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a pumpkin cake.”
    “Wow, that’s original!” said Piper as her mind raced. Her mother had a fantastic recipe for pumpkin cake.
    “Actually, Piper, I was wondering if you would be willing to let someone else make the cake itself and you put it together and decorate it.”
    “I don’t understand,” said Piper.
    “Well, my sister is a nun, and her convent supports itself by selling pumpkin bread made in their kitchen. It would mean a great deal to us to include the convent in our wedding in some way, though none of the nuns will be able to attend, since they’re cloistered. They are willing to make the cake for us. We think the publicity they could get from this might bring more attention to their pumpkin-bread business.”
    “Sorry, I’m a little confused,” said Piper. “I thought you wanted a quiet wedding—that you didn’t want attention.”
    “That’s right,” said Jillian. “I don’t. But I’m sure we’re going to get it anyway.”

Chapter 11
    N ew Year’s Day or not, Irene Wallace Abernathy was with her personal trainer, stretching, twisting, and lifting weights. She was willing to pay extra for the holiday session. She thrived on Jake’s unflagging attention and the way he flirted with her. Jake made her feel desirable.
    At forty-six, Irene was keenly aware that men didn’t look at her the way they once had. There was a time when she dreaded passing a construction site, bracing herself for the whistles and catcalls that always ensued. Now the workmen didn’t even look up from what they were doing.
    It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive. She knew she was. She still had a trim figure, and her face, thanks to the wonders of Elysium, was almost unlined. Irene had taken very good care of herself over the years, making use of the steep employee discount for all her treatments and classes. Now, as Mrs. Vernon Abernathy, she paid nothing.
    Still, time and gravity had changed things. It was a constant battle against crepey skin and sagging sinew.
    As she panted through her stomach crunches on the floor of the expansive great room, Irene heard the phone ring.
    “Do you want to answer that?” asked Jake, his arms rippling with muscles as he held her feet to the floor.
    “No, Vernon will get it,” she said, pushing a strand of ash-blond hair from her brow.
    It was nice having Vernon home today. There were no surgeries scheduled, and he’d promised they would have the day together, just the two of them. They were going to play some golf this afternoon. Irene hoped that the phone call didn’t mean he was needed at Elysium. There was always something. Vernon had finally sold his house in Beverly Hills, where he’d lived with his first wife, Caryn, and built the place they lived in now. The new place was on the periphery of the Elysium property, so he would be right there when needed.
    Irene winced as she heard her husband’s booming voice.
    “Jillian, darling. Happy New Year!” Irene couldn’t help but notice the enthusiasm and joy in his tone.
    There was no getting around it. More than his cosmetic-surgery practice, more than Elysium, more than their marriage, Vernon’s relationship with his daughters was most precious to him. It was exceedingly fortunate that his older daughter, Nina, was in a cloister and wasn’t able to pop in or call all the time. But Jillian was always in their lives, taking Vernon’s attention away.
    While she understood that it was natural that Vernon doted on Jillian, Irene thought their lives were too intertwined. Jillian was a grown woman, after all. Vernon didn’t have to rush to make things better every time she stubbed her toe.
    If this wedding ever happened, perhaps Ben would be able to weaken the excessive father-daughter bond. But Irene wasn’t counting on that.
    It was frustrating not being number one in Vernon’s life, but she was doing all she could to earn that spot. Vernon would see how affectionate and supportive she was as she helped Jillian