Tempting Fate

“The kitchens at the inn are state-of-the-art—”

“So?”

Dani pushed through the dining room, hoping to circumvent one of Kate’s lectures on how she should scrimp a little more on her companies and a little less on herself.

“I don’t know how you live like this,” Kate grumbled, following Dani upstairs.

She’d kept the small back bedroom she’d used during stays there as a child, leaving the larger front bedroom for Mattie’s increasingly rare visits. Its leaded-glass windows and view of the garden made up for its size and meager furnishings. Dani had cleared out the junk and old furniture that had gathered over the years, then painted the walls a fresh white. She’d added an antique chestnut bureau and a cherry bed she’d covered with a flower-garden quilt and an old woolen blanket from a mill in Mattie’s hometown in Tennessee.

Kate immediately went to the closet, giving an exaggerated groan when she opened the door. “Is this it? Don’t you have stuff in other closets in the house?”

“No.”

“What about your apartment in New York?”

The biggest closet in her three-room apartment was half the size of her one here. Kate had never been to her apartment. She hated New York.

“It’s bursting with gowns and furs,” Dani said, straight-faced. “I have entire drawers filled with diamonds, sapphires, silk scarves—one whole closet just for shoes.”

Kate scowled over her shoulder. “Very funny.”

With a brave sigh, she plunged into the closet. Dani flopped down on her bed, convinced that Kate, with her unerring sense of style, would come up with something. She could turn heads in a five-dollar flea-market rag.

There wasn’t a sound from inside the closet.

Finally Kate emerged with static hair and a grim look. “It’s bad,” she said.

“Sometimes I wish I were as rich as people think I am.”

“You could have been. It was your idea to tell your grandfather to shove your Chandler trust up his rear end.”

“I wasn’t that blunt.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. The way the Pembroke’s going and with mineral water and natural sodas all the rage, you’ll be rolling in money before too long. Which will no doubt drive you crazy, and you’ll buy some moribund company to gobble up your cash.”

“Have you been talking to Ira?”

“You always need a challenge in front of you. Worse thing for a Pembroke is to have everything he or she wants.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, money isn’t the reason you don’t have anything to wear tomorrow. Much as you’d like to pretend otherwise, you’re no pauper. The only reason you don’t have anything to wear is because you won’t buy anything. When’s the last time you wore an evening gown?”

“The works?”

“Yeah, the works. Floor-length, jewels, hair done, heels, gloves.”

“I don’t do gloves.”

“Come on. When?”

Dani sighed. She remembered. Oh, Lord, did she remember. “Five years ago. On December sixteenth, to be exact.”

Kate stared at her, annoyed.

“No, I’m serious. It was Beethoven’s birthday. I had a date.”

“Well, then, no wonder you remember.” Her sarcasm was a none-too-subtle slam on Dani’s notoriously inactive love life. “Where did you go?”

“To a charity ball, of all things. Unfortunately I didn’t get the details on where it was and who was throwing it. I almost croaked when this guy drove right up to the New York Chandler.”

“Granddaddy and Aunt Sara were there?”

“Bejeweled and not expecting me.”

“They kick you out?”

“That would have been too crass. They were sickeningly gracious. Turned out my date—unbeknownst to me—worked for Chandler Hotels. He was new in town, brought in from Hawaii, and was unaware of my relationship with that side of my family. Thought I was his ticket to the top. Little did he know.”

“So that’s why you now have guys submit their résumés before you’ll go out with them.”

Dani shot her friend a look. “The man was a heel, Kate.”

“Yeah, well, heels do exist.” She got back to the point. “But you did wear an honest-to-God evening gown?”

“Black velvet with sequins. Low-cut. Very expensive. Even my grandfather approved.”

Kate looked as if she was trying to picture it. “Still have it?”

“Somewhere. I keep it around as another reminder of what being a Chandler and a Pembroke’s all about.”

Ever pragmatic, Kate said, “Well, velvet’s too heavy for August anyway. Why don’t you go into town and buy something. Little dresses are always in. Come on, Dani. You know clothes. You just don’t like to spend money on anything you might wear for fun. And—as you well know—you wear little dresses all the time. Just make it short and close-fitting and over forty dollars and you’ll be a hit. You’ve got a flat stomach and great legs.”

Dani frowned. “I don’t have time for a full-fledged shopping trip before tomorrow. Isn’t there something in there I could dress up?”

“No.”

“You could have hesitated.”

“Look.” Kate wasn’t about to give up. “Why not rent a dress. People do it around here in August all the time.”

Dani jumped off the bed. “I must have been crazy to accept that invitation, but I refuse to back down now, just on account of not having anything to wear. Don’t you have something you could lend me?”

“You’d look like a little kid dressing up in her mother’s clothes.” Kate winced at her faux pas, as if Lilli Chandler Pembroke had disappeared yesterday and not twenty-five years ago and all Dani’s wounds were still raw. It was a reaction Dani often received, even from her best friends. “I’m sorry—I know tomorrow won’t be easy for you.”

“Forget it. Actually, you’ve just given me an idea. I knew I could count on you. See Ira before you leave for a bottle of champagne. Your choice. You and your people will deserve to celebrate after pulling off tomorrow night.”

“Thanks,” Kate said. “Believe me, we’ll need to unwind. Your auntie’s a great big pain in the butt, if you’ll pardon my saying so—but she’s ever so sweet. Kills you with a look and twenty polite demands, if you know what I mean.”

“A Chandler lady never raises her voice.”

“No wonder you don’t fit in with that crowd.”