A Fine Romance <\/p>\n
Katie McKenna had dreamed of this moment at least a thousand times. Luc would walk back into her life filled with remorse. He\u2019d be wearing jeans, a worn T-shirt, and humility. He\u2019d be dripping with humility. <\/p>\n
That should have been her first clue that such a scenario had no bearing on reality. <\/p>\n
\u201cKatie,\u201d a voice said. <\/p>\n
The sound sent a surge of adrenaline through her frame. She\u2019d forgotten the power and the warmth of his baritone. A quick glance around her classroom assured her that she must be imagining things. Everything was in order: the posters of colorful curriculum, the daily schedule of activities printed on the whiteboard, and, of course, the children. All six of them were mentally disabled, most of them on the severe side of the autism spectrum, but three had added handicaps that required sturdy, head-stabilizing wheelchairs. The bulk of the chairs overwhelmed the room and blocked much of the happy yellow walls and part of the large rainbow mural the kids had helped to paint. The room, with its cluttered order, comforted her and reminded her of all she\u2019d accomplished. There was no need to think about the past. That was a waste of time and energy. <\/p>\n
Her eyes stopped on her aides, Carrie and Selena. The two women, so boisterous in personality, were usually animated. But at the moment they stood huddled in the corner behind Austin\u2019s wheelchair. <\/p>\n
Carrie, the heavyset one in the Ed Hardy T-shirt, motioned at her. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Katie pulled at her white shirt with the delicate pink flowers embroidered along the hem and surveyed the stains. \u201cI know, I\u2019m a mess. But did you see how wonderfully the kids did on their art projects? It was worth it. Never thought of the oil on the dough staining. Next time I\u2019ll wear an apron.\u201d <\/p>\n
Selena and Carrie looked as though there was something more they wanted. <\/p>\n
\u201cMaddie, you\u2019re a born artist.\u201d Katie smiled at the little girl sitting behind a mound of colorful clay. Then to the aides: \u201cWhat is the matter with you two?\u201d <\/p>\n
Selena, a slight Latina woman, shook her head and pointed toward the door. <\/p>\n
Katie rotated toward the front of the classroom and caught her breath. Luc, so tall and gorgeous, completely out of place in his fine European suit and a wristwatch probably worth more than her annual salary, stood in the doorway. He wore a fedora, his trademark since college, but hardly one he needed to stand out in a crowd. <\/p>\n
As she stared across the space between them, suddenly the classroom she took such pride in appeared shabby and soiled. When she inhaled, it reeked of sour milk and baby food. Her muddled brain searched for words. <\/p>\n
\u201cLuc?\u201d She blinked several times, as if his film-star good looks might evaporate into the annals of her mind. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cDidn\u2019t you get my brother\u2019s wedding invitation?\u201d he asked coolly, as if they\u2019d only seen each other yesterday. <\/p>\n
\u201cI did. I sent my regrets.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m doing here. You can\u2019t miss Ryan\u2019s wedding. I thought the problem might be money.\u201d <\/p>\n
She watched as his blue eyes came to rest on her stained shirt. Instinctively she crossed her arms in front of her. <\/p>\n
\u201cI came to invite you to go back with me next week, on my plane.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAh.\u201d She nodded and waited for something intelligible to come out of her mouth. \u201cIt\u2019s not money.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cCome home with me, Katie.\u201d He reached out his arms, and she moved to the countertop and shuffled some papers together. <\/p>\n
If he touches me, I don\u2019t stand a chance. She knew Luc well enough to know if he\u2019d made the trip to her classroom, he didn\u2019t intend to leave without what he came for. \u201cI\u2019m afraid that\u2019s not possible.\u201d She stacked the same papers again. <\/p>\n
\u201cGive me one reason.\u201d <\/p>\n
She faced him. \u201cI could give you a billion reasons.\u201d <\/p>\n
Luc\u2019s chiseled features didn\u2019t wear humility well. The cross-shaped scar beneath his cheekbone added to his severity. If he weren\u2019t so dreaded handsome, he\u2019d make a good spy in a Bond movie. His looks belied his soft Uptown New Orleans upbringing, the kind filled with celebrations and warm family events with backyard tennis and long days in the swimming pool. <\/p>\n
He pushed through the swiveled half door that separated them and strode toward her. <\/p>\n
\u201cThat gate is there for a reason. The classroom is for teachers and students only.\u201d <\/p>\n
Luc opened his hand and beckoned to her, and despite herself, she took it. Her heart pounded in her throat, and its roar was so thunderous it blocked her thoughts. He pulled her into a clutch, then pushed her away with all the grace of Astaire. \u201cWill you dance with me?\u201d he asked. <\/p>\n
