The Cinderella List
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“Does he fit the Cinderella List?” Jenny blurted.
Marlo nudged her ankle, not wanting Jenny to discuss their childhood game. Even louder, Jenny said, “I didn’t know your ideal man actually existed, Marlo.”
“List? What list?” Becky pounced on Jenny’s words. “An ‘ideal’ man actually exists? And you’ve found him, Marlo? Have you been holding out on us?”
“I think that’s absolutely wonderful!” Until that moment, Angela had been unusually quiet. Everyone turned to stare at her. Angela was a lot of things, but gracious wasn’t usually one of them. Angela’s features flushed with happiness. “I’m overjoyed, Marlo. It makes everything even more perfect.”
The group was taken aback by the transformation. Angela never beamed. She waited a beat before announcing, “I’m getting married!” The room was silent, as the astonishing news sank in, then everyone erupted in a cacophony of happy chatter.
The news hit Marlo like a piano dropped off a ten-story building. Angela married? Angela married? Bossy, controlling, frenzied and career-oriented Angela who had never had a nice thing to say about any man she’d ever dated? She was getting married?
Now Marlo was the only single woman in the Bridesmaid Club and was surprised to realize that she actually cared that she was losing this elusive race. She’d fallen behind in an unspoken marriage competition she hadn’t even meant to join. She felt an unexpected twinge of longing. Even more confusing were the images of Jake Hammond that skittered through her mind…the broad shoulders, a flashing white smile turned her way, his surreptitious peanut butter sandwiches with Bette….
Then a more practical thought came to her: if Angela got married, it meant another wedding—with cake and flowers and bridesmaids—and another dress. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Bridesmaid Club would survive and thrive another year.
Chapter Five
Marlo’s head swirled with disbelief as the rest of the ersatz bridesmaids continued chattering and squealing with joy.
She hadn’t realized until this moment how much she’d counted on Angela to be part of the single contingency in this group of married friends. Feeling like the Lone Ranger minus Tonto, Marlo painted a stiff smile on her face. She refused to rain on Angela’s parade.
“He’s perfect for me,” Angela babbled, in a very un-Angela-like way. “So forceful and smart. He’s the CEO of a manufacturing firm.” She looked doe-eyed and utterly smitten. “I’ve always loved men who can take charge. My knees feel weak when I’m around him.”
A little like hers, Marlo thought, when Jake Hammond has smiled at her. She’d had no idea until that moment just how vulnerable she was to his charm.
“It’s a good thing you met someone, Marlo, since you are now the only officially single woman in our group,” Becky pointed out unhelpfully. “Who’d have thought?”
No one, apparently. They all appeared rather stunned, like victims of an emotional hit-and-run. Several pairs of eyes fixed on Marlo, shining sympathy in her direction. For a bunch of women who in their college years had pronounced men “unnecessary,” they’d certainly come full circle. And Lucy’s announcement had underscored the fact that Marlo was now the group mascot—single and obviously pitiable.
“Marlo, you are a sly fox. If it weren’t for Lucy, we wouldn’t have heard about him at all!” Linda waggled a finger at her. “Knowing the kinds of parties you cater, he must be a big deal, fancy-schmansy, right?”
They drummed questions at her like hail on a tin roof, until she couldn’t tolerate another word. She held up her hands to silence them. “This is Angela’s day. Let’s not talk about me. Cake, anyone?”
No one noticed when Marlo slipped into the kitchen, where she stood with the heels of her hands braced against the tiled counter, eyes closed, praying frantically that she would allow nothing—including jealousy, envy or resentment—to mar Angela’s day.
By the time the women left in a swirl of chiffon, lace and satin, Marlo’s head pounded like a kettledrum, spurred by memories of her own dashed wedding dreams. Even though she had no interest in Jeremiah anymore, the memories of her pain were vivid as a body blow.
Lucy expressed her friend’s malady succinctly, as she and Jenny, who had remained behind to help, cleared the table and toted the dishes into the kitchen. “Stings, doesn’t it, to have the practically unweddable Anglea get married before you do?”
“It does.” Marlo sank onto a kitchen chair. “I’ve always believed I am independent and resourceful, not dependent or needy. If so, why do I feel like something is wrong with me?” Her memories drifted into that old morass of pain. “Not every man will be unfaithful like Jerry was, right? A good man just hasn’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 mind was 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.
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