“What’s this all about?” Michael demanded. He and Krista had been cooling their heels for nearly an hour in a small room off the kitchen, used as a command post for the contest. Finally, Jonathan Smithers had chosen to make an appearance.
“You know what it is about.” The dapper man simmered with self-righteous triumph.
“It’s about our challenging you at the workshop, isn’t it,” Krista surmised.
“Ms. Mattson, you and your partner here have breached contest rules. That means an automatic dismissal from the kitchen site.”
“That’s bull,” Michael raged.
“I don’t like either of you, it’s true. But I cannot punish everyone I don’t like. Would be highly impractical. As things stand, I would have been forced to act, no matter who the entrant. That the entrant happens to be you two, well, it doesn’t break my heart.”
“You can’t hope to get away with this, Smithers.”
“I am only enforcing the rules. Your credibility has been questioned and I had no choice but to yank you from the lineup.”
Michael clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap. “Start explaining, Jonathan, before I explode.”
Smithers glanced back at the security guard near the door. “I wouldn’t advise any theatrics—”
“Explain, dammit!”
“Very well.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jonathan Smithers extracted a folded sheet of paper. “This is only a photocopy. The original is in the hotel safe.”
Michael snatched the paper from him. On it was the recipe faxed through the hotel to Krista. He waved it as if it were litter. “This is nothing!”
“It is a breach of contest rules. The rules state that no premixed ingredients may be used in the preparation of said entry. The use of Readiquick is strictly out. And, may I say, a pedestrian choice of ingredient.”
“I didn’t use Readiquick, you fool! This is not my entry!”
“I understand that it is.”
Michael stared at Krista, then back at Smithers. “Who made this accusation?”
“It was made in confidence.”
“I bet it was. You know why Gerald is a class act? Because he would’ve checked the validity of such a claim before taking action.”
“Unfortunately for you, Gerald leaves a lot of things to me, including this morning’s bake-off.”
“Surely we can reach him and settle this matter in time for me to proceed. I could still get my doughnuts made with my recipe. In fact, Smithers, you could watch our every move. That would prove everything was on the up-and-up.”
“I’m too narrow-minded and negative to help employees,” he said. “Remember?”
“Where is he?” Michael demanded.
“I believe he took some lady friend on a drive out to Mount Charleston.”
“Some lady, huh?” Krista peeped.
“Oh my God.” Michael turned to Krista with a look hot enough to incinerate.
They returned to their hotel room. On the faint hope that the lady in question wasn’t Beverly, Krista went into her bedroom to call her aunts’ suite. Rachel was there, by herself. It seemed that Beverly was indeed off with Gerald today. No, her aunt had no clue as to when they would return. But it would be before noon, as it was such a big day for Gerald’s company.
She returned to the living area to find Michael pacing the living space.
“Michael—”
“I can’t believe this has happened!”
“I’m afraid it is Beverly with whom Gerald—”
“No doubt about it! Would have to be one of the Mattson gang, and she’s the logical choice.”
“I put Rachel on alert. The minute she hears from Beverly, she will relay the problem.”
“Goodie.”
Krista wrung her hands fretfully. “Have you considered who might have betrayed you this way? Maybe if we confronted this person, he or she could speak to Smithers—”
“That would do no good. The fax is all too real. Even I must admit that on the surface the evidence looks bad. It appears that I may have cheated. With that miracle food, Readiquick. Face it, the damage is done.”
“Perhaps Rachel could explain to Smithers.”
“Krista, only Gerald can fix this mess. He knows about the coffee cake recipe, knows it is separate from my recipe.”
“Maybe he’ll return in time.”
“He won’t.”
“I am so sorry.”
“You should be! This is all your fault.”
She was astounded at his charge. “What about the lousy traitor who turned you in? Who slipped my napkin to Gerald? Odds are it’s the same person, a Norquist or a Larkin. This person is the one who has done the damage.”
“You don’t have to rub in the fact that someone I care for betrayed me. I get it. Loud and clear. That person gave in to the pressure of the contest. But as I see it, Krista, it’s pressure that wouldn’t have existed without you.”
“What?”
