“This is true love. You think this happens every day?”
Westley, The Princess Bride
Stephanie Rochester didn't need anyone to tell her she was a fool. At this precise moment she knew she was the worst kind of fool. The kind that could never seem to learn from her mistakes. At fifteen, she had reached the conclusion that she must have used up her entire lifetime allotment of mistakes and was now robbing someone else of theirs. She reasoned that was why some people led charmed lives. Because people like her robbed them of their mistakes.
Watching the dancers strutting and gyrating to the latest dance beats, she sighed and sadly shook her head. Even her new friend, Trey Sinclair, was dancing with someone else. She had promised herself that she would never attend another dance unless she had a date, but her friends had coaxed and cajoled until she'd finally surrendered. Now they were all out on the dance floor while she was nursing her third Coke in the past hour. And she really had to go pee.
Sliding her chair back, she stood and made her way through the crowd of tables and bodies until she emerged into the lobby and went in search of the ladies room. She passed other girls walking in pairs and groups and she smiled whenever she thought someone was looking at her. But there were no answering smiles. A lifetime of hiding her hurt feelings kept her expression neutral even as those feelings fought for escape. The battle was a grim one.
Inside the ladies room, she found herself second in line waiting for a stall to open. She tried to ignore the full length mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Reality was hard enough without any reminders of her shortcomings. She made a disgusted sound under her breath. Or her large-comings, for that matter. But she found herself looking anyway.
Stephanie was one of those unfortunate girls with “a pretty face” and a “great personality.” The kinds of descriptions guaranteed to strike terror in the hearts of any boys whose mommas uttered them. Now she stared at her reflection and conceded that maybe her face was pretty, but it was also rather moon-shaped with a double chin, and her fine, mousie-brown hair that her mother had cut into a pixie style looked as if it was simply glued to her head and did absolutely nothing to improve her appearance. Her only redeeming features were her high cheekbones and forest green eyes.
Those eyes slowly followed her dumpy, pear-shaped image down. She was torn between shame for the hideously old-fashioned rose-pink dress she was wearing, and guilt because her mother had searched countless thrift stores then worked so hard to alter it to fit her. After her father's last deployment, his inability to work coupled with his significant medical expenses meant they lived a hand-to-mouth existence on just her mother's pay as a legal secretary and what little he was receiving in disability. It was yet another reason she hadn't really wanted to come to the dance. She knew her parents couldn't afford even a cheap dress or even the cost of going. But her mom had overheard Lucy and Katie trying to talk her into going with them and insisted that Stephanie go. The next day she'd found the dress and a pair of white sandals in a local clothes ministry, and...Stephanie shook her head. What could she have said? Within the churning confusion of guilt and embarrassment, she was also so filled with love for her parents that it added its own brand of pain to the mix. The last thing she wanted was to add to their burdens and yet it seemed it was something she was predestined to do in spite of her best efforts.
A stall door opened and the girl ahead of her disappeared inside, allowing Stephanie to move forward a few inches to where she didn't have to look at her image any longer. But her thoughts didn't falter. Not for the first time she promised herself that her parents weren't going to have to live like this for the rest of their lives. She may not have been blessed with beauty, but she knew she was smart and she knew she had creative talent. She would find a way to get them all out of this hole war had forced them into. She didn't know how, but she'd do it or die trying.
Fifteen years later...
“So, Steph, how's it feel to be gainfully unemployed?”
Stephanie grinned at the private joke as she adjusted the placement of a porcelain urn on its dais.
“Better than ungainfully employed.” She eyed the urn. “Does this look okay to you?”
Gerald, her publicist, cocked his bald brown head to one side and pursed his full lips. He was a tall, muscular man who had lettered in rugby in college.
“It's beautiful, darling, one of your best yet.”
“You say that every time.”
“And I mean it every time. Honestly, Steph, your work just keeps getting, keeps getting...hell! Better doesn't even begin to describe it!”
“Thank you, Gerald,” she replied wryly.
The big man snorted.
“Now don't take that tone with me! You've known me long enough to know that if I don't like something I'll tell you I don't like it.”
“Something I'm well aware of and thankful for.”
“Just so you remember that. Now!” He glanced at the elegant, very expensive watch gracing his thick wrist, “You best be getting upstairs and finished dressing. Guests will start arriving in two hours and they are going to be expecting a full star, not a mere sparkler, pretty though it may still be.”
“Are you sure Trey knows...?”
“He's on his way to the airport to pick your parents up as we speak. Now, shoo! Go on! Go get ready.”
Later that evening, Trey watched Stephanie charm her way through the throng of well-heeled fans eager to meet the woman who created such breathtaking beauty using mere clay, before leaving a single distinctive Luna moth motif as her signature on each glazed piece. He knew she didn't particularly like having showings, which was why she did so few of them, and then nearly always as fundraisers for causes she believed in. But one would never know that by watching her.
