All About Charming Alice by J. Arlene Culiner

Rose gave her most winning smile.
    Alice couldn’t miss the bright smile Jace gave in return, and she felt indescribably sad. And dowdy. And like an utterly useless third wheel. She and Jace had shared a delicate, magic moment only a few minutes ago, Alice was sure of it. But now she felt the magic sneak sulkily out of the room, to be replaced by a new piece of theater: the Rose Badger Show.
    Now, of course, Rose would charm the socks off Jace. Rose was perfectly lovely: tonight she’d fluffed up those beautiful golden curls, and put on a delicious crushed raspberry shade of lipstick.
    “Oh Alice,” sighed Rose. “What on earth are you cooking? It smells absolutely heavenly.” It was impossible to ignore the hint.
    “I take it you haven’t eaten.” Alice’s tone was dry, although she did her best to muffle the sarcasm.
    “I haven’t, as a matter of fact. I’m starving. There were so many clients showing up at the shop I didn’t think I’d ever get to close. I finally had to run away and come here, just to escape.”
    This wasn’t the moment to mention that Rose’s clients had left her with enough time to spruce herself up for this “impromptu” visit, thought Alice, noting the tight, soft sweater that left little of Rose to the imagination. “Of course you’ll join us for dinner.”
    “Alice and I were just about to sit down together and eat.” There was a little note of teasing laughter in Jace’s voice.
    “Alice is a brilliant cook,” Rose chirped, unaware of any tension in the room.
    “After the meals I’ve had here so far, I couldn’t agree with you more.” Jace’s eyes were still on Alice. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
    “Just a question of liking to experiment, I guess. I’ve always loved cooking.” Alice smiled. “And eating.”
    She felt his eyes travel over her body. She knew she was all length and bones. Stringy, she called herself. With no luxurious curves to tempt him.
    “No one in the world could put on an ounce if they walked as much as Alice does,” chirped Rose who must have intercepted Jace’s glance. “She must cover at least twenty miles a day with those dogs of hers.”
    Why didn’t they talk about something else! Why couldn’t they just forget her existence? Alice cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl with unnecessary violence. If only Jace and Rose would stop examining her like that — as though they were observing a strange bug under a microscope. She felt her cheeks glow pink.
    “Who were your clients, Rose?”
    “Rich tourists. On their way to Reno.” Rose launched into a description of a woman whose face had been lifted so many times “it looked like the skin on a snare drum.”
    Jace laughed, and conversation became general. Alice listened with one ear, all the while observing how well the two of them seemed to get on together. How easygoing their chat was. How simple it was to have a conversation with someone like Rose; she was honest, humorous about herself and her life. And utterly spontaneous. It would be nice to be like that.
    By the time dinner was over, real complicity seemed to have grown between Rose and Jace. But Alice was in a black mood. Both had forgotten she even existed.
Never satisfied,
she chided herself.
One minute you want everyone to ignore you, and the next, you’re furious when they do.
    Still, it would have been nice if Jace had resisted — just a little — Rose’s charm.
    She glanced up at the ancient wooden clock ticking loudly on the opposite wall. Rose showed no sign of leaving, nor Jace of tiring. Alice was beginning to feel like a chaperone. Might as well leave the two lovebirds alone.
    She stood. “Don’t forget to turn out the lights, Jace.” Her voice sounded ragged, sour. For heaven’s sake, what difference did it make to her if his interest in her had been so short-lived? She hadn’t wanted his attentions, had she? The fact that he’d let her drop so quickly showed how right she had been in her