“All my troubles stem from my association with you. The napkin wouldn’t have existed without you. The fax with that awful recipe wouldn’t have existed without you.” He slapped his forehead. “I don’t know what came over me, allowing a two-bit advice slinger to seduce me into this kind of web.”
“Hey, you came to Simona, remember? Simona to the rescue. You were so grateful.”
“If you recall, I originally came for a retraction to win my fiancée back, not a benchwarmer to take her place.”
“But we’ve decided she was all wrong for you.”
“Well, maybe so. But if not for your column, she and I could have coasted through this convention without a fumble. All I wanted to do, Krista, was make the best damn doughnut possible for the contest. Just try to imagine this contest, without you and your aunts’ interference.”
“You’ve got to believe I’ve had the best intentions. Helped in every conceivable way,” she said in her defense.
He expelled a breath. “Okay, I admit you tried on some levels—”
“Some levels? I bonded with your friends, was charming to Gerald, made your dream my own!”
“It might have worked if you had kept one crucial promise—if you had sent your aunts home when I asked you to. But I suppose that would have been the boring way out, as it was my convention that was providing their headline entertainment!”
Krista was quaking with anger as she held up a shaky palm. “I can’t believe how naive a normally intelligent man can be. But you are standing here, the living proof. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, I hoped you could go on believing in your charm, your magnetism, your need for a fiancée in the first place.”
“It’s about time you know the truth about my aunts, Michael. I did intend to send them away when you asked. Hey, I didn’t want them hanging around, either. They are pests who never know when to back off.”
“Don’t tell me your love for them stopped—”
“I assure you I love them. But it was not a question of my affection. It was Gerald Stewart.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was giving them the heave-ho with some success when Gerald spotted us in the lobby.”
“I remember. He invited us to dinner.”
“He invited my aunts to dinner,” she clarified hotly. “You and I were an afterthought. In fact, we’ve been an afterthought ever since. Like it or not, Beverly in particular was the bait he intended to reel in.”
Michael shook his head forcefully. “No. Gerald’s liked me for ages. Me.”
“No. Gerald didn’t know you from Adam when we first arrived. I noticed it right off at the cocktail party in the Larkins’ suite. I was speaking to him and quickly got the impression that most DD owners and managers were a blur. Part of Jonathan Smithers’s job is to refresh Gerald’s memory on just who the players are in the DD family. Smithers is of great value to him, despite his steely methods. He knows his stuff. He’s the one who knew of you.”
“Damn.” Michael rubbed his face. “So all the favors, all the attention was due to those two meddlers.”
“You have proven yourself since, Michael. By now Gerald knows exactly who you are—”
“Fat lot of good it does me.” He gazed upon her in disappointment. “I hate that you kept all this from me for so long, Krista.”
“There are other things I would like to tell you—”
“No. Please don’t. I can’t bear to hear another word about you or your wacky relatives. Plainly, any plans we had aren’t going to work out. From my perch, your whole life looks like an endless maze of deception. I can’t handle any more of it.”
“But it isn’t as it seems!”
“Nothing is as it seems with you Mattsons. And I can’t afford to care about that. I keep life uncomplicated, on an even emotional keel. Another single day with you might be enough to crack me into a million pieces.” He marched to the door, only to turn back briefly.
“I suppose you’ve figured out the saddest part of all, haven’t you? Gerald never took personal note of my engagement when it appeared in the company newsletter. He had no intention of following up on it after his brief announcement at the opening reception. As for my friends, they would have been far too caught up in the game to take notice if I’d made a lame excuse for coming alone.
“So much for the big family plan. I never needed a partner in the first place.”
On that sorry note, he left.
KRISTA HEADED for her aunts’ suite. Rachel answered after a series of hard knocks. She was dressed in a skimpy pink terry-cloth robe.
“What took you so long?”
Her huge eyes bounced and rolled as she pointed to her bare feet. “I was just relaxing. Having a snack, painting my toenails. There’s a big shindig tonight, you know. We’re sitting with Gerald at the top table.”
Krista breezed inside. The room had Rachel’s self-indulgent stamp on it, all right. The soap opera channel blaring on the television, a bottle each of red nail polish and polish remover on the coffee table…along with something else—a pineapple upside-down doughnut, also known as a Kris Pineapple Kringle.
