The Night She Got Lucky

  “Look, I hate to ‘butt’ into your personal affairs.” Bea could hardly contain herself. “But you should know that your entire booty is exposed.”

  Josie fumbled around behind her and gasped.

  “I’ll get it, Joze.” Ginger yanked up on the ruby-red satin until it was unhitched, then smoothed it out to where it fell at mid-calf. She smiled at her friends. “You all look gorgeous,” she said. “Thank you for being my bridesmaids. Come here a minute.”

  Ginger motioned for everyone to stand with her in front of the huge mirror.

  With her dark hair and pale skin, Roxanne looked stunning in the three-quarter-length-sleeve wrap dress. Bea looked downright sophisticated. She was even wearing small diamond stud earrings and a touch of lip gloss! Josie looked adorable, with her pink cheeks and all those glossy curls brushing her shoulders. Ginger had asked the seamstress to adjust the cut of the dress to accommodate Josie’s growing bump, and the result was perfection.

  Maybe Josie was right—maybe Ginger had never looked more beautiful than she did right then. She wore an ivory silk sleeveless dress that fell just above her ankles. The retro style of the gown was accented by elegant elbow-length gloves. Ginger’s hair had been pulled back into a French twist, and she wore her mother’s matching pearls and earrings.

  She looked like a knocked-up Holly Golightly.

  “We’re four of the hottest babes in all of Northern California,” Bea said, giving Ginger a gentle squeeze around her waist as they stood before the mirror.

  “Maybe five,” Ginger said.

  “Whoops! Of course!” Bea bent at the waist and whispered into Ginger’s dress. “Sorry, sweet cheeks.”

  Josie cleared her throat.

  “Right,” Roxie said, leaning down close to Josie’s tummy. “Maybe even six!”

  The women laughed and pulled each other tighter. Ginger noticed that tenderhearted Bea was almost ready to burst into tears.

  “All right, let’s get me married.” Ginger held out her hand to Bea, who transferred the bouquet to her grasp.

  The women walked to the door, and filed down the guest-house steps. Bea held Ginger’s elbow and they hustled her down the covered walkway to the main house. The women stood at the front door, peeking through the window.

  Ginger gasped. The great room at Samhain Ranch had been turned into a lovely chapel, decorated with red and white roses and sprays of greenery. A fire roared in the fireplace, sending golden light through the room. Candles were lit everywhere. About forty people were seated in a half circle of chairs.

  Ginger peered closer. There were her boys, so handsome and tall in their tuxedos. How proud she was of the men they were becoming! And there was her mother, wearing a dress that advertised her latest boob job, rubbing against the arm of Lucio’s father. And there was Larry’s latest girlfriend, sitting by herself in the last row. Ginger had met her. She liked her. She was a teacher, with two grown daughters. The woman was forty-seven.

  She knew why Larry was not sitting next to his girlfriend—because Lucio had asked him to be a groomsman. He wanted to honor Larry for saving his and Jason’s lives, and Larry had agreed.

  Will wonders never cease.

  Lucio entered the great room. She could barely detect a limp as he strolled between the divided chairs and stood to the left of Mrs. Needleman. He kissed the old woman’s hand, which she obviously loved, and then he clasped his hands behind him. Rick, Teeny, and Larry fell into place at his side.

  Lucio looked elegant and masculine and just slightly nervous. Ginger felt a sting in her throat at the sight of him, her sexual panther man, her six-alarm lover, a man who had turned out to be as brave and sweet as he was spicy. She thanked God that his arm was completely mended, and it was icing on the wedding cake that Lucio had stopped needing his cane just last week, four months after his gunshot wound. Everyone who had been injured that day had healed fine. And they’d all helped Lucio deal with the suicide of his friend.

  Ginger took a deep breath and blew out the sorrow. It did not belong here. This moment was about celebration. It was about hope.

  “I’ve waited my whole life for this,” she told her friends. “I don’t want to wait another second.”

  The Spanish guitar soloist paused, and started the melody Lucio and Genevieve had chosen for her walk down the aisle’Lágrima by Francisco Tarregá. It was a tender piece of music, simple and romantic.

