Bet Me Read online

  “I want you married and happy and this Cabot isn’t—”

  “Calvin,” Min said.

  “Bring him to dinner Saturday,” Nanette said. “Wear something black so you’ll look thinner.”

  “I’m not seeing him, Mother,” Min said. “That’s going to make it doubtful that he’ll want to meet my parents.”

  “Just be careful,” her mother said. “I don’t know how you find these men.”

  “He looked down my sweater and saw that red lace bra,” Min said. “It’s all your fault.”

  She spent a few more minutes reassuring Nanette, and then she hung up and went back to editing for another five minutes until the phone rang again. “Oh, great,” she said and answered it, prepared to argue with her mother again. “Minerva Dobbs.”

  “Min, it’s Di,” her sister said.

  “Hi, honey,” Min said. “If this is about Greg ratting out my picnic date, it’s okay, it’s over, I’m never going to see him again.” She drew another line through Greg’s name. As far as she was concerned, there couldn’t be too many lines through Greg’s name.

  “Greg says David says he’s awful,” Diana said.

  Min sat up a little straighter. “David said that, did he?” The rat fink didn’t even play fair on his bets. She wrote “David” in big block letters and then stabbed her pen into it.

  “He told Greg not to tell me he’d told him,” Diana said.

  “Right,” Min said, not bothering to follow that.

  “He just doesn’t sound like part of your plan,” Di said.

  Min stopped stabbing. “My plan? What plan?”

  “You always have a plan,” Di said. “Like me. I’ve planned my wedding and my marriage very carefully and Greg fits perfectly. He’s perfect for me. We’re going to have a perfect life.”

  “Right,” Min said, and drew another line through Greg’s name.

  “So I know you must have a plan and this wolf—”

  “Beast,” Min said.

  “—frog, whatever, can’t fit your plan.”

  “He’s not a frog,” Min said. “I kissed him and he did not turn into a prince.” He turned into a god. No, he didn’t. “Look, I’m never going to see him again, so everybody can relax.”

  “Good,” Di said. “I’ll tell Mom you’re being sensible as usual and she won’t worry anymore.”

  “Oh, good,” Min said. “Sensible as usual. Nobody mentioned this to Dad, did they?”

  “Mom might have,” Diana said.

  “Oh, hell, Di, why didn’t you stop her?” A vision of her overprotective father rose up before her like a big blond bear. “You know how he is.”

  “I know,” Di said. “I’m still not sure he likes Greg.”

  Are you sure you like Greg? Min wanted to say, but there wasn’t any point since Diana would insist it was True Love to the death. “Well, good news, I got you a cake—”

  “You did?” Di’s voice went up a notch. “Oh, Min, thank you—”

  “—but it won’t be decorated so Bonnie and I are going to do that with Mom’s pearls and a lot of fresh flowers.” Min began to draw a wedding cake.

  “You’re going to decorate my cake?” Di said, her voice flat.

  “People are going to love it when they taste it,” Min said, adding some doves to the top.

  “Taste?” Di said. “What about when they look at it?”

  “Are you kidding? Fresh flowers and real pearls? It’ll be a sensation.” Min drew in some pearls. They were easier than doves, and she was experiencing enough difficulty with her morning.

  “What does Mom say?”

  “Why don’t we ask her at the wedding?” Min said, keeping her voice chirpy.

  “Okay,” Di said, taking a deep breath into the phone. “I really am grateful. And it’s good that it’ll taste good, too. For the cake boxes and everything.”

  “Cake boxes?” Min said.

  “The little boxes of cake that the guests take home for souvenirs,” Diana said. “To dream on.”

  “Cake boxes,” Min said and began to draw little squares. “Two hundred. You bet.”

  “You didn’t get cake boxes?”

  “Yes,” Min said, drawing boxes faster. “I got cake boxes. Will you relax? You sound like you’re strung up on wires. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Diana said, with too much emphasis.

  “No trouble with Wet and Worse?” Min said and then winced. “I mean Susie and Karen?”

  Diana laughed. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Min said. “It’s . . .”

  “Min, we know about it. Karen overheard Liza say it back when we were in high school. She calls Bonnie and Liza Sweet and Tart.”

  Min laughed in spite of herself.

  “Don’t tell them,” Diana said. “I’ll go on pretending you don’t call Susie and Karen Wet and Worse if you’ll go on pretending we don’t call Bonnie and Liza Sweet and Tart.”

  “Deal,” Min said. “God, we’re horrible people.”

  “Not us,” Diana said cheerfully. “It’s our friends who make this stuff up. We’re those nice Dobbs girls.”

  “I think that depends on who you ask,” Min said, thinking of Cal. She had to remember to be nicer to him. Except she wasn’t going to see him again so it didn’t matter. Also, when she was nice to him in the park, it went badly. “I’ve been really bitchy lately. . . .” Her voice trailed off as her father loomed in the doorway, looking like an anxious Viking. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Oh, no,” Diana said.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Min said to Diana and hung up. “So, what brings you down here?” she said to her dad. “Air get too thin on the fortieth floor?”

  “About this man you’re seeing,” George Dobbs said, glowering at his daughter as he came into her office.

  “Don’t even try it,” Min said. “I know you have junior account executives for breakfast, but that doesn’t work with me. I’m not seeing Cal anymore, but if I were, it would be my choice. Come on, Dad.” She smiled at him, but his face stayed worried. “Two and a half million people get married every year in this country. Why not me?”

  “Marriage isn’t for everybody, Min,” he said.

  “Daddy?” Min said, taken aback.

  “This man is not a good man,” George said.

  “Now wait just a minute,” Min said. “You don’t even know him. He was a perfect gentleman both times we went out—” Well, there were hands in the park. “—and since we’ve decided not to see each other again, it’s pretty much not a problem.”

  “Good.” Her father’s face cleared. “Good for you. That’s smart. Why take chances with a man you know isn’t a good risk?”

  “I’m not selling him insurance,” Min said.

  “I know, Min,” he said. “But it’s the same principle. You’re not a gambler. You’re too sensible for that.”

  He smiled at her, patted her hand, and left, and Min sat at her desk and felt dull, frumpy, and boring. Not a gambler. Sensible as usual. She let herself think about kissing Cal in the park, his mouth hot on hers, his hands hard on her, and she felt the heat rise all over again. That hadn’t been sensible, that hadn’t been a plan. And now she was never going to see him again.

  She looked down at her report and realized she’d perforated it. She must have been stabbing it, the Norman Bates of statistical analysis. “Great,” she said, and tried to pull the pages apart. The top sheet ripped, and her phone rang, and she picked it up and snarled, “Minerva Dobbs,” ready to perforate the caller this time.

  “Good morning, Minerva,” Cal said, and all the air rushed out of Min’s lungs. “How did you get that godawful name?”

  Breathe. Deep breaths. Very deep breaths.

  “Oh,” she said. “This is good. Grief about my name from a guy named Calvin.” I do not care that he called. I am totally unaffected by this. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was convinced he could hear it over the phone.

&n