Rachel had returned to the sofa and was about to take a bite out of the doughnut.
“Stop!” Krista cried. “Hold it right there.”
Rachel’s small pouty mouth sagged. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Don’t talk, don’t even breathe. Just lower the doughnut to the plate. Easy now, don’t damage it.”
“But I’m hungry. And it’s all your fault, making me wait here while my sister is out on a date.”
Krista didn’t look particularly sympathetic. “Have you any more of those doughnuts?”
“A few.”
“Thank heavens for that!” With a joyous sigh she collapsed on the sofa beside her aunt.
“SO HERE YOU ARE!”
“We’ve been frantic to find you.”
Michael shifted on his bar stool to find the Mattson sisters standing by. “Nobody’s better at finding me than the two of you. So, what do you want now? A pint of blood?” He laid out his arm on the bar. “Go ahead, open a vein.”
The ill-mannered greeting didn’t stop Rachel and Beverly from sliding onto the empty stools at his right. Or from ordering their usual beverages.
“We want you to know everything is fixed,” Rachel chirped with a toss of her blond head.
“It sure is.” Shaking his head he sipped his whiskey.
“Listen up,” Beverly ordered brusquely. “We had a long talk with Krista and we understand the ramifications of the whole mess.”
His profile remained set in granite. “Go away.” As the waiter brought their drinks, he gestured to the martini. “That should have two olives.”
“See how sharp you are?” Rachel gushed. “No need to feel like a loser.”
He turned with a thin smile. “Why, thank you.”
“Let’s get down to it,” Beverly went on. “You should know that you aren’t out of the contest.”
“Of course I am.” He tapped his watch. “It is five in the afternoon. The panel of judges chose the three finalists two hours ago. The finalists were sent on to Gerald, and he has probably already made a decision on the winner and the two runners-up.”
“The conclusions you jump to.”
“So negative, too.”
“Ladies, I’ve never considered myself homicidal, but for your own safety, I suggest—”
“Oh, we understand about powerful emotion,” Rachel assured. “I was once homicidal over a Patrick von Clark. I felt like killing him when he dumped me for a tramp at a peace march, just because she was carrying a bigger sign.”
“It wasn’t her sign that was bigger,” Beverly crowed.
Michael blinked. “Peace sign? When was this?”
“Back in 1970.”
“I was homicidal then, too,” Beverly confided. “I felt like killing Rachel for being such a weenie over a married man.”
“Divorced.”
“Separated. And not legally.”
Michael hailed the bartender. “My check please, add up all our drinks, extra olive and all.”
Beverly laid a hand on his arm. “You aren’t going anywhere yet.”
“Dear me, no,” Rachel trilled, “not after all the trouble you’ve put us to.”
Angry with himself for being curious, Michael gave them a hard look. “I’ll give you five minutes.”
It proved to be a very interesting five minutes. According to the aunts, Krista had thought to submit his doughnuts from the first practice run to the contest. Gerald made an exception to the rules because he felt there was fault on the side of the company, he in inviting the aunts into the official kitchen area, Jonathan Smithers in his rash handling of the accusation.
Michael sighed. “Despite this last-minute save, I have no illusions about my chances. The doughnuts are two days old, a tough comparison to pastry fresh out of the oven. Even if by some miracle I do win, contestants will be protesting from here to eternity.”
“The doughnuts were kept reasonably fresh in that box,” Rachel countered. “I ate three this morning and found them delicious.”
“As for the matter of favoritism,” Beverly said, “any doughnut that makes it past the panel of judges to the finals is certainly worthy of top prize. You know how dynamic Gerald is. If he declares your Kris Pineapple Kringle a winner, it shall be a hit!”
Michael did have to give them points for tenacity. “It’s a nice sentiment, but I’m fairly sure it’s all over. As humiliating as it is for me to accept, without you two, I wouldn’t even have gotten near Gerald.”
Rachel shrugged. “Well, if Beverly here hadn’t looked like his late wife, he probably wouldn’t have seen us for spit, either.”