  Lucio’s hands fell to his sides. He tried to regulate his breathing, but was failing. Bea came first, taking long strides through the room out of synch with the music, smiling big and winking as she took her spot. The Amazon Woman came next, and Lucio was surprised at how lovely Roxanne looked. She was one of those women whose bitterness could suck the beauty right out of her own skin—but this evening she seemed more relaxed and happy than he’d ever seen her. The red satin suited her as much as the breastplate and spear. Lucio smiled at her and gave her a nod.

  Josie came next. She beamed. She glowed. She giggled. It had been a real pleasure getting to know her, and Lucio was grateful that she and Ginger had each other’s counsel during their pregnancies. Lucio heard Rick mumble something to himself, and turned to see his friend blinking back tears.

  “I told you—no crying,” Teeny hissed. “You know I can’t handle that shit, man.”

  Lucio decided to check on his father, who was smiling softly and nodding his approval, not overly concerned with the aggressive advances of Ginger’s mother. Lucio had no illusions. Rebuilding a relationship with Isidro Montevez would be a monumental task, but his agreeing to come to San Francisco for the wedding was already a miracle in itself. Now if his papa could only escape the clutches of the glamorous Teresa Barr, former beach-blanket bimbo …

  For Lucio, everything and everyone else fell away as Genevieve entered the room. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool air. She walked slowly and delicately down the center of the room, the firelight playing on her skin, her smile wide and pure. A collective sigh went through the room. She was radiant. She held the bouquet of roses at her belly, but it did nothing to hide his baby inside. Of all the miracles in that room on that Valentine’s Day, his child was the most breathtaking.

  After all this time, after all these detours, Lucio was being offered the one assignment he had thought was out of his reach—the chance to be a husband and father.

  Genevieve arrived in front of Mrs. Needleman. Lucio moved to her right side and took her soft hand in his. He knew the ceremony would be brief. That had been his only request.

  “I know I will forget if there are too many words,” he had explained to Genevieve. “My tongue and my brain will be all jumbled.” They had agreed to say one simple thing to each other by way of vows.

  Mrs. Needleman read a short poem about the mystery of love. Genevieve looked over to Lucio and gave him a crooked smile. He wished they were alone. His bride was so delicious and round that all he wanted was to roll around with her, naked, skin on skin, breathing her and tasting her and singing to their little baby boy or girl. He was so in love with his bride that he didn’t know if he could survive the ceremony. He was so in love with his baby that he didn’t know if he could survive the three months of waiting.

  “I promise to give my heart to you without reservation and without doubt,” Genevieve was saying. She’d already handed off the bouquet to Josie and had turned to face him directly. “I promise to believe in you, laugh with you, find the joy in every small thing we experience together. I have been waiting for you forever, Lucio. I am so glad we found each other.”

  He nodded, painfully aware that it was his turn to speak. The Host! He had forgotten what he planned to say!

  “Just wing it,” Teeny whispered over his shoulder.

  Lucio let go with an embarrassed laugh. He took a breath. “So much has happened, my love. Everything that has taken place in my life has led me to you, to this day, to my child, to a world so full of happiness that it sometimes shocks me.”

  Genevieve’
s eyes went big.

  “I have seen so much of life—the tragedy and the greed and the most spectacular creations of God on earth. But nothing—nothing—has prepared me for what I see today. I have a wife! I have two wonderful young men at my side.” Lucio nodded to the boys in the front row, who were grinning shamelessly. “I have a life rich in friendship and laughter, and a sense of belonging.”

  Lucio felt himself choke up. He decided to let it come. In a broken voice he said, “Even my father is with me today, after a lifetime of … of … the word…?”

  “Alienation?” Teeny offered.

  “Separation?” Larry suggested.

  “Discord?” Rick asked.

  The entire room laughed.

  “Anyway, all that matters is that my father agreed to come, and it marks a new beginning.” He looked briefly to his father. “Gracias, Papa.”

