Rachel Gibson: Not Another Bad Date

Devon eyed the associate from women’s apparel parading around in the new Covington sheath dress. That dress should have been hers, but she’d been body-slammed by the New York socialite. Who would have thought that those girls from the Hamptons knew moves like that?

Devon looked into the case of Maisonette and low-luster pearls. How had she gone from the shoe department at Walmart to the jewelry department at Sears? How was that fair? It just reminded her of all the lovely jewelry she’d once owned. Sears was just a different version of the same Walmart hell.

She stared down at the Black Hills gold that was just so wrong on so many different levels. Sears loved green, pink, and Black Hills gold, when really, if you couldn’t afford platinum, why bother?

A few days ago they’d received a shipment of necklaces. All made from the different-colored golds and personalized with the likes of Foxy Lady, and Hot Momma, Nicole, and Veronica. Anyone with an ounce of class knew that wearing personalized anything was vulgar and had socialist undertones.

Just as she reached for an interesting ruby pendant, the jewelry case wavered and shimmered into nothing. The walls of Sears evaporated, and her skin tingled as she once again stood among clouds wearing her Chanel bouclé suit and Mikimoto pearls. She looked up as Mrs. Highbarger suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“It’s a good thing you stayed put this time. I wasn’t in the mood to waste time looking for you. I have important things to do.”

Devon wasn’t certain, but it hadn’t seemed like she’d been in Sears all that long.

Seven months now, her old teacher informed her without speaking. “You’ve earned another gift.”

She was shocked and a little confused. “Is what’s-her-name pregnant?”

“Yes, with twin boys.”

Twin boys. “Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air. “There is a God.”

Of course there’s a God. And He hears you.

Oops.

As one, the two of them moved up the invisible escalator, and she asked, “What’s going on?”

“See for yourself.”

They stopped, the clouds cleared, and Devon looked down into a backyard garden. What’s-her-name wore a long white dress and a wreath of roses in her wild hair. Zach stood behind her wearing a dark blue suit. His arms were wrapped around her sides and his hands were on her huge pregnant belly. He looked happy. Happier than she’d ever seen him off the football field. Happier than he’d ever been with her. This wasn’t how the curse was supposed to work. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that she had to slave away in Sears for all eternity selling cubic zirconia and faux pearls, and he got to be happy with what’s-her-name.

“Are they married then?”

“Just today.”

Anger and hatred swirled and coalesced within her chest. This could not happen. She would not let this happen. “I’ve earned another gift?”

“Yes. Use it wisely.”

She put her fingers to her lips and contemplated what to do next. Everything she’d tried so far had backfired. She needed something good. Something foolproof. Something…

Within the cloudy vision, Tiffany walked across the yard toward her father. Devon’s heart swelled with pride and love. Her baby was getting so grown-up. She wore a light pink silk dress, and her hair was piled up on her head and circled with pink roses. She looked beautiful and just like Devon at that age.

Zach said something that made Tiffany laugh, and she playfully punched him in the arm. Then she bent forward, cupped her hands around her mouth, and spoke to her new stepmomma’s belly.

“What’s your next gift?” Mrs. Highbarger asked.

She opened her mouth and closed it. She hated Zach for not loving her the way he loved his new wife. She hated what’s-her-name more…but Tiffany looked happy. Really happy. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t have eternity. What are you going to do?”

She blinked at the image several times. More than she wanted to get back at Zach and his new wife, she wanted her child to be happy. She opened her mouth and heard herself say, “I guess I’m not going to do anything.” Even if it meant going back to Sears and wearing a personalized Foxy Lady necklace for eternity.

Mrs. Highbarger smiled. “Finally.”

“Finally what?”

The teacher took a step back through heavy gold doors that suddenly appeared. The doors whooshed closed and the gray mist formed solid walls. Even though Devon knew the drill, she was terrified as her skin tingled and she looked down at herself as her beautiful Chanel suit warped and shimmered. “Where am I this time?” she called out. The suit dissolved and in its place she wore a Carolina Herrera black cocktail dress made of silk. Christian Louboutin pumps appeared on her feet.

She looked around and gasped. Gucci. Fendi. Louis Vuitton. She raised a shaky hand to her lips as she recognized the sights and smells. “Saks Fifth Avenue,” she whispered. The flagship store. If she could have, she would have wept.

Finally, Devon Hamilton-Zemaitis had died and gone to heaven.

With the publication of New York Times bestselling author RACHEL GIBSON’s first book, readers discovered one of contemporary romance's freshest voices. Four of her novels were named among the Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year by Romance Writers of America. She has won numerous awards, including Borders Bestselling Romantic Comedy, National Reader’s Choice, and the RITA ®Award for the Best Single Title Contemporary Romance of the Year.

Readers can write to Rachel Gibson at P.O. Box

4124, Boise, Idaho 83711-4124, or visit her website at www.rachelgibson.com.