Betty Jo Schuler

Finding Mr. Romantic

Chapter One

Celeste Harte glared at the twenty-nine candles on her birthday cake. She'd squandered her last fourteen birthday wishes on a fairy tale romance, and her life still read like an instruction manual. The frog she'd hoped would turn into a prince...God rest his soul...was a cheating toad. Leaning her hands on her glass-topped kitchen table, she puffed out her cheeks and blew. I wish I'd meet a man who would turn my life into a sizzling romance novel.

"Easy." Marianne Joest raised an auburn brow as she swiped cream frosting from her blouse with a manicured nail. Closing her eyes, she sucked her fingertip. "Mm. Next best thing to an orgasm."

"My life is half over, I haven't made love in I-can't-remember-when, and you talk about orgasm?"

Marianne cut two slices of cake and handed her one. Celeste shook her head. "It's loaded with fat."

"Dammit, Cee. This is carrot cake, a vegetable with frosting. You're thin enough no matter what Harry said, and twenty-nine isn't the beginning of menopause." Reaching into her oversized straw bag, Marianne pulled out a bottle of chilled champagne and two crystal glasses. She popped the cork on the bubbly. "It's time to...live."

Cee dipped a finger into a fat icing rose and savored its creamy sweetness. She could always count on Marianne. Champagne, cake, and a silver-wrapped package with a violet bow, their boutique's signature wrapping. Her best friend, business partner, and next-door neighbor knew how to make an occasion special. "I wish I could find a man with as much romance in his soul."

"You can't find a plum between the oranges and escarole at the market. Or one of those boring women's thingies. And that guy you went out with the other night..." Marianne closed her eyes and faked a snore.

"He was an old friend, and safe." Cee made a face. "I went out with him once and that was enough."

"That said, let's drink to men you'd like to see again and again." Marianne filled their champagne glasses and raised hers. "Exciting, romantic, dangerously handsome men."

Cee downed her champagne and stared into the moisture at the bottom of her glass. Did such a man exist? If so, would he look twice at her? The bubbles danced and swirled in her head, creating a warm glow that pooled down low.

If she found Mr. Romance, she'd make sure he did.

***

Celeste sang along with the radio as she cruised down the road. The steering wheel of the RV felt cool and solid beneath her palms. The air conditioner hummed against the late June day. Buttery seats exuded a rich leather smell. The purring of this rented beast gave her a feeling of control.

Tossing her newly highlighted hair, she glanced down at her brief red shorts. A departure from Capris, they showed off her long legs, tanned from springtime gardening. Compared to her intimate MG, the motor home felt huge, but the sure response of the pedals beneath her sandaled feet had lulled her into tranquility. The six-hour drive from Montclair lay behind her in a four-lane ribbon of highway.

Adventure lay ahead. She'd loved camping when she was in school. Girl Scout Camp...cheerleading...even French Camp. Her camping experiences ended abruptly when she and Marianne crawled under the fence to the boys' side of Senior High Church Camp. Best friends since childhood, her next-door neighbor and business partner now, Marianne was as free-spirited as ever. First, Cee's father and then, her husband Harry stamped out her spirit, but it was back now. Stronger and better than ever.

With her fortieth birthday on the horizon, Celeste Joy Bachman Harte was throwing inhibition to the winds, just as she had her late husband's ashes. She chuckled. It was time to live and...love...again.

Spotting her exit, she eased the RV onto a two-lane road where traffic was light and the setting rural. Cows grazed in grassy fields. Farmhouses with open windows welcomed the afternoon sun and breezes. Faded road signs told half a Burma Shave story, the other half disappearing into a lanky growth of weeds alongside the road.

The class ring she'd dug out for the occasion felt odd and bulky, and she slipped it off and into a cubbyhole on the dash. She'd left her diamond ring at home so no one would mistake her for an engaged woman. Engaging, okay, but not pledged to anyone.

Lowering the window, she inhaled the sweet smell of alfalfa. This week would be cleansing as well as fun. She'd write letters resigning from the civic committees that dominated her free time. Browse college catalogs for night classes to take in the fall. Climb high hills. Breathe fresh air. Revamp her plans for the future. Free to be me, she'd live life for herself instead of others.

Since Harry's death four years ago, she'd been the best darned, stand-in "mom" to his sister, Susan, possible. But Suz was eighteen now and ready to leave the nest. If she had her way, she'd marry her boyfriend Mark. If Cee had hers, she'd go to college.

A larger, bolder wooden sign popped into view as she rounded a gentle curve. "NEW BEGINNINGS. One mile ahead." She laughed aloud, in delight.

Finding Mr. Romantic, continued >>> | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |