Page 91 of Fight for Me

When Juanita found out that Anne’s fiancé was coming to dinner, she’d rushed to the kitchen and had spent the better part of the afternoon cooking. The aromas drifting through the main floor made Anne’s mouth water and she was glad she was only afflicted withmorningsickness. The rest of the day she was ravenous.

Anne dressed carefully for dinner. She wanted something feminine that Blane would like, something fashionable enough for her mother, but not something her father would find objectionable. She finally settled on a deep blue Dior dress with a skirt right above the knee. It fit snugly through the bodice and torso before flaring into the skirt. With a V-neckline and short sleeves, it accentuated the positive. Anne added a push-up-push-together bra for Blane’s benefit.

Pearls again with sensible heels. She didn’t need to be walking through her parent’s house for dinner in stilettos. The stilettos could wait for the after-party, she smiled secretly to herself.

Hair was swept into an updo with strategic wisps left to trail along her neck. A bit more makeup, especially around the eyes. Itwasdinner, after all.

Okay. Time to face the music.

UnlikeFather of the Bride, she didn’t slide down the banister. Instead, she walked sedately down the curved staircase several minutes after she’d heard Blane arrive. Right on time, as expected. But a woman must always make a man wait, just a little bit. It builds the anticipation. And you always wanted the man waiting for you and not the other way round.

She heard male voices in the front receiving room—more formal than the family one—and turned that direction. Her mother headed her off at the pass.

“Darling, would you be so kind to take these hors d’oeuvres in to the gentlemen? Juanita is very busy, and I don’t want her having to serve, too.” She handed Anne a platter of tiny puff pastry hors d’oeuvres filled with different yummy things, cocktail plates, forks, and napkins.

“Of course, Mom.”

Anne took the tray and made her way to the front receiving room. Both men stood as she entered. She offered them each hors d’oeuvres, which they obligingly took. In return, Blane filled her wineglass with Pellegrino. She settled next to Blane on the loveseat.

“So Blane,” her father began gruffly, “Anne says you’re a politician. Used to be a lawyer.”

Her dad was playing the Never-Heard-Of-You card. She mentally rolled her eyes.

“Yes, sir. Grew up in Massachusetts before moving to Indianapolis when my parents passed. Was in the Navy for a while, then practiced law until I inherited my uncle’s senate seat. Then ran and won the seat on my own after that.”

“Any baggage? Ex-wives? Kids?”

“Daddy!” Anne wanted to fall through the floor. Blane was well into his thirties and her father was grilling him like they were seventeen and it was prom night.

Blane ignored her. “No, sir.”

She could’ve kissed him for how well he was taking this.

“And I understand you’ve asked my daughter to marry you.” Her father was implacable. The consummate businessman who had built his fortune from the ground up.

Anne could only heave an internal sigh and let it happen.

“I have. My sincere apologies for not asking you first for her hand, sir.”

Anne felt as though she’d regressed to a time period of about a hundred years ago. But she held her tongue.

Her dad hmphed. Anne abruptly stood and offered the hors d’oeuvres again. If their mouths were full of food, they couldn’t talk, which was a good thing.

Her mother entered the room and her dad immediately stood and went to pour her a cocktail. She liked champagne spritzers. Sitting in the Queen Anne chair by her dad, she graciously accepted the drink.

“Thank you, darling.”

Crossing one elegant leg over another, she bestowed a smile on Blane. “I must say, Senator, we are quite happy with our daughter’s choice of husband. And we are over the moon that we’ll be grandparents.”

Anne took that opportunity to slip on her engagement ring. “Mom, did I show you the gorgeous ring Blane got me?” She rose and went to her mother who did the appropriate oohing and aahing. “Isn’t it lovely?”

Thankfully, Juanita came in then to announce dinner.

Things gradually relaxed, as Anne and her mother talked wedding plans and the men discussed business and politics. Juanita served a starter of seared scallop, a mixed green salad with pumpkin seeds, cilantro, and a lime cilantro vinaigrette that Anne devoured with genteel gluttony. The main course was beef wellington, cooked to perfection, the pastry a perfect golden brown, with a side of creamy mashed potatoes with just a hint of roasted garlic, and string beans with bits of bacon.

Juanita certainly knew how to cater to the men’s taste, though Anne wasn’t complaining. The beef wellington practically melted in her mouth.

It was after the main course that the subject of Blane’s candidacy came up.

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