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line, along with two managers, and many female customers. They began streaming by her. Their high-pitched voices and giggles fueled her excitement.
    “Oh, honey, we’re a hit,” Rico whispered as he stood beside her. “Oh, no, she didn’t. Look at her hair. It’s teased to Tucson!”
    Holding back her chuckle, Francie scolded him, “Not now, Rico. Later, when we’ve already sold her, all right?”
    “If you say so, but really, so yesterday. And that color.”
    She steered him away from his obsession. “Skip her. Go to the next one.”
    “Here, take this.” He shoved a tray of petit fours into her hands. Thankfully, he did leave, ushering in a pretty dark-haired young woman. “I like that scarf, honey. Did you get that here?”
    Phew! That was a close one .
    “Are you Francine King?” An older woman and a younger woman, mother and daughter duo she suspected, approached.
    “Yes, ma’am, I am.” She held out the tray and smiled widely.
    After picking up a treat with just two dainty fingers, the mother whispered under her breath, “See, I told you, you’re better looking than she is. How in the world does she think she’s going to pull this off, I’ll never know.”
    She gulped hard. “Excuse me?”
    “Francie,” someone called out, interrupting her.
    Looking around, she saw Peg pushing her way through the crowd. Marcus’ assistant waved the newspaper at her. “Francie, holy guacamole, I’ve got to tell you something.”
    With her free hand, she grabbed ahold of the gasping woman. “Peg, are you all right?” Could something have happened to Marcus?
    “Warning.” She held up the ad for the opening of the boutique. “Not good. Danger, Will Robinson, danger!”
    Just then, Francine became aware of Marcus storming toward her. “Explain,” he bit out, also holding up a copy of the ad.
    His green eyes were chips of icy anger. Her middle knotted. “What’s wrong?”
    They were making a scene, a very public one at that, she realized as several nearby customers grew silent and stared at her.
    “You authorized the ad, is that correct?” Marcus’ voice seemed to be edged with the same frost in his eyes.
    She gulped hard, nodding.
    “You approved this?”
    Peg stepped in. “Boss, it was me,” she said, nearly cowering. “My bad, I swear, scout’s honor.” She held up three fingers.
     Francine had never seen Peg act anything but confident and in control before. Something must be seriously wrong.
    Gazing from his shocked face to Peg’s, Francie grabbed the paper and read each line, beginning from the top. She didn’t have to go too far before she found it.
    Help Francine King find the groom for the wedding of her dreams!
    “No, you didn’t?!”
    Peg cringed. “’Fraid so, kiddo. I was just trying to help get the ball rolling and get more interest. You know, it will help business.” She must have read Francine’s face; she said, “Ouch!”
    Silence reigned. Tentatively, she glanced at Marcus. The muscle along his jaw jumped. She dared to look in his eyes again. Fury , she thought. “King’s Department Store is not, I repeat not, pimping you out, got it, Francine?”
    Her head swam. He did not just say that, did he?
    In the background, she heard an unmistakable sound. A woman cleared her throat again. “Francine,” she called.
    Marcus and Peg parted, turning toward the woman. “Holy crap, Batman!” Peg cried.
    As if in slow motion, Francine looked at the older, sophisticated lady stop in front of her, the paper tucked under one arm. “I’m so glad to see that you’ve come around to my way of thinking, Francine. I have a few prospects in mind for you.”
    That familiar voice lanced through her. She felt the color drain from her face. Her fingers went numb and she dropped the serving tray. Metal hit marble with a crash. “Mother!”

 
     
     

Chapter 8
     
     
    “Quick, tell me what happened,” Charlie urged as she nibbled on a saltine cracker. “Before Dolly comes back.