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Tired from travel, I text back. Taking a nap. OK?
He sends a thumbs-up. Dinner’s at 7.
That’s me off the hook for, ooh, another couple of hours. I scoot back, grab a blanket that just has to be cashmere, and sink into a delicious nap.
You know, to prepare for my second attempt at impressing Dash’s grandmother. I guess one good thing about my earlier stunning failure is that the only way to go is up.
* * *
Thanks to the wonders of an outrageously expensive mattress, I awaken from my nap feeling like I slept on a cloud—and ready to go toe-to-designer-sandal-clad-toe with Zelda herself. Dash didn’t say anything about dinner being formal, but one look at that banquet table downstairs has told me that you can never be too overdressed in this house.
Besides, I’ve got some compensating to do for that whole ‘drowned rat’ incident, so I pick out one of my nicest sundresses, the one with little navy straps that tie on my shoulders in a bow. I slip my feet into strappy sandals, and spend a little extra time on my makeup, before heading downstairs, ready for battle.
I’m on a mission here: To win over Zelda, enough to loosen her grip on those trust purse strings, anyway. Surely that won’t be so hard? I was caught off-balance before—literally—but if I can charm the ladies of Fleishman’s into opening their pocketbooks at the store every day, then I can sure as hell do it here.
After all, what’s my philosophy for sales? Make someone feel so good about themselves, they’ll be happy to splash out the cash to recreate that feeling. Figure out the problem they’re trying to solve, and offer the best, easiest solution. Win-win.
So the million-dollar question is, how can I make Zelda feel good about mine and Dash’s budding relationship?
Whatever the answer is, I better lay it on thick if we’re going to pull this off.
I enter the dining room, and find Dash, Piper, and Zelda already there. I clock their dressy outfits and breathe a sigh of relief that I got the dress code right this time.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I flash a smile at Zelda. “Dash told me seven for dinner.”
“You’re right on time,” she gives an approving nod. “We were just taking our seats.”
“You look great, babe.” Dash gives me a kiss on the cheek in greeting.
“So do you, sugar-pie,” I coo back, getting into ‘doting girlfriend’ mode. His jaw twitches in amusement, but he manages to keep a straight face.
When I first spotted the castle-sized table, I’d half-expected Zelda to stick me at the far end by myself while she headed the other end like a modern-day queen. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not to find that we’re all seated together in a cozy little cluster. The scent of garlic and butter and roasting meat wafts through, and I realize I haven’t eaten since the airport.
“It smells amazing,” I comment with a smile.
“Claude does a wonderful job,” Zelda smiles back, as a dark-haired man dressed in electric blue leggings, a black cowboy hat, and a hot pink apron that says, “This Chef Likes it Spicy,” carries platters of food out.
I blink. Dash mentioned that his grandmother could be a little eccentric at times, but I thought he was exaggerating.
Apparently not.
“Thank you, Claude,” Zelda says, as he serves us. I look to Dash, but he just sips his water like this is totally normal dinner behavior.
OK then.
“So, tell us about yourself, Callie, wasn’t it?” Zelda announces, as we dig into a delicious shrimp appetizer. “Is that short for anything?”
“Yes, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I reply cheerfully. “Although, it’s not any worse than Phineas,” I say, nudging Dash.
Zelda quirks an eyebrow. “Phineas was my first husband’s name.”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. Whoops. “It’s a very… distinctive name.”
“Distinctively terrible,” Dash snorts. “Don’t let her fool you, I only got saddled with it to get on his good side. Even she won’t call me that, unless I’ve been very naughty.”
“So all the time then?” I quip.
Piper laughs from across the table. “Where did you grow up?” she asks, smiling. It’s nice to know there’s another friendly face at the table, but then Zelda speaks up, too.
