Husband Wanted

Frannie opened the medicine cabinet, hesitating a second before reaching for a bottle of aftershave. There was something decidedly intimate about going through a man’s toiletries. She unscrewed the cap and raised it to her nose, and the scent made her shiver with awareness.

“Finding everything?”

Frannie jumped, almost dropping the bottle into the sink. She closed the bottle and nodded quickly. “Y-yes. I was just . . . I like smelling this stuff.”

Clay looked amused. “What do you think of the way it smells?”

“Uh—very nice,” she murmured.

“Yes, but you can’t really tell by smelling it straight from the bottle.” He leaned close. “Here, take a whiff. Tell me if you think I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Her stomach fluttered wildly when the tip of her nose grazed his hair-roughened jaw. She recognized the woody scent with just a hint of citrus, but this time blended with male flesh. The combination made her head spin.

“What do you think, Frannie?” Clay asked again, his breath warming her skin.

“Oh, yes,” she said in a breathless gasp. “You’re definitely getting your money’s worth. And more . . .”

All rights reserved, in whole or in part, in any format. The content should not be used commercially without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is provided for your personal enjoyment.

Husband Wanted
was originally published as a
Loveswept
paperback in 1995 by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam, Doubleday, Dell Publishing Group, Inc. It has since been updated and revised.

The Content that follows is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons and events is coincidental.

Frannie Brisbane slathered butter onto two pieces of toast, trimmed the crust, and set the small plate between Alice and Grace Dempsey, where she had already placed two bowls of their favorite cereal, topped with freshly sliced strawberries.

“Thank you, dear,” Alice said. “You always know just how we like our breakfast.”

Which is why the Dempsey sisters, both in their seventies, walked five blocks for their morning meal at the Griddle and Grill each morning and claimed it was the highlight of their day. They enjoyed sharing the latest gossip and having their horoscopes read by a smiling Frannie.

Only today Frannie wasn’t smiling. There were dark, half-moon smudges beneath her eyes. Her long, strawberry blond hair, which she always braided and wore in an elegant crown at the back of her head, was fixed in a simple ponytail. She wore little makeup and hadn’t bothered with her favorite eye shadow that emphasized her green eyes. Her uniform, which was usually crisp as a new dollar bill, looked as though it had been pulled from the clothes dryer and donned without the benefit of a good pressing.

“Frannie, honey, what’s the matter?” Grace asked, her thin face drawn in concern. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you looking so poorly.”

“Is it that time of the month, dear?” Alice asked, taking great care to whisper. Her own face was cherubic and ruddy complexioned. “We have some tonic at home that’d make you feel better and put some color in your cheeks. ’Course, it is nasty stuff. Tastes like fish oil.”

“I know what’s wrong with her,” Frannie’s best friend, Blair Styles said, checking her own reflection in her compact mirror. Not that it was necessary. Blair’s makeup was flawless, and her chestnut hair, streaked with highlights, barely brushed her shoulders in a flattering look. Her navy blue and white polka-dotted slip dress, which showed just enough cleavage to give it a sexy flair, was set off by a smart bright green short-sleeve jacket. The outfit had no doubt come from her dress shop across the street. Nobody loved clothes like Blair. “I’ll bet you stayed up half the night studying for finals.”

“I’m done with finals,” Frannie said, trying to stifle a wide yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep. Too much on my mind.”

All three women waited expectantly. “Such as?” Blair finally asked when Frannie didn’t offer a response.

Frannie stepped up to the counter, pulled a sheet of folded notebook paper from her apron pocket, and handed it to her friend.

“What is it?” Blair asked.

“A letter; read it.” Frannie’s bottom lip trembled as the woman unfolded it. Grace and Alice leaned closer.

“‘Dear Frannie,’” Blair read aloud. “‘Thank you for answering my last letter. It seems as if I’ve known you all my life’.” She paused and glanced at the signature. “Who’s Mandy?”

Frannie replied in a whisper, “My daughter. The one I gave up thirteen years ago. We’ve been writing to each other for a couple of months.”

All three women gaped. “And you’re just now getting around to telling us?” Blair said, almost in a huff.

In a booth nearby, sixty-five-year-old Walter Coleman glanced up from his breakfast of scrambled egg substitute, dry toast, and black decaffeinated coffee. A mild heart attack six months ago had forced him to give up his usual fried eggs, grits and sausage. “Could I get a refill, Frannie, honey?” he said, holding up his coffee mug.

“Coming right up, Mr. Coleman,” she said, grabbing a pot of coffee and hurrying his way. “I just made it,” she said, “so it’s nice and fresh.” She filled his mug, and he thanked her.

“How did Mandy get your address?” Alice asked, when Frannie returned. “I thought adoptions were strictly confidential.”

Frannie shrugged. “Mandy didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.” Another customer came through the door. Frannie grabbed a menu and headed his way.

Grace shook her head sadly. “I remember the scandal surrounding that baby like it was yesterday,” she whispered. “Frannie had to drop out of high school because the kids teased her something awful. As if it weren’t bad enough that her mother was ill.”

“I wish I had befriended her,” Blair said sadly, “but I was too busy hanging out with the
popular
crowd and becoming Hanahan High School’s homecoming queen. I can’t believe how self-centered I was.”

Alice went on. “Once the baby was born and handed over to its new parents, Frannie got that job at the mill. She worked all day, many times she pulled double shifts. When she wasn’t working she was taking care of her sick mama.”

