My Lucky Groom

back of the room, mesmerized by the pulsating lights. Noting they streamed through a high transom window, she stood up on her tiptoes to peer out of it. Finally, thank goodness. Something that was bound to be an excellent sign. Zen’s Chinese Take-Out: Open Twenty-Four Hours. What more could a girl hope for?
    “So?” Mary asked. “What do you think?”
    She turned toward Mary with a grin. “I’ll take it.”

    An hour later, Ventura was nearly unpacked. Only the treasures in the front flap of her suitcase remained. She debated on whether to take them out, then reasoned Mary would understand. “Do you mind if I put a few things on the refrigerator?”
    Mary looked up from where she sat on the bed painting each of her toenails purple and shrugged. “What you got in there?” she asked, indicating Ventura’s bag. “A whole magnet collection?”
    “That and a few fortunes.” Ventura dug out a gallon-size plastic bag with a zippered seal. It was stuffed to the brim with little white slips of paper.
    Mary set her polish bottle down on the nightstand with a thunk. “How long did it take you to eat all—I mean, collect those?”
    “Been saving them for years.”
    “Really?” Mary’s dark eyes lit up with interest. “Any special ones?”
    “They’re all special,” Ventura told her. And they were. Each and every one had spoken to her in some individual way. Not that she was superstitious or anything.
    “I mean, extra special ,” Mary prodded.
    Even though there was one of particular importance, Ventura didn’t know Mary well enough to share it with her. In fact, in all these years, she’d never shared it with anybody. Just kept it squirreled away in a secret spot in her wallet, so she could glance at it whenever she felt like it.
    “Yeah,” Ventura teased. “There’s one about meeting a tall, dark stranger.”
    Mary’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding! They still print that?”
    “No. That one is vintage. At least ten years old. But I’ve got it.” She dug it out of her bag as evidence and handed it over.
    Mary laughed and shook her head. “You’re funny, Ventura. You should come with me tomorrow. Meet some Washingtonians.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Some big arts fundraiser. Scored tickets from my friend Petra at the gallery.”
    “I’m not sure. It sounds…” Ventura looked down at her dowdy clothes. “Fancy.”
    “Tons of people will be there,” Mary tempted. “Reporters and such. Maybe you can make connections?”
    That sounded good in abstract. Concretely, Ventura wasn’t sure she could pull it off. Attending some big DC soiree with tons of society types, on only her second day here?
    Mary studied Ventura’s clunky sandals. “Bring any better shoes?”
    Ventura sat on the bed with a sigh. “They’re all more or less like this.”
    Mary’s face brightened sweetly. “No worries. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Chapter Two

    Ventura and Mary approached the awning overhanging the gold-framed front doors to the glitzy hotel. Arriving limousines were greeted by valets opening doors and escorting elegantly clad patrons into the night . Ventura clomped forward, self-consciously adjusting her too-tight halter. The dress might have been Lycra, but the tiny size eight was stretched to the max over Ventura’s ample size-twelve figure.
    “Stop gripping on to me, will ya?” Mary chided Ventura as she clung to Mary’s elbow, teetering unsteadily on spiky heels.
    “You should have let me wear flats.”
    Mary shot her an indignant pout. “I know that was a joke.” While they were a different size in dresses, luckily for her, Mary had said, they both shared the same size shoes. “Come on,” she said, leading Ventura along. “You look gorgeous.”
    Ventura tucked her cleavage beneath her glittery thigh-high gown. It was all gold and sparkly, making Ventura feel more like a bulbous Christmas ornament than a glam girl.
    A bellman pulled back the door, and the women walked inside. Mary waved her tickets in the air with a smile and they headed for the ballroom door. “This is going to be fab. You’ll see.”
    “Sure,” Ventura said. “Just don’t go too far. I might topple over.”
    Mary swatted Ventura’s hand with the tickets. “Get a hold of yourself, and put on your party face. This is your big chance. An opportunity to mingle! Actually,” she said, prying Ventura’s fingers off her arm, “it’s my chance too.” Then, to Ventura’s horror, she started to