He began to hum a Cole Porter tune clumsily in her ear, and instinctively she followed his lead until everything around them disappeared and they were alone in their personal ballroom. For a moment she dropped her head back and giggled from her stomach; a laugh so genuine and pure, it seemed completely foreign\u2014as if it came from a place within that was no longer a part of her. Then the dance halted suddenly, and his cheek was against hers. She took in the roughness of his face, and the thought flitted through her mind that she could die a happy woman in those arms. <\/p>\n
The sound of applause woke her from her reverie. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou two are amazing!\u201d Carrie said. <\/p>\n
The children all murmured their approval, some with screams of delight and others with loud banging.<\/p>\n
Luc\u2019s hand clutched her own in the small space between them, and she laughed again. <\/p>\n
\u201cNot me,\u201d Luc said. \u201cI have the grace of a bull. It\u2019s Katie. She\u2019s like Ginger Rogers. She makes anybody she dances with look good.\u201d He appealed to the two aides. \u201cWhich is why I\u2019m here. She must go to my brother\u2019s wedding with me.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t even know you danced, Katie,\u201d Selena said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you ever come dancing with us on Friday nights?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? Katie dances like a dream. She and my brother were partners onstage in college. They were like a mist, the way they moved together. It\u2019s like her feet don\u2019t touch the ground.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThat was a long time ago.\u201d She pulled away from him and showed him her shirt. \u201cI\u2019m a mess. I hope I didn\u2019t ruin your suit.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt would be worth it,\u201d Luc growled. <\/p>\n
\u201cKatie, where\u2019d you learn to dance like that?\u201d Carrie asked. <\/p>\n
\u201cToo many old movies, I suppose.\u201d She shrugged. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou could be on Dancing with the Stars with moves like that.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cExcept I\u2019m not a star or a dancer, but other than that, I guess\u2014\u201d She giggled again. It kept bubbling out of her, and for one blissful moment she remembered what it felt like to be the old Katie McKenna. Not the current version, staid schoolmarm and church soloist in Northern California, but the Katie people in New Orleans knew, the one who danced and sang. <\/p>\n
Luc interrupted her thoughts. \u201cShe\u2019s being modest. She learned those moves from Ginger and Fred themselves, just by watching them over and over again. This was before YouTube, so she was dedicated.\u201d <\/p>\n
Katie shrugged. \u201cI was a weird kid. Only child, you know?\u201d But inside she swelled with pride that Luc remembered her devotion to a craft so woefully out-of-date and useless. \u201cAnyway, I don\u2019t have much use for swing dancing or forties torch songs now. Luc, meet Carrie and Selena. Carrie and Selena, Luc.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have any \u2018use\u2019 for salsa dancing,\u201d Selena said. \u201cI do it because it\u2019s part of who I am.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cTell her she has to come with me, ladies. My brother is having a 1940s-themed wedding in New Orleans. He\u2019d be crushed if Katie didn\u2019t come, and I\u2019ll look like a hopeless clod without her to dance with.\u201d <\/p>\n
Katie watched the two aides. She saw the way Luc\u2019s powerful presence intoxicated them. Were they really naive enough to believe that Luc DeForges could ever appear like a clod, in any circumstance or setting? Luc, with his skilled charm and roguish good looks, made one believe whatever he wanted one to believe. The two women were putty in his hands. <\/p>\n
\u201cKatie, you have to go to this wedding!\u201d Selena stepped toward her. \u201cI can\u2019t believe you can dance like that and never told us. You\u2019d let this opportunity slip by? For what?\u201d She looked around the room and frowned. \u201cThis place?\u201d <\/p>\n
The cacophony of pounding and low groans rose audibly, as if in agreement. <\/p>\n
\u201cThis may be just a classroom to you, but to me, it\u2019s the hope and future of these kids. I used to dance. I used to sing. It paid my way through college. Now I\u2019m a teacher.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t be a teacher and a dancer?\u201d Selena pressed. \u201cIt\u2019s like walking and chewing gum. You can do both. The question is, why don\u2019t you?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe I should bring more music and dancing into the classroom. Look how the kids are joining in the noise of our voices, not bothered by it. I have to think about ways we could make the most of this.\u201d <\/p>\n
