Ten years ago, Anne Sayer was one of the hired help in Connor Emory’s family home on Candlewick Island, Maine. Despite their social differences, Connor and Anne fell in love and spent an idyllic summer together. Then Anne broke it off, giving no reason, and the heartbroken Connor left for college and a career. Now Connor is back, retuning to Candlewick Island and the family mansion, where Anne is now the housekeeper.

She’s nervous about seeing Connor, but soon after they do meet again, Anne decides to ensnare him once more. The problem is, she’s never explained why she dumped him all those years ago, and that explanation isn’t forthcoming anytime soon in this story. Also, Connor has his overly-Italian Uncle Marcello and Marcello’s two daughters with him, to add flavor to the story, I guess. Connor plans to sell the house to Marcello, and when he does, all of the current staff will be replaced by Marcello’s own staff. That includes Anne.

The assorted eccentric staff members decide to prevent the sale by pretending the house is haunted, making it look like it’s falling apart, and various other wacky schemes, none of which elicited more than a twitch of the lips, let alone a chuckle. Meanwhile, Anne and Connor engage in a wary dance of “Let’s Not Discuss the Past” which got on my nerves, fast. Every time (and there must be a half-dozen instances) Connor and Anne could clear things up with a brief conversation, one or the other decides not to talk about it. He doesn’t want to hear it. No, she doesn’t want to tell him. Me, I didn’t want to read it.

It’s hard to think of a way to make characters appear more thickheaded than this. Not only does it reduce them to the level of self-righteous morons, it completely exasperates most readers, who are smart enough to want more substance to their stories than two people stubbornly refusing to face the truth. Connor and Anne, whose attraction is quite palpable, are wasted under these characterizations. By that fateful page 150, I no longer cared what happened to them.

The secondary characters aren’t any more likable. Uncle Marcello, the happy Italian matchmaker, is one step this side of a cartoon. Connor’s stepmother is a cardboard bitch, and Anne’s grandmother, who is supposedly the reason Anne stayed on the island all these years, is domineering and selfish. None of them elicited more than a sense of distaste.

The possibilities were there, though. Anne and Connor, when they weren’t Not Talking About Their Past, had some genuinely intimate moments, ones that illuminated the author’s potential. They seemed to have a nice friendship, which would have been a fine basis to build on.

In the end, If the Slipper Fits didn’t work. Unless you have a mountain of patience for this type of plot, give this one a pass.

--Cathy Sova