Free Paper Moon by Linda Windsor Page A

night, ladies . . . and bolt the door.”
    â€œWe will, Dad.”
    â€œSee you in the morning, Mr. M,” Annie said.
    Easing the door shut after Blaine turned to go, Caroline dutifully slipped the bolt into place and then floated into the bathroom, lifted by the clamor of her fairy tale–infected heart’s Good night, sweet prince . But when she stubbed her toe on the marble threshold, reason had its say. He was just being the gentleman his Atlanta-born mama raised him to be. Caroline sat on the toilet lid and rubbed her protesting toe, her lips pulling into a wistful smile.
    But thank you, Neta Madison, for bringing me the Cinderella moment à la your son’s dance lessons. It might be sensible shoes tomorrow, but for tonight, it was glass slippers all the way.

    The moonlight madness of the night before gave way to a peek-aboo sun above the surrounding mountains and sleep-deprived, grumpy faces the following morning. It was hard enough for Caroline to get ready, much less ride herd over the girls, who kept hogging the bathroom. Resigned to using the room mirror, Caroline stood before it in her sleep shirt and rubbed makeup remover on her eyes before she realized the tissues were in the bathroom.
    â€œAnnie, honey,” she called out, padding over to the door in her bare feet, “hand me out some tissues or toilet paper?” Okay, Caroline knew the experts insisted on cotton balls or pads, but the experts couldn’t afford to keep her, Annie, and Annie’s friends stocked with them.
    â€œWhat?” Annie called from the other side of the locked door.
    â€œUnlock the door. I need to get some toilet—”
    â€œHey, Dad,” Karen said, throwing open the connecting door behind Caroline. “You ready yet?”
    Caroline jerked her head around to see Blaine Madison sitting on the edge of an unmade bed, a telephone pressed to his ear.
    â€œKaren, I’m not ready,” she cried. Not with a crumpled T-shirt touting a Winnie the Pooh “Tiggertude” and raccoon circles around the eyes. And her hair was as wild woman as it gets before a morning brushing.
    Blaine, on the other hand, while unshaved and still in a pair of sweatpants, looked fine in the most flattering sense of the word.
    Mother Nature hadn’t played fair to make females so high maintenance. Caroline groaned silently as he crooked his finger at his daughter, bidding her to come in. To Caroline he afforded a crimped smile that held back at least shock, if not outright laughter.

    Blaine motioned for his daughter to close the door behind her and resumed taking the messages that his secretary was reading off.
    Some ground rules obviously needed to be set.
    â€œWhat?” Karen mouthed.
    â€œHold on a minute please, Alice.” He covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Don’t ever do that again. It was rude.”
    A picture of innocence, his daughter lifted her shoulders. “Do what? I mean, it’s not like anyone was naked or anything.”
    Blaine’s voice took on a hint of Karen’s exasperation. “It isn’t proper for unmarried adults to see each other—” He groped for the word, the image of Caroline in a rumpled sleep shirt adorned with Tigger now indelibly etched in his mind. She’d reminded him of a wide-eyed raccoon caught in its mischief. Of course, he doubted he appeared any less startled.
    â€œDad, you’re gonna see her in a swimsuit,” Karen reminded him, as if she had the monopoly of wit and wisdom in the room.
    For the moment, she did.
    â€œIt’s just . . . improper,” he stammered. Talk about lame. “And if you do it again, you won’t see the light of day till school starts in September.”
    â€œI just wanted to see if you were going to breakfast, but I don’t want to eat with a grumpy old bear.”
    Grumpy old bear? He picked up the roll of antacid tablets he slept with and popped one to put out the