Mine 'Til Monday by Ruby Laska Page B

only fulfilling a duty. That in twenty-four hours, he would be out of her life again.
    “Oh my dear, you look spectacular!”
    Miranda greeted her from the back patio, arms outstretched. Dorothy accepted a kiss and returned the embrace, grateful for the woman’s warm reception.
    “No, you’re the one who looks captivating,” she said, and it was true. Miranda’s still-svelte figure was draped in a long stretch of silver that ended inches from the ground, her only adornment eye-popping diamond stud earrings.
    “Oh, this old thing?” Miranda teased. “Come, dear, let’s see if we can scare up a bit of champagne.”
    Inside, tuxedoed waiters made final preparations. Small tables dotted the broad sun porch; to the side, a long table held a lavish buffet. Silver buckets laden with creamy white roses rested on each table, and a jazz trio was warming up in a corner, their soft laughter spilling into short bursts of music.
    “Oh, Miranda,” Dorothy breathed. “It’s...wonderful! “
    “Oh, my, it’s not all that,” Miranda replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “When Walter was alive, we’d have the whole house filled with people. We used to roll up the carpets, years ago, and dance...” For a moment her eyes lost their focus, softening at the memory.
    Then a passing waiter caught her attention.
    “Some champagne, please, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said.
    In seconds they each held a crystal flute of amber champagne. Dorothy drank deeply. “Delicious,” she said.
    “Now what have you done with that darling boy?”
    Miranda’s tone was teasing, but Dorothy’s breath caught in her throat. She had to be careful.
    “Oh, you know how men are,” she said, feigning humor. “Waiting until the last minute to get ready. He’ll be here soon.”
    “Well, I’m glad you came over by yourself, as a matter of fact, dear,” Miranda said.
    “You are?”
    “Yes. There’s something I was wondering about.”
    Dorothy felt her heart quicken.
    “About what Mud was saying earlier. I’m afraid he may have given you an inaccurate view of his business. He can be so modest, you know, and—”
    Miranda wagged a hand dismissively. “No, it isn’t Mud. He seems like a bit of a maverick, but I can respect that in a man. To be honest, making toilet parts is not something I would be particularly inclined to pursue either. And the fact that he’s already in the sporting goods business dovetails nicely with Finesse, don’t you think?”
    Dumbfounded, Dorothy could only nod.
    “What I want to talk about, dear, is you . Your motivations. Your family. Where you see yourself. How you might fit in at Finesse.”
    Dorothy gulped. “Working for you, Miranda, would be my greatest achievement so far,” she said honestly.
    “I don’t doubt your ability,” Miranda replied quickly. “I’ve kept my eye on you, and you’re one of a kind. I don’t doubt that you could take Finesse to the next level.”
    But . Dorothy waited, sure she heard some unspoken hesitation in Miranda’s voice.
    She was right. Miranda twisted her champagne glass carefully in her slim fingers, then regarded Dorothy thoughtfully.
    “Your parents are academics, Dorothy. Scientists. And you’re every bit intelligent enough to follow in their footsteps. Why haven’t you?”
    The question surprised Dorothy. She had been prepared to defend her qualifications, her track record, her career goals. But it never occurred to her that Miranda might question her desire, her motivation.
    As her mind raced to frame an answer that would most enhance her goals, something gave way in Dorothy. Suddenly she was weary of manipulating the truth, of twisting things around to fit the profile of what Miranda was looking for. The burden of the ruse with Mud had exhausted her, and she longed to tell the truth. The simple truth.
    But suddenly the truth wasn’t simple. Not really.
    “I—I did want to be like them. At first.”
    Miranda encouraged her with a small nod and