Tonight she seemed to shimmer in her understated designer gown. There were no signs of the awkward girl she had once been. Summers spent working in rehabilitation hospitals had taught her the value of good nutrition and exercise, so she glowed with health and vitality. After “discovering” her at a college art show, Gerald had taken her under his protective wing and began grooming her, preparing her for the fame he knew was coming her way. With his guidance, she'd learned the careful art of using makeup to enhance, never to overdo, and to choose what fashions suited her petite, gently rounded figure best, though her preferred attire consisted of the tee shirts and jeans she wore while she was working. She'd grown her hair long and now wore it up in a sophisticated chignon. The stilettos she hated and regarded as part of her “uniform” only raised her up to average height but, oh my god, did they ever bring out the sexy in her!
His gaze moved to a quieter part of the gallery where her parents were seated, her father in his power wheelchair and her mother close beside him, with his caregiver discretely nearby in case he was needed. They were talking to Gerald, their faces wreathed with smiles and pride, the very same emotions that filled him. This was a big night for her. A major showing with many celebrities and power brokers in attendance. Stephanie had done them all proud with her extraordinary talent and determination to pull her family out of the miserable place they had been in as a result of her father's catastrophic injuries in Afghanistan. They now lived comfortably in a new home built to accommodate her quadriplegic father's special needs and he received the best of round the clock care. Gone were the dark days of isolation and and dangerous depression. He was now an active part of the veteran community in their hometown. A mentor and inspiration to other vets who had suffered severe mental and physical injuries of their own.
She was a superstar in the art world and admirers flocked to her showings. Most were tony affairs by invitation only, but Stephanie, being Stephanie, also insisted on a number of quieter events especially for those whose positions in life wouldn't ordinarily gain them entry. Rather than exclusive galleries like this one, they were usually held in schools and community centers where she offered smaller, yet just as exquisite pieces at prices more easily afforded by those who weren't comfortable in tuxes and evening gowns. On occasion, she had even been known to make gifts of some of them. Those events were closed to anyone not living in the immediate community to keep the “rich riffraff,” as Gerald referred to them, out. She was known for her generosity of spirit, outspoken views on progressive education, and staunch support of military service members. She was especially vocal on behalf of wounded warriors like her father, and had taken many opportunities to use her artist's clout to lobby for their improved care.
He returned his attention to her as she laughed obligingly at some remark made by the pompous gallery owner whose rotund form could never have fit in an off-the-rack tux. The little gray moth, as she still referred to herself, once shy and self-conscious, had grown into a lovely Luna: much less common than a butterfly and, in his opinion, hauntingly beautiful in a unique way. And he had loved her to distraction since high school.
Unfortunately she saw him only as a good friend at best and a brother at worst, two things that were chafing him more and more as time passed. How long could he continue to play those roles in order to preserve the friendship that was at the core of their relationship before he ruined it in some way?
As she continued to laugh, her eyes met his in a silent plea for help and he, being the friend that he was, went to her rescue.
It was well past midnight by the time the final guest departed and the gallery closed for the evening, leaving behind discrete “sold” cards on every piece in the showing. Stephanie, Trey, and her parents thanked the gallery owner, said goodnight to Gerald, and made their way to the limousine that awaited them at the curb. From there they were returned to the boutique hotel on the outskirts of downtown that Stephanie favored over the finer, five star establishment in the center of town. After wishing her parents good night near their handicap-accessible room off the lobby, Stephanie and Trey forestalled the elevator and made their way up the elegant stairway to the second floor where they shared a two bedroom suite. Trey gritted his teeth as he closed the door behind them. Just like brother and sister.
Stephanie groaned as she kicked off her high heels and collapsed heavily on the Victorian-style sofa.
“Lord but I'm glad that's over!”
Trey grunted in response as he removed his coat and tie.
“It was an unqualified success, as usual.”
She eyed him dubiously.
“You don't sound too happy about that.”
“On the contrary, I'm ecstatic.”
“You don't sound like it.”
“Well, I am. The kids in the foster system will be happy to receive the laptops and other school supplies you've bought for them, and the children's hospital will no doubt want to name the new wing after you.”
“I only wish I could do more.”
Typically, her mind was on the kids themselves, and he nodded solemnly as he removed his onyx cuff links.
“I know you do, but this isn't a perfect world. We can only do what we can.”
She sighed.
“I know.” She turned her attention back to him. “Are you upset with me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
His own sigh was short and heavy.
“Yes, I am.” He paused. “I'm just tired. It's been a long night.”
Stephanie nodded before rising to her feet.
“Yes, it has been.” She bent to pick up her shoes. “Then if you're really not upset with me I'll turn in. I'll see you in the morning.”
He watched as she made her way to her bedroom, grateful she couldn't see the frustrated longing he was sure must be written on his face.
