The Cinderella Deal - Jennifer Crusie [36]
Oh, boy. “Because I wouldn’t wear diamonds. He gave me my own checking account to do whatever I want with. And he wants me to paint full-time. He calls me Magnolia. And”—Daisy searched desperately for something else that was true that would make Linc look good—“and he’s never been married before. And he bought me this darling little Victorian house and told me I can decorate it any way I want, and—”
“Oh, Daisy, he sounds wonderful.” Pansy began to cry again.
Good, Daisy thought, because I was running out of things to say. I was down to the Nazi car and furniture, and that would have been bad.
“Yoo-hoo!”
“And this is Chickie and Gertrude!” Daisy made the introductions as cheerily as possible. Gertrude took being called by her first name fairly well for a prison warden. Chickie and Pansy sized each other up, two southern belles not happy to share the charm sweepstakes.
“Gotta get my dress!” Daisy swept them all off to the car, cursing Linc, who was safe in Prescott.
“Now, for your flowers I think you should have roses,” Chickie said as they drove down the interstate. “Pink roses.”
“Roses? Do you think so, Chickie?” Pansy’s voice was sweet from the backseat. “It just seems like everyone has roses. How about lilies, honey?”
“Lilies?” Daisy turned to look at her mother in the back beside Gertrude. “I thought lilies were for funerals.”
“No, no.” Pansy turned her little nose up. “Lilies are elegant.”
“Carnations are inexpensive and hold their bloom for a reasonable amount of time,” Gertrude said.
Oh, no, Daisy thought. Don’t let this be happening. “Daisies,” she said. “I want daisies.”
“Oh, honey, no,” Pansy began, but Daisy cut her off.
“Linc wants me to have daisies.”
“Oh, well, then.” Pansy sounded doubtful. “Maybe with some baby’s breath …”
“And a few pink rosebuds …” Chickie agreed.
“And some baby carnations,” Daisy said to appease Gertrude. “Why don’t we wait until we get the dress?”
“Well, I’m sure we can agree on the cake.” Chickie looked over at Daisy. “White, of course.”
“But men always like chocolate,” Pansy protested. “Wouldn’t Linc like chocolate, Daisy?”
“Linc doesn’t like sweets,” Daisy said.
“Lincoln used to like walnut cake,” Gertrude said. “He was quite fond of it.”
“Pumpkin cake,” Daisy said desperately. “Pumpkin cake with walnuts and cream cheese icing.”
“Pumpkin cake?” Chickie said, puzzled.
“Pumpkin cake?” Pansy said, shocked.
Gertrude didn’t say anything, perhaps because of the walnuts.
“It’s a … private joke,” Daisy said weakly. “Like Cinderella. Linc would like it.”
“Oh, well, then.” Pansy still sounded doubtful.
“Well, your colors can still be pink and white,” Chickie said.
“Blue and white,” Pansy said.
“Yellow and white,” Gertrude said. “Lincoln likes yellow.”
Well, at least his mother’s showing some animation, Daisy thought. If they get to kicking and screaming and pulling hair, my money’s on her. She smiled at all three women as impartially as possible, the way she knew Daisy Blaise would smile.
Daisy Flattery would have jumped out of the car and run for it.
Linc came down the stairs when he heard her come in. “How bad was it?”
Daisy dropped her bags on the floor and glared at him. “You owe me.”
He winced. “I knew it.”
“You never told me you liked walnut cake.”
Linc frowned at her. “I hate walnut cake.”
“Your mother says you like walnut cake.”
“What?” Linc looked shocked. “My mother never let us eat cake. Walnut cake?”
“She also thinks my flowers should be carnations, my dress should be polyester, and our color for the wedding should be yellow.”
“My mother said all that?” Linc ran his hand through his hair. “My mother?”
Daisy sat down beside him, too tired to be mad anymore. “We’re all eating together at the inn tonight.” She leaned against him, grateful for his shoulder. “Make reservations for six.” Linc stiffened. “Six?”
“The Crawfords, Pansy, Gertrude, and us.”
“I’m sorry I lied, God.” Linc looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I tried to pass this woman off as my fiancée last spring. Please stop punishing me.”
Daisy went