  After taking a deep breath, Lucio brought both of Genevieve’s hands to his lips and pressed them tight with a kiss. “I love you, pelirroja, ” he whispered. “I will be a good husband to you. I will not let a day go by where you do not know how I treasure you, how I thank God that everything went wrong in my life so that everything could finally be made right.”

  Mrs. Needleman cleared her throat. “We’ve rented this joint by the hour,” she said, to great laughter.

  “Ah, I have said enough, yes?” Lucio released Genevieve’s hands and reached behind toward Rick, who handed off the ring.

  “Please marry me, Genevieve. Please be my wife.”

  She smiled. “I will.”

  Lucio slid the platinum band down her lovely finger. He knew he was smiling like a fool.

  “Please marry me, Lucio.” She held the ring at the tip of his finger. “Please be my husband.”

  “Of course! Yes, I will!” he said.

  She slid the ring down his finger.

  Mrs. Needleman asked them to face her. “Now, I know how it is with this crowd—you’re going to want to kiss the bride ASAP, so I’ll make it snappy.”

  The bride and groom exchanged smiles.

  “Lucio and Genevieve, you are blessed. You are chosen. You were offered and you accepted the mysterious gift of love. It is now your job to make the world a better place with the light of that love. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”

  Lucio had already grabbed Genevieve by the shoulders and pulled her mouth to his. He laughed, he cried, he kissed. He turned to see everyone on their feet, laughing and clapping and smiling.

  It was real. It was done. He squeezed Genevieve’s hand and they walked through the room as Mr. and Mrs. Lucio Montevez.

  Indeed, he was the luckiest man on earth.

  “Roxanne, would you mind getting me to my room so I can rest?”

  Roxie’s eyes went huge. She looked at Bea across the room, who was talking to Teeny and nursing another beer. Roxie waved her arms to get Bea’s attention. “Hey! Mrs. Needleman is ready to go to her room,” she said, rather loudly. Bea only shrugged, as though it weren’t her responsibility.

  “But I want you to walk me there, dear.” Mrs. Needleman grabbed onto Roxanne’s arm for support as she pulled herself from the armchair. “A two-hour party is two hours too many for me these days.”

  Roxanne sighed. She helped the woman through the kitchen and out the back door. They walked down the length of the covered rear patio in silence.

  “So what did you think of the ceremony this evening?” Mrs. Needleman asked when they were close to her guest-room door.

  A smile slipped by Roxie’s guarded expression. “It was really sweet.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Needleman sighed. “That Lucio is a real hottie. He makes me wish I were forty years younger.”

  Roxie nearly choked.

  “Think about it, Roxanne,” the old woman said. “Josie goes out and finds Rick, who is one of the handsomest men I’ve seen in my eighty-four years. And Ginger comes up with a sexier version of Antonio Banderas, which I didn’t even think was possible.”

  By then, Roxanne was the one who needed help walking. She couldn’t believe this old broad! She didn’t think little old ladies went around thinking things like that! It was disturbing.

  “Do you have your room key?” Roxie asked, trying to change the subject.

  “There are no keys here. It’s a private home.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Now, what I was getting at is, I wonder about the man you’ll fall for. If he’s anything like Rick and Lucio, then, woo-hoo! We’d better put on our seat belts!”

  “Here you are!” Roxie flung open the door to Mrs. Needleman’s room and nearly dragged her across the threshold. “Hurry now. It’s pretty cold out here. I wouldn’t want you to get chilled.”

  Mrs. Needleman chuckled. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “Not at all. Good night now. Feel free to call Bea if you need anything.”

  “Roxanne.”

  She’d already turned her back to Mrs. Needleman. She stood still, wrapping her arms around herself to stay warm. Roxie looked up to see a few stray snowflakes still falling from the sky.

  She turned back toward Mrs. Needleman. “I think we should just be honest, here, Gloria.”

  The old woman smiled. “You do, do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Roxie laughed a little, surprised by the piss and vinegar in this old lady. “Here it is. I’ll lay it all out for you. Now listen closely. I … do not … want … a … man.”