Michael was startled. “I didn’t know that. Anyway, I appreciate your efforts and want to officially thank you. As for Krista, I especially admire her ingenuity. I was too upset to think of any kind of solution and, as usual, she stepped up to bat for me.”
Beverly smiled. “That’s the nice thing about partnerships, Michael. When one person stumbles, the other is there with a safety net.”
Rachel jerked a thumb at her sister. “Listen to her, a few days into a romance and she’s the expert.”
“I meant our partnership, Rachel,” Beverly snapped. “Look how well our collaboration has worked out.”
“Oh. Yes.”
Michael paid the tab and eased away from the bar. “When you see Krista, tell her—”
“Tell her yourself,” Rachel scoffed. “We don’t wish to get involved in your affairs.”
“Don’t wish to get involved!” He stood frozen, glaring at the pair of chins held high in the air. “I’ve come to watch my step in the shower every morning, expecting to find one of you handing me the soap!”
The very idea brought a round of chortles.
“What we mean to say,” Beverly clarified, “is that we no longer feel we have the right to be involved. Our responsibilities have been met, our debt paid.”
“Not that we like the way you’ve shown your gratitude to Krista, who knocked herself out to help you—”
“We don’t like it a bit, especially as you two are the perfect match.”
“Debts? Responsibilities? A perfect match?” He sat back up on his bar stool. “Start making sense. If you can.”
Michael sat. Accepted the drink they bought him. Listened.
“You two are the character Simona. For real?”
“For real. Krista was duping you to keep us out of trouble. In real life she is the queen of Bigtime Promotions, Ms. Big to her employees. Messing around with you is about as wild as she has ever gotten.”
It was shocking. It was comforting. It was the best news ever. “So that means that all the while I was trying to transform Krista into a lady, she was trying to behave like a—”
“Careful what you say about Simona,” Rachel snapped.
He rubbed his forehead. “You know what amazes me most about your family, is the extraordinary lengths you go to, to help one another. Because quite frankly, a lot of the time you don’t even seem to like each other!”
“That’s what a healthy family is all about,” Beverly assured him, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a cocktail napkin. “Just wiping off some peanut crumbs.”
“Guess I forgot to eat a decent meal today.”
“Well, go collect Krista and have yourself a nice dinner. Talk things over.”
“Yes, I will do that.”
Michael dashed to the nearest elevator, jammed inside with a bunch straight out of the swimming pool, and took the longest ride of his life.
“Krista!” he shouted as he burst into their suite. There was no reply, however. On the table there was a note.
As I now seem to only be in your way, I have opted to take care of my own business. If you’re ever in Minnesota and feel like talking, let me know.
K.
She was really gone. Michael had never felt so alone.
“SOMEONE TO SEE YOU, Ms. Mattson.”
“Thank you, Courtney.”
Michael watched the gum-chewing girl retreat on a swish of hip. “I think I recognize your inspiration.”
“Hello, Michael.” She sat behind her desk, dressed in a smart tweed suit and white chiffon blouse.
He, too, was dressed for success in dark wool. He slid a rectangular box onto her desk. “I’m here to see Krista Mattson’s alter ego.”
“You know very well Simona isn’t really—”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “We both know all about the elusive Simona. But I’m sworn to secrecy about her identity, so we can’t even discuss it. No, I’m talking about the formidable Ms. Big, owner of Bigtime Promotions.”
“Oh, I see.” She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “The aunts might demand confidentiality in their affairs but they certainly don’t offer it to others.”
“They do have your best interests at heart. Most of the time. Not bad old gals, really. A refreshing change for a man with no family.”
Her mouth softened. “Sorry had to miss the big dinner. But my regular sky writer was ill and I had to find a replacement, fast.”
“A sky writer emergency is a decent excuse,” Michael said with a grin. “Anyway, it was pretty much over by then. No one paid any attention to me for the rest of the evening. I crashed in my room about eleven. Slept fifteen hours. By the time I woke up, most of the conventioneers were gone.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t win the contest, Michael.”
“I am, too.”
“Thought for sure when I presented Gerald some of your first practice-run batch, you’d have a decent chance to make the finals.”
