Page 117 of Giddy Up, Daddy

“I am serious.” If looks could kill, his would have. “I’m tired of you getting caught in the middle of every scandal on the upper east side. I’ve been bailing you out of your wacky schemes for years, waiting on you to grow up. But you’re almost thirty, Eleanor, and I’m still waiting.”

“Don’t call me that,” I grumble. Elle is the nickname my father gave me as a child and had long since been the only name I went by. He’s the only one who ever calls me Eleanor and he only ever does that when he’s mad at me. Today, he’s livid. Madder than I’ve ever seen him, and considering my teenage years, that’s saying a lot.

“Brock’s indiscretions are not my fault, Father! I broke off the engagement. What more do you want from me?”

My father scowls, shuffles some folders around on his desk, and picks up a copy of today’s paper from the mess, all but slamming it down in front of me. I wince, already knowing what it says.

When I’d caught my fiancé in bed with another woman, I’d mistakenly thought it was a surprise threesome and climbed in bed with them. How the papers had gotten wind of it, I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t put tipping off the media himself past Brock. Anything to stay relevant. And hey if he could make a few bucks in the process…

I think about all the stories that had run about me over the years and how often I’d shown up in the tabloids since we’d gotten together. The media interest had exponentially increased after he came into my life. I’d thought it was just a coincidence, but now I’m wondering if he’d been the one feeding the tabloids the whole time. It made sense now how they always seemed to show up when we were out and about, whether it was just me going dress shopping or attending a meeting of this or that committee or the two of us going out on a date.

I see it now. I’d been blind. And stupid. Still, there’s no reason for how my father is currently treating me. And while he’s threatened to cut me off before, this time feels serious. Which means I really need to kiss up to get my dad over whatever kick he’s on.

“You can’t cut me off, Father. Be serious. I need the support of my family during this difficult time.”

“I’ve done nothing but support you for your entire life, and where has it gotten you? I was happy when you got engaged to Brock because I thought you’d finally settle down and become a proper member of society.”

“Well, excuse me for not staying with someone who cheated on me!” I holler, then soften, changing tactics. “Father, I’m so sorry I’ve been such a disappointment. You’re right. I’m almost thirty now, and it's far past time to get my life together. I’ll heed your advice and start doing that immediately. I’ll get a real job. Perhaps you have some contacts you could set me up with?”

“No. Eleanor, this discussion is over. Get your life together. Prove to me you can make it on your own without Daddy’s money before your thirtieth birthday and you’ll get your trust. If you can’t manage that, you’ll be cut off for good.” He points at the door, and when I stand, blinking as I try desperately to process what had just happened, he adds, “Your rent is paid through the end of next month. I suggest you get other living arrangements figured out before then.” He looks at me one last time, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of softness there. “You should probably look into that thing Sadie did. Move to that town where they pay women to live there. I don’t know how you’ll make it otherwise.”

“But… but…” I stand sputtering in the doorway, waiting for my father to come to his senses and realize how unreasonable he is being. Instead, he strides across the room and shuts the door, very firmly, in my face.

And as the blast of air hits me, I realize he’s right. Doing what Sadie did is pretty much my only option, no matter how crazy or archaic it may be.

Looks like I’m going to Blue River.

Chapter Four

Elle

Two weeks after my father cut me off, I’m sitting in Sadie’s matchmaking office in the town of Blue River, clear on the other side of the country. It’s culture shock going from the Big Apple to Podunk, USA, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Sadie’s here, and I really missed her. The town is pretty enough, even though there’s always the faint smell of cow shit in the air if the wind picks up just right.

There’s also the ocean, just ten miles out of town, and up the coast a bunch of adorable seaside towns full of kitschy shops and mom-and-pop restaurants. And though I miss New York, and Barneys and Serendipity and Saks, I can’t sneeze at the free apartment, even if it is barely the size of my bedroom back home. The monthly stipend is the same amount I’d usually spend on a nice dress, but the money goes further here, and it’s not like there’s a lot to spend it on.

But the best part of Blue River is the men. The unofficial town nickname for them is the Blue River Beefcakes. And it fits. I haven’t seen a man who isn’t absolutely drool-worthy in that rugged blue-collar way, that puts the uppity well-dressed men in the city to shame.

And though I’m still nursing a bruised ego from my recent explosive breakup, I’m ready to move on. It may be archaic, and backward, but there’s nothing that will make my father consider that I’ve turned a corner to responsibility faster than settling down with a good man.

And that’s why I’ve come to see Sadie at work today, with the little bit of money I managed to eke out from expenses and the few thousand I brought with me for emergencies. I thought she’d be excited to have me as a client, but she’s been sitting here shaking her head at me this whole time. And she won’t give me a reason. She just keeps saying no. I’m starting to get a little offended if I’m being honest.

Scowling, I tell her so.

It doesn’t seem to change her mind. She pins me with a hard look. “Just how much exploring have you done around Blue River?” she asks.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just answer.”

I shrug. The truth is, aside from a few walks around the town with Sadie, a trip to the thrift shops to get things for my apartment, and another to the grocery store, I haven’t explored that much. I spent the first week in town feeling sorry for myself. Next week I’m supposed to start a job at the county paper. I’m not looking forward to it. Working Woman isn’t something I ever planned to call myself. I’m hoping the distraction of hot sex with a good man will make the adjustment less painful. I don’t explain any of that, and instead just grovel.

“Pleeeeaseee, Sadie,” I cajole. “You know what they say. The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one.” The surprising truth is, I’m all that broken up about ending my engagement with Brock. It kind of felt like a relief. I don’t want to inspect the reasons why.

My best friend frowns, her brows scrunching so tightly together they nearly meet in the center of her forehead. “I don’t know, Elle. I think you should give it some time. Get out some. See if anything happens naturally.”

I pull a face. “You know, you’re a terrible matchmaker.” I open my wallet and extract a small pile of bills, waving the hundreds in front of her.

Before she can respond, the bell on the door behind us jingles announcing a client, or maybe the mailman, and my attention swings in that direction. My eyes meet those of the hottest man I have ever seen.

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