  Mrs. Needleman said nothing. She looked almost bored.

  “I will not be ‘falling for’ anyone, as you say. I will never again change my life and myself to please some guy. My life is mine to live. My terms. My dreams. And my dreams do not include a man.”

  Mrs. Needleman shrugged. “Are you finished?”

  Roxie’s mouth fell open. This woman was unbelievable! “No. As a matter of fact, I’m not done.”

  Mrs. Needleman gestured broadly. “Then please continue.”

  “Okay. Fine. I will.” Roxie shifted her weight from foot to foot. “All I’m saying is that I think you’re a sweet lady and you mean well, but I won’t be sticking around for the mumbo-jumbo lecture about fate and destiny that you used to psych out Josie and Ginger. That kind of crap isn’t my thing, okay? I’m thrilled for them, but this is where your fortune-teller gig comes to a screeching halt. I won’t be participating. Got it?”

  The old woman blinked at her.

  “Sorry, but that’s how I feel.” Roxie crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Now are you done?” Mrs. Needleman asked.

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Lovely.” The old lady smiled briefly. Then she frowned. “You want honesty, my dear girl? I’ve got some honesty for you.” She wagged a finger. “You are the angriest young woman I have ever met. That anger is going to eat you alive unless you face the source of it, name it, and let it go.”

  Roxie felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She could hardly get enough air in her lungs.

  “But you will never be able to do that if you continue to run away.”

  “I’ve never run away from a damn thing in my life,” Roxie said, livid. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Mrs. Needleman sighed. “I know that you have been badly hurt. I know you are a hard worker and a loyal friend. I know that you are kind and patient, keeping that damaged puppy the way you have. What is her name again?”

  Roxie let her arms fall to her sides. “Lilith.”

  Mrs. Needleman smiled. “Let Lilith show you the way, my dear. I think that if you help Lilith with her anger, you might discover the origin of your own. It’s just a suggestion.”

  “I’m already helping Lilith.”

  “Then keep at it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, was that so terrible? Was my advice—my mumbo jumbo as you call it—so difficult to swallow?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Mrs. Needlema
n reached for Roxie’s hand. “Do you know the one thing you can never run from, Roxanne?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I took Psych 101.”

  “And?”

  “Myself. The one thing I can never run from is myself.”

  The old lady smiled and gave Roxie’s hand a squeeze. “Well, then,” Mrs. Needleman said. “My work here is done. Good night.”

  Then she closed the door in Roxanne’s face.

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Susan Donovan’s next book

  NOT THAT KIND

  OF GIRL

  Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  “Babies, babies, babies, babies, babies…”

  Roxanne felt free to mutter to herself out here at the paddock, because her only witness was a pretty Appaloosa mare who was loitering about ten feet away, languidly chomping on alfalfa, her big brown eyes looking sympathetic to Roxanne’s concerns.

  Roxie propped a foot on the lowest rail of the fence and draped her elbows over the highest. “How am I supposed to be a co-godmother?” she asked the horse. “I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m not even sure I like them! Fine, they’re important to the continuation of the species and all that, but there are days I’m not sure the human species deserves a pass, you know what I’m saying?”

  The horse snorted and twitched her ears as if to agree.

  “I mean, why keep adding extra people to the mix when the ones already here can’t treat each other decently?”

  The horse ambled over to the fence, where she nosed Roxie under the crook of her arm. Roxie stroked the mare’s neck. “How did this happen? That’s all I’m asking. A year ago we were all perfectly miserable—man-less and about to lose our jobs at the paper. But at least we were a unified front in our misery, you know? We even took a vow to be alone together, just us and our dogs!”

  The horse blew air from her nostrils and pawed at the dirt.

  “And then, Josie goes out and finds Rick Rousseau, a hunk with a heart bigger than his bank account. And Ginger somehow conjures up Lucio Montevez, a Mediterranean sex god who basically worships her. And suddenly everybody’s in a family way and happier than pigs in you-know-what and I’m still…” Roxie stopped herself, sighing deeply. The horse moved closer, waiting for her to finish her sentence.