Page 1 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
ChapterOne
Bethany Spinner sizedup the sassy and elegant red high heels perched on the floor by her bed. They were mocking her. Almost daring her to try, just try, slipping them on. With a determined nod she marched up to the strappy death-traps and grabbed one, wrestling open its tiny satin buckle. It was at that moment the little angel on her shoulder reminded her to sit down before going to battle with the red death-traps. But Bethany ignored that well-intentioned voice and declared that tonight would be the night she conquered the art of the one-legged shoe dance! She was an adult, for heaven's sake. And an accomplished nurse. Surely those qualifications would deem her more than equal to the task.
Now, for the hard part.
While standing up, she lifted her right foot and in her best Karate Kid pose, slipped on the shoe.
Ta-da! Bethany was still up! Take that!
She grabbed a hold of the second little devil and slowly raised her left foot—then swiped off the entire contents of her dresser top while toppling over. Her cherished vintage Strawberry Shortcake lamp stared at her with a dimpled smile as she somersaulted through the air and landed safely in Beth’s outstretched hands.
“Bethany? Is everything all right in there?” Gram called out. She was the only one who used Beth’s full first name.
“I’m fine, Gram. I’m just putting on my shoes,” Beth called back. With a groan, she blew her hair away from her face, then got up from the floor and sat at the foot of her bed, catching her breath. Good thing she hadn’t stumbled into that beast of a hope chest. How would that look on a first date? Good evening. Would you mind stopping at the emergency room before dinner?
Now if she could get those vexing straps out from between her toes.
After a few minutes of negotiations with her size eight demons, she was dressed and ready for her date.
Beth stood up, wobbled a little on the heels, smoothed her skirt, and pushed her hair out of her face. She would have pulled her hair back and up except she had learned long ago that bobby pins, hair sticks and anything else pointy near her face was a danger. Who would think you would actually need a bobby pin cut from your hair like a wad of bubble gum?
Beth touched the side of her hair, recalling how that had once been a bald spot. Bethany Spinner and Hubba Bubba didn’t get along.
Beth leaned in to the full-length mirror and swiping her finger along her lower lip line, fixed her lipstick, then leaned back for one last check. Her loose, red curls were tamed as well as expected. No matter what she did, her hair was always a little frizzy, unless of course she plastered it with a hair product that could double as wallpaper paste. Ew. She turned left and right and looked at herself from head to foot. Her little black dress was a little snugger than it had been on her last date. No need to mention how long ago that was. But it still fit and still hugged all the right places. For a woman staring middle-age in the face, she looked pretty darn good, thank you very much.
Beth entered the family room where her ailing grandmother laid on the sofa under a blanket Beth herself had crocheted, looking at her husband’s upside-down portrait on the wall. She looked tired. More tired than usual, but pointing that out wouldn’t be at all helpful. Of course, Gram would look tired. That’s what people who were dying looked like.
“What do you think, Gram?” Beth posed then wobbled on her high heels.
Gram examined Bethany from head to foot and softly smiled. Her granddaughter had been a beautiful baby, a beautiful teenager, and now she was a beautiful woman who was intelligent, perpetually optimistic, and kind, but God help her, she was the klutziest female ever to stumble across this earth. “You need something …”
“Need what? More eyeshadow?”
“No, wait until you’re my age and have a face like tree bark. Then you’ll need more makeup. You look beautiful.”
“Should I wear flat shoes instead? Do you think I’ll trip?”
The odds of Beth tripping in those heels were most certainly high. But they looked great.
“Do you have to wear black?”
“Black goes everywhere, Gram. It’s chic.”
Chic, it may be, but her red-haired granddaughter looked best in green. “Bethany, you’re a romantic to the core. That reminds me. I have something for you.” Gram sat up on the couch and shooed Beth’s hand away when she offered help. “It’s in the top drawer of the hutch.”
Beth smiled and opened the drawer to find a gift wrapped in silver paper with a green bow. By the feel, she knew it was a book, and she loved books. Excited to see what book it was, she tore it open, then gasped. A hardback edition of her favorite book!
“That paperback of yours has seen better days, so I thought you could use a backup copy.” Gram had tried to contact the author to ask for a signed book but had never received a reply, but she wouldn’t tell Bethany that.
“I love it, thank you!” Beth admired the cover, ran her fingers over the title,Under the Irish Stars. If she didn’t put it down now, she would cancel her date and read it in one sitting. She placed the book down with loving care, and grabbed her purse from the hook on the wall.
“Why are you taking your large purse? Don’t tell me—you have a book in there, don’t you?”
Beth peeked in at her favorite paperback. The last date she’d had excused himself and never came back, and the one before that. Both before dinner had even been served. If this kept up, she was going to develop a complex! “If I get ditched again, I’m staying and finishing my dinner. I don’t care if I’ll be alone and reading while eating. That’s preferable to spending an evening with a guy that doesn’t like me. And since you won’t let me cancel this date …”
“I’m going to die someday and when I do, I want to know you didn’t miss a date for me.” Gram pulled out the big guns to ensure she got her way. “It’s my dying wish.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Lauren will be here any minute now.”
