Jennifer Crusie - Manhunting

Kate smiled smugly at Jake. “I have a date this afternoon.”

“Oh, Lord.” Jake closed his eyes. “Who are you going to destroy now?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The resort would appreciate it if you’d just throw back the men you don’t want without maiming them.”

“I haven’t maimed anyone,” Kate protested.

“You almost drowned Lance. You scared Peter into heart palpitations. You hit Brad over the head with a bottle.” Jake shook his head. “And you still have men asking you out?”

“Lance grabbed me. Peter was cheating at golf. And, I might point out, I hit Brad to save you.”

Jake gave her a wicked grin. “Has any guy actually finished a date with you?”

“Planning on jumping? I wouldn’t. Blood’s hell to get out of silk.”

“I’m just checking the weather,” Kate Svenson said patiently and continued to stare out her apartment window, knowing that Jessie would lose interest and go back to her newspaper if she ignored her long enough.

She’d pulled back the thick drapes to let in the early-morning August sun. Even with her best friend sitting behind her, rustling her paper and slurping her coffee, Kate felt alone, mired in a despair that not even Jessie’s pragmatism could dispel. This is doing you no good at all, she told herself and moved away from the window to sit at her linen-covered dining-room table. She tried to concentrate on her breakfast coffee and the business section of the Sunday paper, but her mind kept wandering to the miserable state of her life.

Well, not exactly miserable, she thought. Actually, not miserable at all. I have a great career in a top management-consulting firm. Of course, I could wish that my father didn’t own the firm, and sometimes it’s boring, but it’s a great career - Well, an okay career…

With an effort, Kate pushed her career out of her mind and went on with her catalog of blessings. Her life was good. She had her health, and enough money, and terrific friends, the best of whom she was having breakfast with right now in a beautiful apartment full of exquisite French Provincial furniture that she certainly couldn’t afford if she didn’t have this damn job…

No. Kate clamped down on her negative thoughts and peered over the top of her paper at the brunette across from her who was reading her paper and drinking her coffee with the same total absorption she gave everything else.

Jessie Rogers jerked her head up, her dark curls bouncing. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kate said. “Just counting my blessings. You’re near the top.”

“I am the top, which is a real comment on your lousy life,” Jessie said and went back to the paper.

Trust Jessie to cut to the chase, Kate thought. She sits over there looking like Audrey Hepburn at twelve, and here I am looking like Grace Kelly at fifty. And we’re both thirty-five. Doesn’t she care that life is slipping away from us while we carve out careers we don’t want?

Of course, Jessie didn’t care. Her life wasn’t slipping away, she was living it. She wasn’t carving out a career she didn’t want, she was completely involved in one she loved, if you could call cake decorating a career, which of course, Jessie did, although how she lived on it, Kate would never know. Jessie just went with the flow, no plan at all. Maybe if Kate hadn’t planned her career out so precisely, maybe if she was doing something else…

Stop it, she told herself. She was a damn good management consultant, and she’d made a lot of money. It wasn’t her career that was bothering her, it was her empty personal life. Of course, Jessie was happier than she was. She hadn’t gotten herself into three horrible engagements in the past three years because she didn’t care that she was thirty-five and not married. I’m the one who cares, Kate thought. She was the one who was guilty and miserable. It shouldn’t matter but it did, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Pathetic. Kate sighed and went back to her paper.

Jessie slapped the newspaper down on the linen-covered tabletop and said loudly, “This is all your father’s fault.”

Startled, Kate looked up from the paper. “What? The recession? The construction on 70? Calvin can’t find Hobbes? What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jessie folded her arms and glared at her. “You’re unhappy.”

“No, I’m not,” Kate said, forcing a smile. “You read that in the paper? What are you reading? I told you not to read the personals. You get too upset about all the lonely people and you transfer it to me. I’m fine. Read the sports page.” She went back to her paper, holding it like a shield in front of her.

Jessie, as usual, did not give up. “You keep sighing. I can’t concentrate on Travel and Leisure with you sighing.”

“I’m not sighing,” Kate said without looking up. “It’s sinus.”

“No, it’s not.” Jessie narrowed her eyes. “You’re not still pining over that jerk Derek, are you?”

“No.” Kate stuck to her paper. “I don’t pine over jerks. It’s not time-efficient. Go back to Travel and Leisure.”

Jessie hooked her finger over the edge of Kate’s paper and pulled it down so she could look into her friend’s eyes. “You want to get married.”

“Of course I want to get married,” Kate said reasonably. “Some day. Get your finger off my paper. You’re crumpling the Dow-Jones.”

“You want to get married now.” Jessie looked disgusted. “It’s your biological clock or something.”

“Your nail polish is chipped,” Kate said. “It’s also a really ugly color, but I’m not mentioning that because it would be none of my business.”

“You’ve been engaged three times in the past three years,” Jessie said. “Not one of them could keep you. You said yes to three men and then dumped them. Why would you say ‘yes’ to three men you couldn’t bring yourself to marry?”

Kate took a deep breath. “Derek insisted on a premarital agreement. Paul informed me that my success threatened him and if I loved him I’d stop working so hard. Terence wanted me to quit my job because my social duties as his wife would be too pressing. And you think I should have married one of those men?”

“Frankly, I don’t think you should have dated any of them,” Jessie said. “I just think being raised by your father has given you a warped idea of life, marriage, and men. And I think you’re unhappy, which makes me unhappy. And I don’t like being unhappy, so we’re going to fix you.”

Kate put down the financial section. “No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are,” Jessie said. “We’re going to improve your life. We’re going to make you more like me.”

Kate started to laugh. “I don’t want to be like you.”

“Hey,” Jessie said, not fazed at all. “You should be so lucky.”

“You decorate cakes for a living,” Kate said. “Beautiful cakes, admittedly, but still…”

“I’m an artist,” Jessie said.

“You’re a nut,” Kate said. “But I love you, so I overlook it.”

“I may be nuts, but I love what I do and you don’t,” Jessie said. “Remember when you were with the Small Business Administration? You used to tell me about all those little businesses you’d help get started, and you’d feel so good, remember?”