Free The Secret Wedding Dress by Roz Denny Fox

really wonderful man.
    It seemed now that she’d been terribly wrong when she’d assured herself last week that she’d gotten over double-crossing Desmond Emerson. He’d so carelessly and easily killed her dreams. What was worse, she sat alone weeping in her wine, was knowing that Des and his new wife, her own former assistant, suffered not one shred of remorse.

Chapter Four
    Joel satbrooding over a cup of coffee in his kitchen. He doodled around the edges of a half-finished list of things he needed to do. His breakfast consisted of three oatmeal raisin cookies and black coffee. Fortunately for him, Rianne had slept in. He didn’t want her developing his bad eating habits. Although Mary Shea used to say she put healthier ingredients in her cookies than most manufacturers used in their breakfast cereals. At times she used to alter her oatmeal recipe, adding in grated apple or cranberries and nuts. The newspaper’s health columnist got after him one day over the disgusting meals he showed Poppy and Rose eating. The woman said a lot of young people read his strip, and that Joel should show a little responsibility. So he had Poppy going on a health-food kick for a time. Even used one of the columnist’s lines, having Poppy tell Rose that there was more nutrition in the cardboard box than the sugar-coated cereal inside.
    Remembering the furor that touched off in the paper’s advertising department, Joel smiled. It was his first inkling of how powerful his work had become. He’d been summoned to a meeting with his editor, the editor in chief and ten suits from the ad division. The men shouted at each other and at him, all of them talking as if his characters were real people who’d committed a cardinal sin. Oh, it’d been sweet. He’d ended up getting a bonus, plus a fat raise. But he had to promisethat Poppy and Rose wouldn’t step on the toes of the paper’s multi-million-dollar advertisers again.
    “Daddy,” a plaintive voice warbled down from upstairs. “Where are you?”
    Jumping up, Joel quickly brushed cookie crumbs off the table into his hand, and dumped them in the garbage disposal on his way to the foot of the stairs. “I’m in the kitchen having coffee. What do you need, Rianne?”
    “Nothing. I looked in your bedroom, and office, and I couldn’t find you.” She padded to the landing in her bunny slippers and long nightie, rubbing her eyes. A yawning cat twined about her legs. “The ‘partment didn’t have so many rooms.”
    Joel felt a stab of guilt for taking her away from all that was familiar. “Do you miss Atlanta so much, baby?” Rianne usually acted grown-up beyond her years. Except for early mornings or when she was ill. Running up the stairs to meet her, Joel held out his arms, and she stumbled forward and let him swing her aloft.
    “I like it here ’kay. But I thought there’d be kids to play with.” She pushed tangled blond hair out of her eyes. “Yesterday was fun. I loved making cookies with Sylvie. Daddy, why don’t you like her? She makes me laugh. I like her.”
    “I don’t dislike her….” he began, and realized he had no explanation for what had erupted between him and his neighbor yesterday.
    “Come on, kid. Let’s go fix you toast, juice and peaches.”
    “Are the peaches sour?”
    “Nope. Sweet. I ate a whole one after you went to bed last night, and it was yummy.”
    “Sylvie had some in her fridge. She said they were good, too.”
    Joel set Rianne down to choose a seat. He rummaged until he found whole-wheat bread. As he shoved two slices in the toaster, his attention was again drawn to his neighbor. Joel thought he’d paid Sylvie’s obvious sewing talent a compliment, but then he’d glanced at her, and her big, dark eyes werebrimming with pain—as if he’d injured her with his comment. After that, she’d sounded shrewish. And her remark about sewing Rianne a pretty dress had hit him wrong, as if he let his daughter wear rags. It was too similar to a