She counted to sixty before she started up the stairs, careful to give Ford and Emily plenty of time to clear out before she followed. With any luck, it would be nearing the girl’s bedtime, and Lila could safely put the interlude behind her where it belonged.

There was no sign of either Ford or Patrick as she stepped through the door and reentered the ballroom. Her luck held while she chatted with a social worker who very kindly made no reference to her dress whatsoever. It even lasted long enough for her to take a stuffed mushroom from a passing waiter.

But just as she was about to pop the buttery morsel in her mouth, the emcee stepped up to the stage to make the announcement Lila had been waiting for all night.

It’s about time. Finally, her agonies could come to an end. Finally, she could smile graciously and make one more dash for the emergency exit—this time for good.

Or so she thought.

“Please give a warm round of applause for the recipient of a generous donation from Puppy Promise for a service dog and six weeks of personalized training.” The emcee made a big show of looking around the ballroom. At first, Lila thought he was looking for her, but he passed her over, not stopping until his gaze landed on the only other female in the room wearing a sparkling pink ball gown.

What? She reared back, her mushroom falling to the floor with a splat.

It wasn’t possible. She’d heard rumors that their donation was going to a nice old man from Cheney. Not him. Not her. Not…

“A big congratulations to Emily Ford!”

Chapter 2

“That’s a terrible shade of lipstick to wear on a beautiful winter morning.” Dawn sat cross-legged at the end of Lila’s bed, watching as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. “Come to think of it, that’s a terrible pantsuit you’ve got on. You look like a cross between a politician and a Golden Girl—and I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Lila took a step back and surveyed herself in the mirror. She did look awful, what with her long, dark hair pulled back in a tight bun and her makeup better suited for a jail warden than a day of playing with puppies. When added to the generous features of her face—which she’d always felt were a touch too large for anyone who wasn’t a marble statue—she looked downright medieval.

“Good.” She clipped the lid on the matte mauve lipstick. “I want to look as blandly professional as possible. If you saw me on the street, what would your first impression be?”