ll take more than that.”

Sherry checked her watch. She still had forty-five minutes before Pete and the kids had to leave for the church. “Sam! Kristin?” No answer. When she checked their rooms, their church clothes were untouched. Those rascals, they were probably hiding, testing her authority over them. She would have to be more stern, she knew. Soon Pete wouldn’t be here to help her manage them.

She’d seen some black shoe polish under the sink. She gave the boots a makeover, then buffed them, bringing the ostrich skin to a shiny black finish. A rancher should get married in cowboy boots, she thought with a grin. She set them on newspaper to dry, then went in search of Jonathan’s children. His breakfast would have to wait.

They weren’t in the house. She stepped outside and called, but no answer. Slightly worried now, she ventured farther from the house, calling their names. “Come on, kids, you have to get dressed for Grandpa Pete’s wedding!”

When they still didn’t answer, she headed for the barn, the most logical place for them to be. When she stepped inside the modern building, she heard childish laughter and sighed with relief. “Kids? Children? Come on, now, it’s time to get dressed for the—” She skidded to a stop when she spotted the children in an empty stall. They both leaned over a huge aquarium that sat on an old picnic table.

And they both did a really good job of ignoring her.

She came closer. “Do I need to clean the wax out of your ears? You don’t want to be late for the wedding, do you?”

Sam finally looked up. “These are our pets, Alexander the Great and Miss Pooh. Here, see?” He reached into the aquarium, picked up something large and before she could react, plopped it on Sherry’s shoulder.

She got a fleeting impression of slimy skin and huge, bulbous eyes, a cold, wet foot, or tentacle, or something touching her neck.

She screamed. The thing, whatever it was, leaped from her shoulder and landed on a hay bale.

“Get him!” Sam shouted. And both children dived for the creature, which Sherry could now see was an enormous bullfrog.

“No, you’ll get dirty!” Sherry objected, ineffectually as it turned out. Both children were crawling around on the filthy stall floor, chasing after the slippery frog.

Finally they corralled the animal and returned it to its habitat. Only then did they turn their attention to Sherry, who was trembling with anger.

If they’d been about to giggle at her reaction to the frog, they stopped when they saw her face.

“Go back up to the house this instant,” she ordered. “Wash your faces and hands, put on your church clothes, then sit in the living room, and don’t move until it’s time to leave for the wedding.”

Sam gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” He scurried away, followed by Kristin, who’d looked as if she were ready to cry.

Great. Jonathan hated her guts and now she’d made enemies of the children. At least Pete liked her.

Or so she thought.

Pete stood in the kitchen, bow tie in hand, staring down at the black boots. “What in tarnation did you do to my ostrich boots?”

“I polished them.”

“You turned them black! Missy, those are seven-hundred-dollar custom-made boots!”

“I don’t understand. Can’t boots be black?”

“But these are supposed to be brown!”

She was at a loss. She’d thought the boots looked much better after her polish job.

Just then, Jonathan hobbled into the kitchen. He wore the same pair of jeans as yesterday, one leg split up the center seam to accommodate his cast, but he’d also put on a starched dress shirt. He’d shaved and combed his wavy brown hair.

Her breathing came in shallow gasps.

“Problem?” he asked.

Sam and Kristin came running up to him, still dirty, still not dressed in the proper clothes. “Dad, Dad, Sherry yelled at us.”

Jonathan spared a flickering gaze toward Sherry.

“They threw a frog at me,” she said in her own defense. “And they weren’t obeying me very well. I’m sorry I lost my temper, but I didn’t want them to make Pete late for his own wedding.” While she made this speech, she pulled a chair out for Jonathan to sit at the kitchen table. Though he’d said nothing, she could tell by the tension in his face that it hurt him to stand.

Jonathan sat down, then looked at his children. “Go wash up. And put on your church clothes,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

They scrambled to do his bidding.

“See? No need to yell.”

Right. She’d told the children exactly the same thing, but they hadn’t listened to her. Were people like Jonathan born with a natural authority that children responded to? And had she been born without it? Or did it have something to do with her lack of parenting role models in her formative years?

If she ever wanted to have children of her own, she’d better figure that out.

Pete picked up his boots and, grumbling all the way, left the kitchen.

Jonathan watched him go, seeming faintly amused. Then he turned his gaze on Sherry. “Well, seems you’re winning friends and influencing people this morning. If you can manage to burn my breakfast, you’ll be four for four.”