Melissa James - Cinderella's Lucky Ticket

Leaning in the doorway of the laboratory, Abigail Lucinda Miles felt the usual rush of frustrated sorrow. Of course he was still in his crumpled lab coat, leaning over his cage of beloved chimpanzees. “Hugh. You’re not ready.”

Her fiancé started, spilling his eyedropper onto the petri dish. He turned to her, his tanned, handsome face and brilliant blue eyes cool with displeasure. “You do remember that this experiment is vital, and every vial of scent costs hundreds of dollars?”

She sighed, digging her hands into her pockets. “Yes, I know, Hugh, but we’re meeting our parents in an hour at Bringelly’s to discuss the wedding…”

He added another cautious drop to the clear dish, his blond hair glinting in the light, like a Nordic god. “What—?” Then he sighed. “Oh, yes. I forgot. Can you hold them off an hour or two?”

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” she replied, but couldn’t hold in the weary smile.

The chimps jumped up and down in their series of connected cages, screaming, cackling. He swiveled back to his simian friends, his eyes on fire with eagerness. “You like that one, babies?” But seeing no sign of his long-expected reaction, he sighed. “It’s just another few months, then we can do other things.” He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes blazing. “Abigail, we’re so close. With one breakthrough we’d get the corporate funding we need, and I could move on to—”

“Getting married?” she asked, in wistful hope.

“Have I been neglecting you again?” He kissed her nose. “I thought you understood why I’ve had to concentrate on this the past few months. Sorry, baby. I’ll take Saturday off and devote the day to our wedding.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “I’ll show you my dress. It’s white tulle, with a lovely tiara—and I found a great florist—”

“No wonder you’re feisty today.” His hands fell on her shoulders, breaking into her dreamworld with tender impatience. “Honestly, you scare me at times. You change as swiftly as Jekyll and Hyde. You’re on that Lucy kick again.”

Sizzling color raced up her cheeks. “Well, it is my name—well, my middle name. Abigail Lucinda Miles.” She would not give in to the sneaking shame she felt every time her parents or Hugh chided her about her “Lucy kick”—she wouldn’t!

He smiled at her over his goggles. “But it doesn’t suit you. My Abigail is quiet, modest, sensible—just like you are. But when you get on that Lucy kick, you’re illogical and wild, wanting silly things. I know what’s right for us, snooky. A small, simple at-home wedding with no tizzy dress or fuss, and funnel our efforts and funds into the experiment for now.” He smiled, winked and slapped her rear. “You can be sure I’ll be at the church on time.”

“We’re not having a church,” she muttered. “I don’t like organized religion. Do you know that about me, Hugh? Do you see me at all anymore?”

“Mmm, hmm.” Jotting down notes on the chimps’ reaction to the latest scent, he didn’t look up.

Sudden tears stung her eyes. “Hugh, do you really want to marry me, or is it because I’m Professor Miles’ daughter?”

“Hold on a tick, sweetie, just finishing these notes…” Hugh scribbled a little more, then he looked up with a slightly harassed smile. “Now what was that?”

Lowering her face to hide her confusion and sorrow, she shook her head and said the words he expected, needed her to say right now. “Nothing, Hugh. It’s not important.”

His voice filled with warm approval. “Good girl. I know it’s hard now, but we’ll take a late honeymoon when I’ve completed my experiment. We’ll go anywhere you want once I hit the big time.”

She shuffled her toe against the bench, and the words popped out against her will. “If you’d supported me when I wanted funding for my theory on organic growing of apples in arid areas, we could have enough money by now to—”

He sighed as he worked on a new scent. “I’ve told you a dozen times, baby, your idea isn’t feasible. You’re a librarian. A perfect scientist’s wife-to-be, quiet and supportive.” He gave her that quick, I-wish-you’d-go-now-I’m-busy look. “Now I really need to get back to work, all right?”

A chimp squealed. Hugh swung around, eyes blazing beneath the goggles, and started scribbling down data on the scent he’d just used. “Yes! Yes…the combination of high floral with the…”

She was invisible again. She could stand in front of him and he’d see through her, right to those petted, spoiled monkeys…

A minute later she trudged down the street to her car in the warmth of the spring evening, kicking rocks. “Is it so much to ask, to have him participate in our wedding day?” Lovely gardens and horse-drawn carriages, lace and tulle and orange blossom…Lost in dreams, she sighed. Right now, she’d settle for Hugh just waiting for her at the end of the aisle without a petri dish or a cage of chimps to distract him.

You’ll never have it—Abigail, an inner imp mocked. You’re doomed to go from neglected child to forgotten wife. You’ve lived on campus since birth. You don’t know anyone, and nothing about the world apart from theory and thesis. You’ve never been outside Sydney, barely away from the university. Face it, you’ve got nowhere else to go.

She kicked another rock. “If I’d got my apple experiment I’d have something besides the wedding to concentrate on. I’d have my wedding…and if I funded his experiment I’d get Hugh’s attention….”

Her mother’s words of last week drifted into her mind, in that cool, lecturing tone that always made her feel so childish and selfish. “His work is vital, Abigail. Don’t get so worked up about things that don’t matter in the overall scheme of things. Hugh’s research helps humanity for life. Try not to think of yourself all the time, dear. It’s only a wedding. He’ll marry you one day. Surely you can wait a few more months…or a year?”

W-well…of course she could, she’d done it before, but—but it was so embarrassing to have to cancel the wedding again….

She sighed, climbed into her old coupe and turned on the radio, letting the easy-listening music soothe her. Her eyes closed; her head fell back on the seat. “I’m better now. I’m fine. I’m happy.” The mantra of her mother’s analyst helped the panic subside. She drove home to her one-room flat, tidying her messy bun, reapplying lipstick, buttoning up her cardigan at each set of red lights. “What’s wrong with a simple wedding, and taking a honeymoon when his experiment’s complete?” She turned into the driveway, winking foolish tears away. “We’ll have a second wedding when he makes the big time….”

Try if, Abigail, that horrible inner imp mocked. Six years and he’s still no closer to his dream…and neither are you.

“Stop it. Stop it!” She shook her head to clear it, and yanked open the mailbox.

At least that brought her a little gift. Oh, joy…a fat envelope with a big, glossy sweepstakes brochure inside. She gave a whoop of delight. Reading these brochures, dreaming of winning, was her secret fantasy—a harmless double life Hugh and her parents knew nothing about. With a smile of mingled anticipation and guilty pleasure, she ripped it open.

“Congratulations to Ben Capriati, the winner of Lakelands Children’s Charities Sweepstakes Draw 224! Here’s Ben outside his grand prize, a lovely waterfront home on Queensland’s sparkling Gold Coast. Having bought the hundred-dollar option book of tickets, Ben also won two luxury cars, a boat and a Bali holiday….”

She gazed at the dark, brawny, raffishly smiling man in the black leather jacket, jeans and work boots. Lucky Ben Capriati. Even rough-riding bikers had their dreams come true.