"Cora thinks we're getting married."

"Oh?"

"Treats it like a done deal."

"I'm not bound by anything my aunt says."

"And Dennis clearly thinks we are."

"I thought you weren't going to bring up Dennis."

"Only in a good context."

"A good context?"

"As proof of our intentions."

"You expect to wear me down with this type of banter?"

"No. It's obviously not working." Aaron held up his hands. "Look, it occurs to me the reason you haven't accepted is I've asked you to marry me so many times it's old hat. It isn't special. You don't even have to think about it. You say no as a matter of course."

"I'm glad you see my point of view."

"So, I think some sort of dramatic gesture is needed."

Aaron reached in his pocket, pulled out a plush jeweler's case. To Sherry's amazement, he got up from his chair, sank to one knee, opened the case. Inside was a diamond ring.

"Sherry. Will you marry me?"

Sherry Carter's mouth fell open. Her face turned blazing red.

Heads turned at the sight of the young man obviously proposing marriage. Every eye in the restaurant was on them.

A waitress with a huge tray of food found her way blocked. Her load was clearly heavy, but she wasn't about to interrupt. She shuffled to a stop, shifted the weight of the tray.

Aaron saw her out of the corner of his eye. He smiled up at Sherry.

"You wanna accept me already? We're holding up people's dinner."

Chapter 8.

SHERRY CARTER COULDN'T believe it. She'd actually said yes. Was it the ring? Was it the romantic gesture? Was it Aaron making a spectacle of himself? Was it him kneeling in the path of an encumbered waitress, so that unless she accepted four patrons would go without dinner?

Whatever the reason, Sherry had gone against her better judgment, agreed to do the thing that she had sworn she would never do again.

If only her first marriage hadn't been such a disaster. If Dennis had merely been a bum, a philanderer, a drunk, a drug addict, a freeloader. But, no, he'd had to be a wife beater. A violent, dangerous, manipulative- Manipulative. That was the worst. That handsome, suave s.o.b. could charm the birds out of the trees, could make a credulous girl believe he could change. If she'd stayed with him a bit less. If she'd left a bit sooner. She wouldn't have blamed herself then.

She wouldn't still blame herself now.

Part of the battered-wife syndrome.

The last time he hit her she was pregnant.

She lost the baby.

She left the hospital, never went back to him.

Too late.

It was her fault. She didn't deserve a second chance.

She'd said yes.

My God, she'd actually said yes.

She'd said yes to Aaron Grant.

Sherry wished he'd come home with her. But he was beeped by the managing editor, sent back to the paper to cover some late-breaking news. As if it mattered. TV would get there first. No way the paper got a scoop.

Sherry scowled at herself.

That's right. Belittle the man you just accepted. Deprecate yourself by deprecating him.

Make it easier to call the whole thing off.

My God!

She'd really said yes.

A silly grin spread over Sherry's face.

She'd really said yes.

Sherry took a breath. Hey, snap out of it. Back, to reality. So she said yes. It wasn't irrevocable. Women say a lot of things in the heat of passion. Not that a salad at the Country Kitchen could be considered passionate. Even so, the guy proposed. So she said yes. She might have meant it. She might not. She might go through with it. She might not. She had all the time in the world to change her mind if that's what she wanted to do. Right now she needed to calm down, get control, take care of business.

Easier said than done. Sherry's powers of concentration were minimal at best. Thank goodness she'd finished the Puzzle Lady column, didn't have that hanging over her head. If she had to construct a crossword puzzle now- Sherry's eyes widened.

Oh, hell! Cora. The puzzle for Cora. She'd promised to help. Could she put it off? No, there was some stupid deadline. The young mother had to fess up before the young father realized she wrecked the car.

That sounded stupid. How could it be?

Oh, right. Inspection. The damage would be discovered during inspection.

Which was tomorrow, so Cora had to have it in the morning.

Ah, hell.

Sherry clicked on the icon, called up Crossword Compiler. Was offered the standard fifteen-by-fifteen grid. Let's see. Could she get away with anything smaller? Perhaps, but it would be more trouble than it was worth. She was used to 15x15. Anything less and she'd have trouble placing the theme entry.

Which should probably be in rhyme. Let's see, what was it? Ah, yes, a dented fender. If that wasn't inspiration. Talk about a muse.

Sorry, dear

I wrecked the car

Had too many

At the bar.

No. Wrong tone. Too many letters. Sounded more like a man than a woman. Aside from that, it was great.

The problem was, there wasn't much precedent on car-wreck rhymes.

All right, how about a general apology.

Don't get mad

Punch my eye

I'm so sorry

I could die.

Sherry giggled.

Uh-oh. Not good. She was losing it. Come on. Get serious. What's wrong with that? Aside from the fact the last line had nine letters.

Get serious. Get this done. If it were a Puzzle Lady puzzle, you'd knock, it off in half an hour.

If it were a Puzzle Lady puzzle, it wouldn't be that stupid.

Oh, yeah? You just can't think straight because you're getting married.

Oh, my God!

Sherry spiraled around a few more times in her head, drove away the demons.

Okay, what's needed here? A little car-crash poem.

I was out

On a bender

There's a dent

In the fender.