“Whatever happened to her daddy?” Blair asked.

Grace shook her head and made a tsking sound. “He walked out on the two of them when the mama became ill. Frannie wouldn’t have been able to take care of a baby
and
an ailing mama, plus work almost around-the-clock to keep the bills paid. ’Course, folks thought the worst of her, for giving up the child. They couldn’t see she was doing the poor thing a favor.”

“It says here that Mandy wants to visit,” Blair said.

“Oh, my,” Alice declared. “After all these years!”

Frannie returned, slightly out of breath after carrying a tray to a table of five college students, all guys, several of whom had flirted or teased her. Because it was a college town, she was accustomed to dealing with mouthy students who seldom tipped. “Did you read it?” she asked Blair.

Blair nodded. “You must be terribly excited.”

“Excited?” Frannie exclaimed. “I’m a wreck. She can’t come here!”

“Why not?” Alice asked.

Frannie’s eyes glistened with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. “I’ve done something awful. I sort of misled her about a few things.”

“Misled her?” Alice said.

Frannie blushed. “Well, you know. I wanted her to think I had come a long way in life since I had to give her up—”

“You
have
come a long way,” Alice said.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Exactly what was it you told her?” Grace asked.

Frannie’s face turned crimson. “That I’m married to this wonderful man and we live in a fine house. I may have mentioned that we have servants. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Why did you lie?” Alice said.

“I wanted her to be proud of me. How was I supposed to know she would end up visiting? Besides, you’ve seen where I live,” Frannie added.

“Your place is adorable, now,” Blair said. “You’ve fixed it up nicely.”

Frannie had made vast improvements to the place. After painting most of the interior, she had begun scraping and painting the outside on her days off, and during school holidays, when she was able to take a break from studying. It had taken months to complete. “Yeah, but it’s still old and small.”

“What does it matter the kind of house you live in?” Alice asked. “Your daughter is coming to see
you.
”

Frannie sighed. “From what I’ve gathered, Mandy is accustomed to living very well. Her father is a big-shot with the State Department, rides around in a black limo. I’m sure she has had the best of everything.”

This time Blair spoke. “How could your daughter
possibly
be ashamed of you?” she said as though she hadn’t heard a word. “You’re working full-time—”

“Yeah, waiting tables in a diner.”

“And going to school at night to earn your degree. Look how hard you’ve worked. You’re almost there. You have every right to be proud.”

Frannie shook her head. “I’m almost thirty years old, Blair. Most people already have their degrees by now.”

“Most people haven’t been through what you’ve been through. Which is why you’re going to make a great social worker.”

“Don’t you
want
to see her?” Alice asked softly. “Aren’t you curious to see how she turned out? She has to be what, twelve or thirteen-years-old?”

“She just turned thirteen,” Frannie said. “And, of course I’d love to see her, but —”

“How are you going to tell her she can’t come?” Grace asked. “She’ll feel like—” She paused as though trying to think of just the right word.

“Excuse me,” Walter Coleman said, startling the women so badly, they jumped.

Frannie glanced up at the distinguished-looking man with silver hair. “Oh, Mr. Coleman, I’m sorry,” she said, having forgotten about him completely. “Would you like more coffee, or do you want your check?”

“No, no,” he said. “Just hold on there. I couldn’t help overhearing you’re in somewhat of a bind.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping,” Alice said, giving him a pinched look.

Frannie was embarrassed that he had heard. The last thing she’d wanted to do was trouble her customers with her personal problems.

“Now, don’t interrupt me,” he said. “I don’t like to be interrupted; especially when I’ve come up with a solution.”

All four women fell silent.

“Sounds to me like you need a house,” he said to Frannie, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, which, thanks to his diet, were so baggy, they had to be held up by suspenders. He refused to spend money on new clothes—even though he could well afford to—but, as he claimed, there wasn’t a dang thing wrong with the ones he had. “I’ve got a fine place,” he went on. “You’re more than welcome to use it.”

Frannie gazed back in disbelief. Although Walter was a favorite customer, always joking and flirting with her, she didn’t quite know how to take his offer.

“
Me
use
your
house?” she said after a moment, wondering if his intentions were entirely honorable. After all, it was a known fact he was a womanizer, had been all his life. His poor wife had barely been in the ground six months before he’d married some money-hungry floozy with bright red hair and cantaloupe-sized breasts. His son had eventually thrown her out, then moved out of the family estate himself. This was all before his father’s heart attack, a condition only a handful of people in Hanahan, Georgia knew about, including Frannie, who’d immediately made alterations to his regular menu. She, like the others, had been sworn to secrecy about the heart attack.

She smiled. “But, Mr. Coleman, you live in a mansion. That’s hardly what I had in mind.”

“It should impress your daughter. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying I should let her think the place is mine?”

“That’s the whole idea.”

“It’s a
wonderful
idea,” Blair said, clearly as surprised as everybody else by Walter’s generosity. “And you know you can count on me, hon,” she said. “You and I wear about the same size. By the time I get finished with you, you’ll look like a fashionista.”

Frannie stared back at them, thoughts spinning. “I don’t know what to say,” she replied, shaking her head from side to side. “I appreciate your offers, but I’ve already lied to her once, and you see where that got me.”

Walter waved the comment aside. “When does she want to visit?”

Frannie was still reeling from his offer and wondering whether to accept. “During spring break,” she said. “No school for ten days.”