“You’re bringing a date?” Kate’s astonishment over breakfast at her parents’ hotel that morning still grated, but Annabelle had held her tongue. While Dean’s relative youth might work against her, the Grangers were huge football fans. With the exception of Candace, the family had followed the Stars for years, and she could only hope that Dean’s status would compensate for his youth and diamond studs.

She took one last look at her reflection. Candace would be wearing Max Mara, but so what? Her sister-in-law was an insecure, social-climbing dork. Annabelle wished Doug had brought Jamison instead, but her nephew was home in California with a nanny. Annabelle glanced at her watch. Her trophy date wouldn’t be picking her up for another twenty minutes. Before Dean had agreed to do this, she’d had to promise to be at his beck and call for the rest of her natural life, but it would be worth it.

As she headed downstairs, she grew uncomfortably aware that there was something pathetic about a now thirty-two-year-old woman still trying to earn her family’s approval. Maybe when she was forty she’d have gotten past this. Or maybe not. Face it, she had reason to be apprehensive. The last time she’d been with her family, they’d staged an intervention.

“You have so much potential, darling,” Kate had said over Christmas Eve eggnog on the lanai of their Naples home. “We love you too much to stand by and watch you waste it.”

“It’s fine to be a screwup when you’re twenty-one,” Doug had said. “But if you haven’t gotten serious about a career by the time you’re thirty, you start looking like a loser.”

“Doug’s right,” Dr. Adam had said. “We can’t always be watching out for you. You need to dig in.”

“At least think about how your lifestyle reflects on the rest of the family.” That had come from Candace, after she’d tossed back her fourth eggnog.

Even her father had piled on. “Take some golf lessons. There’s no better place to make the right kind of connections.”

Tonight’s “party” would be at the stodgy Mayfair Club, where Kate had booked a private room. Annabelle had wanted to invite the book club for protection but Kate had insisted it be “just family.” Adam’s newest girlfriend and Annabelle’s mystery date were the only exceptions.

Annabelle tested the temperature outside. It was chilly, almost Halloween, but not cold enough to ruin her outfit with one of her ratty jackets. She stepped back inside and began to pace. Another fifteen minutes until Dean was due to pick her up. Surely tonight her family would finally see that she wasn’t a failure. She looked good, she had a very hot, make-believe boyfriend, and Perfect for You had begun to turn the corner. If only Heath…

She’d been trying so hard not to gnaw over her unhappiness. She hadn’t talked to him since the party last weekend, and, so far, he’d honored her demand to leave her alone. She’d even managed to resist calling him to acknowledge the boxes of gourmet groceries and pricey liquors he’d had delivered to replenish her pantry. Why he’d included the lone African violet remained a mystery.