“Good night, Steph.”
She turned to answer and surprised a fleeting glimpse of his emotions before he succeeded in cloaking them behind a neutral expression. Her heart skipped a beat in surprise.
“Good night, Trey,” she replied quietly, uncertainly, before she closed the door behind her.
~
Months passed during which Stephanie became engrossed in preparing for the upcoming holiday season. Though she and Trey spoke often, she began to suspect he was avoiding spending any time with her. When she mentioned his long absences, however, he'd explained his promotion was requiring him to spend more time in the field. Given that he was a geologist by profession she was accustomed to his fieldwork, but she hadn't realized that becoming a consultant would require even more of his time away. And she missed him terribly when he was gone.
She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right between them. Nor could she forget his expression that night after the last show, when she had surprised naked passion in his eyes. It had gone almost as soon as she saw it, and she'd tried unsuccessfully to convince herself she'd been mistaken. But the truth was it had ignited a growing need in her as well. She'd loved him forever it seemed but he'd never given her any hint he felt the same way. Until the night of that last showing.
Trey returned from his latest trip the week before Christmas obviously tired and uncharacteristically irritable. Stephanie suffered his sharp comments and rotten attitude as long as she could until the day when she called to ask if he'd like to meet her for lunch.
“Hell, no!” He snapped, “ I've a ton of things to get done before I leave again!”
“And just when will that be?” she demanded in reply, the tight control she'd held for days slipping, “I sure as hell hope it won't be long because I'm getting sick and tired of being your verbal punching bag. What is it with you anyway?”
There was a long pause as she waited for his reply.
“I'm coming over,” he finally warned and hung up.
She pitched a throw pillow across the room, her artistic temper breaking free. Then she picked it up and pitched it again, this time in the opposite direction, before retreating to her small office off the sun room she used for her studio. Once there, she rummaged in her desk before coming up with her stash of M&Ms. It was a large-size bag intended for sharing. She had a feeling she was going to need every candy.
Trey arrived a half hour later, slamming the front door after letting himself in. She met him in the foyer, her temper only slightly improved after several handfuls of candy.
“Okay, let's have it,” she demanded, not letting him stalk any further, “What bee crawled up your ass in Montana?”
“No bee crawled up my ass that hasn't been there for a long, long time,” he bellowed, his own temper not having cooled.
“Must be a helluva hornet then!”
“Damn straight!”
They glared at one another for a moment before he took a breath, obviously reaching for some semblance of control.
“You don't get it, do you?”
“Get what? That you're being a son-of-bitch? I sure hope you're not treating anyone else the way you've been treating me!”
He took another breath before reaching into his jeans pocket and pitching a small package, wrapped for Christmas, at her.
“Maybe this will enlighten you!”
She caught it in midair and did a double take. It was obviously a ring box.
“What's this”
“Your Christmas present.”
She stared at him, anger giving way to wary confusion.
“My present?”
“Yeah. Open it!”
There was a long pause as their eyes met before she carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside she found a velvet box and again their eyes met, and for the first time she recognized the frustration behind his tirade. She also saw a glimmer of anxiety and her heart began to thud heavily.
“I've been carrying that for months waiting for Christmas to give it to you.”
Slowly she opened the box and found a square cut ruby surrounded by small diamonds sparkling up at her. She looked up at him in shock.
“Trey?”
He stepped closer to her and took the box from her hand.
“I've loved you since we were kids,” he groused, “and I'm tired of hiding it.”
He then looked up and into her eyes.
“I love you, dammit! I want to marry you!”
She continued to stare at him then shook her head in wonder.
“I never knew. Never realized.”
“And now?”
She smiled for the first time.
“I realize it.”
“And?”
“I'll think about it.”
He drew a deep breath.
“You have five seconds.”
She quickly counted to five, her forest green eyes growing misty even as she grinned.
“Okay, I've thought about it.”
For the first time she saw a smile curve his lips and he took a step closer still.
“And?”
“If you'd given me any other stone...”
Without another word, he drew her close, the box falling from his hand as he kissed her long and hard. When their lips parted, she glared at him in mock disgust, her eyes glistening.
“Some romantic you are, dropping my ring.”
He bent and picked up the box. After removing the ring he lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger.
“There were more important things to get out of the way first. Like hearing you say the word.”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
And he slid the ring on her finger before drawing her close once again.
“It's about damn time,” he grumbled and kissed her again. Then grinned.
“You must have been really pissed.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked in a sultry tone.
Fifteen plus years is a long time to harbor intense feelings before articulating them. I enjoyed Stephanie's all-around transformation which benefited her parents and mankind.
He needs a wife. She needs a reason to trust him. He fell for her at first sight. She, not so much.
If you’re into engaging romantic stories with heart and humor, together with complex family dynamics, you’ll love His Practically Perfect Pla
