like Jerry was, right? A good man justhasn’t come along yet, that’s all.” There was nothing wrong with being single. She just didn’t want to spend her life like that.
“What about the Cinderella List?” Jenny pointed out. “Does a man with your requirements even exist? Maybe you’ve set the standards too high.”
“It was just a game, Jen….” Marlo wondered when it had turned into something more in her mind. She turned to glare at Lucy. “And what was that nonsense about Jake Hammond?”
“Purely diversionary. Just a little something for the piranhas to chew on.”
Marlo didn’t know whether to be angry or amused by the ridiculousness of it all.
Jenny slipped out of the room and returned some minutes later with her faux fur stole and a piece of folded white typing paper in her hand. “I’d better go, ladies. As usual, the Bridesmaids’ Luncheon was a huge hit.”
It had been a hit, so why did Marlo feel a fierce headache coming on?
“Here.” Jenny thrust the piece of paper at Marlo. “I jotted this down. Maybe it will clarify things for you.”
After Jenny was gone, Marlo walked into her bedroom and sat down on the bed to open the note her sister had given her. What was Jenny up to now?
Marlo,
Maybe this new guy will meet all your requirements…you deserve the very best.
The Ideal Man, According to Marlo Mayfield
Handsome (dark hair preferred)
Good teeth, great smile
Well educated, intelligent
Emily Post manners (thoughtful, courteous, gracious, hospitable)
Earns a decent living
Sophisticated, charming, chivalrous
Looks good in jeans and suits
Appreciates fine food (and smells like oatmeal-raisin cookies)
Thoughtful, compassionate, intuitive
Sense of humor
Clever and willing to try new things, brave
Knows what the words ebullient, anthropomorphize and hubris mean
Health and disability insurance
401K
Faith in God
Can love be far behind?
Love, Jenny
Marlo studied the List thoughtfully, her gaze falling on each line and recalling many of the conversations she and Jenny had had over the years. Her sister’s memory was good—in her hurriedly written note, she hadn’t missed a single quality required of Marlo’s current-day Prince Charming. The silly childhood game had somehow managed to grow up right with her.
Angela’s unexpected announcement had only underscored her single state. It had also brought up her time with Jerry and her own thwarted wedding. The pain might be gone, but the promise she’d made to herself remained. Never would she do to another woman what the “other woman” had done to her.
After a couple of restless hours, Marlo did the only thing she knew would keep her mind off the ridiculous games her mindwas playing with itself. She baked. There was nothing more therapeutic than kneading bread dough.
It’s the twenty-first century, she mused, as she thumped a fist into the risen dough and felt the soft resistance against her knuckles. Women don’t need a man to be complete. She punched the doughy mass again. What were her friends thinking?
She already knew the answer to that question. They were thinking that because they were content in their marriages, they wanted her to be happy, too. The teasing had all been in good fun. It was just too bad she wasn’t having any.
It was the Lord who planned her days and hours, and Marlo wanted to listen to Him, not her changeable emotions. Doing that when she’d met Jeremiah was the biggest mistake of her life. When—if—she did meet someone, Marlo prayed that God would make it clear that she wasn’t treading on someone else’s territory.
While the bread was in the oven, she whipped up a batch of cookies, took a shower, put extra-strength gel in her hair and pulled it into rebellious spikes. Then she slipped into a T-shirt and bib overall shorts. Looking all of sixteen years old, she padded barefoot downstairs to remove the bread from the oven and bake the last of the cookies.
She flinched when the doorbell rang.
“What about the Cinderella List?” Jenny pointed out. “Does a man with your requirements even exist? Maybe you’ve set the standards too high.”
“It was just a game, Jen….” Marlo wondered when it had turned into something more in her mind. She turned to glare at Lucy. “And what was that nonsense about Jake Hammond?”
“Purely diversionary. Just a little something for the piranhas to chew on.”
Marlo didn’t know whether to be angry or amused by the ridiculousness of it all.
Jenny slipped out of the room and returned some minutes later with her faux fur stole and a piece of folded white typing paper in her hand. “I’d better go, ladies. As usual, the Bridesmaids’ Luncheon was a huge hit.”
It had been a hit, so why did Marlo feel a fierce headache coming on?
“Here.” Jenny thrust the piece of paper at Marlo. “I jotted this down. Maybe it will clarify things for you.”
After Jenny was gone, Marlo walked into her bedroom and sat down on the bed to open the note her sister had given her. What was Jenny up to now?
Marlo,
Maybe this new guy will meet all your requirements…you deserve the very best.
The Ideal Man, According to Marlo Mayfield
Handsome (dark hair preferred)
Good teeth, great smile
Well educated, intelligent
Emily Post manners (thoughtful, courteous, gracious, hospitable)
Earns a decent living
Sophisticated, charming, chivalrous
Looks good in jeans and suits
Appreciates fine food (and smells like oatmeal-raisin cookies)
Thoughtful, compassionate, intuitive
Sense of humor
Clever and willing to try new things, brave
Knows what the words ebullient, anthropomorphize and hubris mean
Health and disability insurance
401K
Faith in God
Can love be far behind?
Love, Jenny
Marlo studied the List thoughtfully, her gaze falling on each line and recalling many of the conversations she and Jenny had had over the years. Her sister’s memory was good—in her hurriedly written note, she hadn’t missed a single quality required of Marlo’s current-day Prince Charming. The silly childhood game had somehow managed to grow up right with her.
Angela’s unexpected announcement had only underscored her single state. It had also brought up her time with Jerry and her own thwarted wedding. The pain might be gone, but the promise she’d made to herself remained. Never would she do to another woman what the “other woman” had done to her.
After a couple of restless hours, Marlo did the only thing she knew would keep her mind off the ridiculous games her mindwas playing with itself. She baked. There was nothing more therapeutic than kneading bread dough.
It’s the twenty-first century, she mused, as she thumped a fist into the risen dough and felt the soft resistance against her knuckles. Women don’t need a man to be complete. She punched the doughy mass again. What were her friends thinking?
She already knew the answer to that question. They were thinking that because they were content in their marriages, they wanted her to be happy, too. The teasing had all been in good fun. It was just too bad she wasn’t having any.
It was the Lord who planned her days and hours, and Marlo wanted to listen to Him, not her changeable emotions. Doing that when she’d met Jeremiah was the biggest mistake of her life. When—if—she did meet someone, Marlo prayed that God would make it clear that she wasn’t treading on someone else’s territory.
While the bread was in the oven, she whipped up a batch of cookies, took a shower, put extra-strength gel in her hair and pulled it into rebellious spikes. Then she slipped into a T-shirt and bib overall shorts. Looking all of sixteen years old, she padded barefoot downstairs to remove the bread from the oven and bake the last of the cookies.
She flinched when the doorbell rang.
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