“In a way, I’m glad I didn’t make it. The way things shook out, I don’t think anyone ever would have believed I hadn’t cheated somehow—not with Gerald having the final say. We’d grown so close to him, he knew all about my entry. What means the most to me is that you tried to help, even after our quarrel.”
“I did want you to win, even if I was furious with you.”
“You don’t look mad anymore.”
“Well…” She trailed off with a smile.
“Exactly how long were you mad?”
“I’ve been back one week and four days, been better for about a week.”
“You could’ve called.”
“Oh, Michael. I really didn’t think so. Not after the way I tricked you so completely. Besides, you could’ve called me, too. You had all the facts by then, knew I was behaving like a nut for my family.”
“Your family still scares me a bit. I had to take some time to sort things through. And I’ve been very busy at work.”
“So you know the winner of the contest?”
“Not personally. Some New Yorker with a caramel doughnut. Not bad tasting, if you like caramel.”
“I like caramel.”
He smiled ruefully. “You and Gerald.”
“I hear the Larkins were runners-up.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look too happy about it.”
He played with her bronze paperweight. “It was difficult, as Norah was the one who messed with the napkin sketch and the fax. She ultimately confessed.”
“I see. So she does poke around in the briefcases she gives as gifts.”
“Yes. You called that one well in advance.”
“Must have been hard to accept that it was Norah, after all she’s meant to you.”
He nodded. “She’s assured me that she was wearing her ‘business hat’ versus her ‘surrogate mother hat’ during the convention, all in keeping the contest fair and honest.”
“That’s a crock.”
“Sadly, she’s committed to her beliefs. May never come to understand why I’ve lost faith in her.”
“Have you come to realize she might not be the model wife, after all?”
He smiled ruefully. “Yes, Krista. Her focus on Allan seemed flattering from a distance, but it certainly is that same narrow-mindedness that drove her to rivalry madness.”
“What prompted her confession?”
“In a way, it was due to your aunts.” He smiled at her surprise. “Discovering in the final hours that Beverly strongly resembles the late Gloria Stewart was the key. Remember when our party of five met the Larkins and Norquists in the lobby? As you know, only Norah and Beth got close enough to pass Gerald the napkin. By far, Norah had the most reason to freak out. Only she would have known of the resemblance, having met Gloria. Neither I nor the Norquists ever had that pleasure.”
“At the time, it did seem strong retaliation for one evening out with the boss,” she agreed. “I suppose Norah was on the edge, though, and seeing Beverly was enough to tip her over. Guess you would’ve figured it all out sooner if I’d told you of the resemblance.”
“Not long. Gerald told me at his house the night before, while he was seeking my blessing. But I was already holding so many secrets, and you were so disgusted with the aunts, that I didn’t consider telling you anything.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered in the long run. The damage was done.”
“I’m afraid I must agree.”
“So, how did the Norquists take the loss?”
“Not as bad as you might think. Allan, in his remorse over creating a self-serving monster of a wife, has given me their fifty grand in prize money. I, in turn, handed it over to my godchild Katy Norquist. Her parents fussed a bit, but Katy promptly stuffed the check in her toy purse and gave me a slurpy kiss. An even trade in anyone’s mind, so they had to accept it.”
“Seems you still have devoted friends in the Norquists.”
“A man can’t have too many good friends,” he said tenderly. “Or slurpy kisses from girls of any size.” Fighting for control, he cleared his throat and began on a more professional note. “Now, about this business with Ms. Big.”
A flash of disappointment crossed her eyes but she was careful to remain a good sport. “All right. I’m ready.” She sat up straighter.
“On behalf of the Decadent Delights Corporation, I am empowered to offer you a job as an assistant director of the new tristate territory. Minnesota, Wisconsin and Iowa are about to be introduced to the best doughnut known to mankind.”
“So that was Gerald’s expansion plan for the midwest?” she enthused. “Pretty big plans.”
“I’d say so.”
“Being that you are Gerald’s representative, is it possible that you’ve been given a top slot in this venture?”
“I am trying not to be a self-centered jerk by blowing my own horn, but yes, I have been given top slot.”
