Tweaking Mr. Right

TMR: Chapter 1

One

"WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?"

"Come on. It'll be fun." Cora grabbed my arm and pulled me through the white-washed gate into a field of daisy arrangements and billowing white organza tents.

"When you said, 'Hey sis, let's go out,' I didn't think you meant to crash a wedding! Do you even know these people?" I crowded up so close behind my little sister I kicked the back of her silver kitten heels as she scanned the people inside the reception area. I was soooo under-dressed. My black chinos and white, boat-neck top were perfect for a casual girls' night out, which I had hoped included some serious shoe shopping afterward, but to a society wedding? Cora could have warned me!

Her perfectly manicured fingers fluttered at me in the summer night air. "I met Sophia at a work function last month."

"Yeah, but this is her wedding," I whispered in her ear. "Sophia Wells! You know her father owns half of St. Louis?"

"That's asinine. He only owns about a fifth," Cora explained, craning her head to look over the heads of people in front of her.

I tugged on her sleeve, "We can't get in without an invitation anyway, so let's go," but Cora calmly pulled a thick, creamy card from her handbag. "Where did you get that?"

She grinned wickedly. "Daddy drew up the pre-nubs. Our firm was invited to the reception."

"I thought he threw all that stuff away. Says it's unethical."

Cora giggled, "I did some dumpster diving," and presented the invitation to the steward just inside the gate. Ooh, he's cute, I thought, mildly distracted by his even, white smile. Young, but cute. Cora signed the register and handed over the pen. I met her eye, gave up and put pen to paper.

I never understood why Cora chose law as a profession. Well, besides her uncanny ability to blindfold you and lead you to whatever purpose she deemed important, only without the blindfold. Her career was such a dreary, boring one. Cora oozed spontaneity and energy, so much like our mother, and so different from our serous lawyer father. And from me. Then again, I was the oldest. By only eight minutes, of course. But with Cora's capacity to consistently vault ahead of her common sense, everyone wondered how I managed to emerge from the womb first. Mother said it was because of my temper, my incapacity for sharing, and my elbows.

"What exactly do you expect us to do here? We don't know anybody," I reminded her. And exchanging pleasantries with the bride-to-be a month ago did not count in my book. "Please don't tell me this is about work."

"Nope. Meg told me that Jonathan is a groomsman."

Of course. Jonathan. I rolled my eyes. "Why don't you just call him and ask him out?"

She turned on me, shock and dismay widening her eyes. "Because you just don't call Jonathan Pryor and ask him out. He's quite possibly the most perfect man I have ever come across, and I am not screwing up this time. I've learned my lesson."

Automatically - and through a bad habit acquired from my best friend - I went into quote mode, "'It doesn't matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they are perfect for each other.'" Cora didn't seem to hear me. Instead, I shoved my arms under my breasts, crossing them. "So, it only took you twenty rotten boyfriends to figure out what went wrong the first times?"

She ignored my snide remark and grabbed my arm. "Look, there he is." I did as she commanded and saw him. Jonathan Pryor. Also an attorney, but for a different firm. Cora met him at a local convention last month -- probably the same as when she met Sophia Wells. Cora had a way of killing two birds with one smile. Since their initial meeting, she hasn't stopped talking about him, and half of our sister-dates were spent staking out his "favorite" places all over town. Thankfully, only half. We took turns planning our dates. Mine usually included chili dogs, cheesecake, ice skating, shoe shopping, or combinations of the fore-mentioned.