But she hadn\u2019t succeeded in changing the subject; everyone\u2019s attention stayed focused on her. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou should dance for the kids, Katie. You possess all the grace of an artist\u2019s muse. Who knows how you might encourage them?\u201d <\/p>\n
Katie laughed. \u201cThat\u2019s laying it on a bit thick, Luc, even for you. I do believe if there was a snake in that basket over there, it would be rising to the charmer\u2019s voice at this very minute.\u201d <\/p>\n
Luc\u2019s very presence brought her into another time. Maybe it was the fedora or the classic cut of his suit, but it ran deeper than how he looked. He possessed a sense of virility and take-no-prisoners attitude that couldn\u2019t be further from his blue-blood upbringing. He made her, in a word, feel safe . . . but there was nothing safe about Luc and there never had been. She straightened and walked over to her open folder to check her schedule for the day. <\/p>\n
Tapping a pencil on the binder, she focused on getting the day back on track. The students were involved in free playtime at the moment. While they were all situated in a circle, they played individually, their own favorite tasks in front of them. <\/p>\n
\u201cCarrie, would you get Austin and Maddie ready for lunch?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d Selena said. \u201cAnd, Katie . . . you really should go to the wedding.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t go to the wedding because it\u2019s right in the middle of summer school.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou could get a substitute,\u201d Carrie said. \u201cWhat would you be gone for, a week at most? Jenna could probably fill in. She took the summer off this year.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThanks for the suggestions, ladies,\u201d Katie said through clenched teeth. \u201cBut I\u2019ve already told the groom I can\u2019t attend the wedding for professional reasons.\u201d <\/p>\n
The women laughed. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, what reasons?\u201d Carrie asked, raising a bedpan to imply that anyone could do Katie\u2019s job. <\/p>\n
It was no use. The two women were thoroughly under Luc\u2019s spell, and who could blame them? <\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe we should talk privately,\u201d Luc said. He clasped her wrist and led her to the glass doors at the front of the classroom. \u201cIt\u2019s beautiful out here. The way you\u2019re nestled in the hills, you\u2019d never know there\u2019s a city nearby.\u201d <\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s Crystal Springs Reservoir on the other side of the freeway. It\u2019s protected property, the drinking water for this entire area, so it\u2019s stayed pristine.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going back to New Orleans without you,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n
Apparently the small talk had ended. <\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother would have a fit if I brought one of the women I\u2019d take to a Hollywood event to a family wedding.\u201d <\/p>\n
Katie felt a twinge of jealousy, then a stab of anger for her own weakness. Of course he dated beautiful women. He was a billionaire. A billionaire who looked like Luc DeForges! Granted, he was actually a multimillionaire, but it had been a long-standing joke between the two of them. Did it matter, once you made your first ten million, how much came after that? He may as well be called a gazillionaire. His finances were too foreign for her to contemplate. <\/p>\n
\u201cAnd who you date is my problem, how?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIf my date tries to swing dance and kicks one of my mother\u2019s friends in the teeth, I\u2019ll be disinherited.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cSo what, would that make you the fifth richest man in the United States, instead of the fourth?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cKatie, how many times do I have to explain to you I\u2019m nowhere near those kinds of numbers?\u201d He grinned. \u201cYet.\u201d He touched his finger to her nose lightly. \u201cMy fate is much worse than losing status if you don\u2019t come. My mother might set me up to ensure I have a proper date. A chorus line of Southern belles. And I guarantee you at least one will have the proverbial glass slipper and think her idea is so utterly unique, I\u2019ll succumb to the fantasy.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWow! What a terrible life you must lead.\u201d She pulled a Keds slide from her foot and emptied sand out of her shoe. A few grains landed on Luc\u2019s shiny black loafer. \u201cTo think, with courtship skills like that, that any woman wouldn\u2019t be swept off her feet\u2014it\u2019s unfathomable.\u201d She patted his arm. \u201cI wish you luck, Luc. I\u2019m sure your mother will have some very nice choices for you, so go enjoy yourself. Perk up, there\u2019re billions<\/p>\n