“Congratulations!” Clasping her hands together she popped up from her chair and threw his arms around him. He nearly fell off the edge of the desk as he caught her.
“So how did Gerald come to choose us for his tristate echelon?”
“We both made an impact on him at the convention,” he said matter-of-factly. “Apparently once he saw me ‘for more than spit,’ to quote Rachel, he realized my value. As for you, I imagine you’re in through nepotism, being the niece of his lady friend.”
“Very funny.”
He chuckled. “Seriously, you know you made an impressive showing the whole time. And he never did see you as anything but a promotions specialist, as you honestly claimed to be. You’re certainly in on your own merit. I stayed on at his place a few days after the convention per his request, and he couldn’t stop talking about you.”
“You and Smithers in the same town, under the same roof? What happened?”
“We’ve managed to reach a truce. He’d always held Norah in high esteem and was mortified to learn that she’d jumped the gun about my cheating. It’s made him a humbler man.”
“Speaking of the Larkins, how did the revered Allan get passed over for this expansion?”
“A little matter of his arthritis, being so intolerable to midwestern climate. If it was a lie to get himself to Vegas, it’s come back to nip him hard!”
She smiled wistfully, pressing her cheek against his. “I can hardly believe you’re here. A large part of me thought I’d never see you again. After the runaround we Mattsons gave you, I’d have understood.”
He pulled her flush against him. “Don’t think I could have stayed away for long, even if you were exactly who you pretended to be. You quickly proved addictive and very necessary. As it happens, though, your aunts gave me the sales pitch of the century back in Vegas, after confessing to be Simona themselves. Explained that in reality you were nothing more than a plain, boring workaholic.”
“Plain! Boring!”
“Krista, the very idea that I could find love with a levelheaded professional like myself is a dream come true. And we both know you’re neither plain nor boring.”
“No?” she said breathlessly.
“You’re a firecracker by day. And oh, by night, you transform into a sexy and sassy goddess that makes Simona look like an amateur.”
“I do?”
“You know you do, Ms. Big.” He smiled as she blushed. “With that in mind, I have a gift.” Positioning her back in her chair, he grabbed the box off the desk and dropped to one knee beside her. Inside the box, nestled in tissue paper, lay the pale-green glittery shoes she’d pretended to prefer back in Vegas.
“I thought you were still dreaming when you claimed to have those shoes!”
“I had ’em all the time.”
“But you hated them!”
“No, I hated the idea of anyone else seeing you in them.” Very gently he slipped off her right pump. Dipping into the box he took the right sandal and slipped it on her foot.
“What does this mean, Michael?”
“Will you marry me, Krista? Wear these shoes in my bedroom, bear me beautiful, well-behaved children, help me run an empire?”
She looked out into space as if weighing the options. “All those challenges do sound very exciting, especially the marriage proposal. As for the job offer, I do have my work here, too.”
“Oh. I suppose you could turn Gerald down.”
“Hey, don’t be so hasty. I can juggle both jobs if I hire on an assistant for Judy.”
Their eyes met in an understanding twinkle, making the solid love connection unique to a pair of hopeless workaholics.
Deftly, he slipped off her left shoe and prepared to replace it, too, with a sandal.
Krista moaned softly as his hands stroked her leg. “I’m sure arrangements can be made to satisfy…both companies.”
“I love you with all my heart. To me, you are the most fascinating woman in…the whole tristate area.”
At that moment, Courtney burst into the office followed by Judy. They stopped short at the sight of Michael on bended knee.
“Oops!” Judy halted apologetically. “Courtney thought you’d cried out my name. I didn’t know you were here, Michael.”
“Would you look at those crazy shoes!” Courtney exclaimed, scooting closer to the desk. “Are those the shoes you called me from Las Vegas about?”
Krista smiled firmly. “Get out.”
“Yes, Ms. Big.” Judy gave them a wink and a thumbs-up before hustling Courtney back out the door.
Securing her new shoes, Michael eased her chair forward and kissed her lips. “Can I call you Ms. Big, too?”
She smiled against his lips. “Why, Michael…what have you in mind?”
“Creating a fantasy that would make Simona blush, that’s what.”
“Then, please, carry on…”