pleased. “Is Fred here too?”
“You think I could drag him to a bachelor auction? No, I came with friends. It’s such a good cause. I’ve bid on a couple of items in the silent auction.”
I introduced her to my friends, then said to her, “It’s going to be an interesting time for you and Fred, with him retiring. I guess you’re looking forward to it.”
“Mostly yes. But it will be an adjustment.” She smiled. “Marriage goes through phases, and the transition times are interesting. But like that young man onstage said, it’s about commitment and being in it for the long term.”
“I believe that too.”
“How about you, Jade? Is there a special man in your life these days?”
“Uh, well…”
Kimberly grabbed my left hand and pulled it behind my back; then I felt a ring slide on my finger. “Jade’s engaged,” she said brightly.
“Really? Congratulations.”
I lifted my hand and flashed Kimberly’s diamond. “Thanks. It just happened.” Beside me, Amarjeet choked back a laugh. I told myself it wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t know which of my four choices he’d turn out to be.
“Guess you’re not bidding on a bachelor, then?” Melinda teased.
“Me?” My voice squeaked. “Oh, no. Just to support the cause. Which reminds me, there’s something I want to bid on in the silent auction. Will you excuse me?” I had to get away before she asked for details about my fiancé.
“I’ll see you next week at the Triple-F picnic. I can’t wait to meet your fiancé.”
“Me either,” I muttered under my breath as I hurried away, Kimberly and Amarjeet following me. “Why did you do that, Kimberly?”
“Impulse.” She shrugged. “You were going to announce it at work Monday, right?”
“I guess.” We huddled in a corner. “But, damn, now I can’t bid. One of you has to do it.”
“Me!” Kimberly said. “Let the engaged girl live vicariously.”
Amarjeet frowned. “But Melinda’s met you, Kimberly. She’ll notice, and probably recognize the guy when Jade takes him to Triple-F.”
“I’m so screwed,” I moaned. “Do we have a plan B?”
“We can figure this out,” Kimberly said. “If I buy the guy, you can tell Melinda, uh…”
“That your fiancé volunteered for the fund-raiser before the two of you got serious,” Amarjeet said. “He didn’t want to pull out and leave the organizers in the lurch. But nor was it fair that some poor woman win him under false pretences, so you got a friend to bid. No, wait, with that story, you could bid yourself.”
“I’d rather have a degree of separation. Thanks, Amarjeet, that’s a good cover story.”
“Oh, yay, I get to buy a guy,” Kimberly said gleefully. “Brian’s going to get such a laugh out of this.”
We were chuckling when the loudspeaker told us to return to our seats. “Okay,” I said, “let’s try for the first one on my list. If the bids go too high, we’ll bail and wait for the next.”
“Hurry up,” Kimberly said, “we want to get good seats.”
“Save me one,” I said. “I have to go to the ladies’ room.”
I hurried away, noticing that the floor swayed gently. Those Raining Mens packed more of a punch than I’d thought.
When I returned, my friends were giggling and their glasses were empty. They’d saved me a seat on the aisle, beside Amarjeet. I slipped into it as the male emcee took the stage.
He announced the winners of the silent auction, thanked the donors, then said, “If you didn’t win, we hope you’ll still support the children’s wing. You’ll find donation forms in the program, and you’ll get a tax receipt.”
Cara, the red-dressed emcee, took the stage. “Thanks again to all these wonderful, handsome, amazing bachelors who have participated in the auction. It’s easy to give a little money to charity, but these men have gone above and beyond. They’re giving their time—their brains and muscles and charm—for tonight’s valuable cause. And they don’t even get a tax receipt! So let’s show them all how much we appreciate them.”
The room exploded with cheers and applause. “I’m so nervous,” I murmured to Amarjeet.
“Have faith. If it’s meant to be, then it will happen.” Her pronouncement was punctuated by a hiccup.
Cara reintroduced Justin and called for bids. The lights stayed on so everyone could see who was bidding. As the bids rose, I leaned past Amarjeet to whisper to Kimberly, “Shouldn’t you bid?”
“I think we should pass on Justin and figure out how things work.”
It wasn’t like her to be cautious. Had Amarjeet been talking strategy to her?
The bidding for Justin heated up, rising to over $500, then stopped with a flashy redhead. And then it was the next bachelor’s turn. We watched until the high-school teacher came onstage. After a couple bids, I hissed at Kimberly, “Come on!”
“Right.” She placed a bid and someone topped it. When I hissed again, she placed another, of $400. A young brunette raised it, another bid came in, then the brunette topped that one. Amarjeet said, “Kimberly, don’t bid again. That woman’s determined. It’s not worth going high enough to win.”
“You’re right. Sorry, Jade, this isn’t your guy.” Her giggle told me she, too, was tipsy.
After another few bachelors, it was the doctor. “Bid on this one,” I reminded Kimberly.
“Have you thought seriously about his job?”
“He’s a family practitioner. What’s not to like?”
“He spends a lot of time peering up women’s vaginas,” Kimberly said, loudly enough that we both hushed her.
“It’s his job,” I said.
“But isn’t it kind of creepy?” She gave an exaggerated grimace. “Wouldn’t you feel weird, going to bed with him after he’d spent his day doing that?”
Surely doctors viewed the female bodies they saw at work in an objective, professional way. And the female body in their personal life in a completely different manner. Didn’t they?
“I heard a talk show the other day,” Kimberly said, “where some doctors said they couldn’t do gynecology or general practice because the vagina thing made them uncomfortable.”
“Well, he’s obviously not one of them.”
“No, but—”
“Moot point,”