more to be made when you get back.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cSarcasm doesn\u2019t suit you, Katie.\u201d <\/p>\n
e was right, but she didn\u2019t trust herself around him. She\u2019d taken leave of her senses too many times in that weakened state. Since moving to California, she\u2019d made it her goal to live life logically and for the Lord. She hadn\u2019t fallen victim to her emotions since leaving New Orleans, and she\u2019d invested too much to give into them now. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI only meant that I\u2019m sure there are other nice girls willing to go home and pretend for your mother. I\u2019ve already done that, only you forgot to tell me we were pretending. Remember?\u201d <\/p>\n
He flinched. \u201cBelow the belt.\u201d <\/p>\n
A pencil fell from behind her ear, and she stooped to pick it up, careful not to meet his glance as she rose. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, but I\u2019m busy here. Maybe we could catch up another time? I\u2019d like that and won\u2019t be so sidetracked.\u201d She looked across the room toward Austin, an angelic but severely autistic child in a wheelchair. He pounded against his tray. \u201cThe kids are getting hungry. It\u2019s lunchtime.\u201d She pointed to the schedule. <\/p>\n
Luc scooped a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. \u201cWhere else am I going to find a gorgeous redhead who knows who Glenn Miller is?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t, Luc. Don\u2019t charm me. It\u2019s beneath you. Buy one of your bubble-headed blondes a box of dye and send her to iTunes to do research. Problem solved.\u201d <\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t let go. \u201cRyan wants you to sing at the wedding, Katie. He sent me personally to make sure you\u2019d be there and sing \u2018Someone to Watch Over Me.\u2019 I\u2019m not a man who quits because something\u2019s difficult.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAnyone worth her salt on Bourbon Street can sing that. Excuse me\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cKatie-bug.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cLuc, I asked you kindly. Don\u2019t. I\u2019m not one of your sophisticated girls who knows how to play games. I\u2019m not going to the wedding. That part of my life is over.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThat part of your life? What about that part of you? Where is she?\u201d <\/p>\n
She ignored his question. \u201cI cannot be the only woman you know capable of being your date. You\u2019re not familiar with anyone else who isn\u2019t an actress-slash-waitress?\u201d She cupped his hand in her own and allowed herself to experience the surge of energy. \u201cI have to go.\u201d She dropped his hands and pushed back through the half door. \u201cI\u2019m sure you have a meeting to get to. Am I right?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d he admitted. \u201cI had business in San Francisco today, a merger. We bought a small chain of health food stores to expand the brand. But I was planning the trip to see you anyway and ask you personally.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cUh-huh.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll be doing specialty outlets in smaller locations where real estate prices are too high for a full grocery outlet. Having the natural concept already in these locations makes my job that much easier.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cTo take over the free world with organics, you mean?\u201d <\/p>\n
That made him smile, and she warmed at the sparkle in his eye. When Luc was in his element, there was nothing like it. His excitement was contagious and spread like a classroom virus, infecting those around him with a false sense of security. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that the man sold inspiration by the pound. His power over her was universal. It did not make her special. <\/p>\n
\u201cName your price,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m here to end this rift between us, whatever it is, and I\u2019ll do the time. Tell me what it is you want.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThere is no price, Luc. I don\u2019t want anything from you. I\u2019m not going to Ryan\u2019s wedding. My life is here.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cDay and night . . . night and day,\u201d he crooned and then his voice was beside her ear. \u201cOne last swing dance at my brother\u2019s wedding. One last song and I\u2019ll leave you alone. I promise.\u201d <\/p>\n
She crossed the room to the sink against the far wall, but she felt him follow. She hated how he could make every nerve in her body come to life, while he seemingly felt nothing in return. She closed her eyes and searched for inner strength. He didn\u2019t want me. Not in a way that mattered. He wanted her when it suited him to have her at his side. <\/p>\n
\u201cEven if I were able to get the time off work, Luc, it wouldn\u2019t be right to go to your brother\u2019s wedding as your date. I\u2019m about to get engaged.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cEngaged?\u201d He stepped away. <\/p>\n
She squeezed hand sanitizer onto her hands and rubbed thoroughly. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll give a call to your fianc\u00e9 and let him know the benefits.\u201d He pulled a small leather pad of paper from his coat pocket. \u201cI\u2019ll arrange everything. You get a free trip home, I get a Christian date my mother is proud to know, and then your life goes back to normal. Everyone\u2019s happy.\u201d He took off his fedora as though to plead his case in true gentlemanly fashion. \u201cMy mother is still very proud to have led you from<\/p>\n
your . . .\u201d He choked back a word. \u201cFrom your previous life and to Jesus.\u201d <\/p>\n
The announcement of her engagement seemed to have had little effect on Luc, and Katie felt as if her heart shattered all over again. \u201cMy previous life was you. She was proud to lead me away from her son\u2019s life.\u201d She leaned on the countertop, trying to remember why she\u2019d come to the kitchen area. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I meant.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t exactly a streetwalker, Luc. I was a late-night bar singer in the Central District, and the only one who ever led my reputation into question was you. So I\u2019m failing to see the mutual benefit here. Your mother. Your date. And I get a free trip to a place I worked my tail off to get out of.\u201d <\/p>\n
She struggled with a giant jar of applesauce, which Luc took from her and opened easily. He passed the jar back to her and let his fingers brush hers. <\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother would be out of her head to see you. And the entire town could see what they lost when they let their prettiest belle go. Come help me remind them. Don\u2019t you want to show them that you\u2019re thriving? That you didn\u2019t curl up and die after that awful night?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI really don\u2019t need to prove anything, Luc.\u201d She pulled her apron, with its child-size handprints in primary colors, over her head. \u201cI\u2019m not your fallback, and I really don\u2019t care if people continue to see me that way. They don\u2019t know me.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhich you? The one who lives a colorless existence and calls it holy? Or the one who danced on air and inspired an entire theater troupe to rediscover swing and raise money for a new stage?\u201d Luc bent down, took her out at the knees, and hoisted her up over his shoulder. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing? Do you think you\u2019re Tarzan? Put me down.\u201d She pounded on his back, and she could hear the chaos he\u2019d created in the classroom. \u201cThese kids need structure. What do you think you\u2019re doing? I demand you put me down!\u201d<\/div>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m about halfway through this book. I promise to post a full review within the next couple of days – once I’m finished reading it. ~Cecelia Dowdy~ It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[38,37],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-276","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-first-wild-card-blog-tour","category-thomas-nelson"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paovYP-4s","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=276"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=276"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=276"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=276"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882\"](\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/TA3PbPpKjHI\/AAAAAAAAEFE\/e9Dq6nSnpCA\/s200\/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg\")
<\/a><\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576730582897159922\"](\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-LOMuimk01Mo\/TWSG6xmkbvI\/AAAAAAAAE1E\/9p2jz8nrmIg\/s200\/Kristin%2BBillerbeck.jpg\")
<\/a>Kristin Billerbeck was born in California to an Italian father and a strong Norwegian\/German mother. Her mother tried to teach her to do things right, how to cook, clean, sew, and budget accordingly\u2014all the things a proper girl should know in order to be a contributing member of society. Yet Billerbeck said she \u201cfailed miserably,\u201d although her grandmother must still hold some hope since she gave her a cookie gun for her 40th birthday.<\/p>\n![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576730507468145346\"](\"http:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-eIitNsN_piM\/TWSG2Ym5AsI\/AAAAAAAAE08\/JB-98S-JvCc\/s200\/A%2BBillion%2BReasons%2BWhy.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n![](\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/TA3PbPpKjHI\/AAAAAAAAEFE\/e9Dq6nSnpCA\/s1600\/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg\"){kind=link}