Gretchen leaned against the driver’s side door and kept her feet glued to the pavement lest she do a happy dance right there in the elementary school parking lot.
“Could we schedule a time to get together? I’d love to see your product line in person.”
Gretchen realized that her mouth was open as she nodded her head. “Absolutely. What would be a good time for you?”
“I’m swamped till Thursday. Are you free on Friday?”
She had class on Friday of course. The kids would be bouncing off the walls. “I’m free after four. Would that work?”
“Sure thing.”
They discussed a few more details and where to meet and by the time Gretchen slid behind the wheel she was flying high. Her designs might appear in one of the premier stationary and gift shops in Atlanta.
She gave a little squee of excitement and wiggled around in her seat. Things were finally happening. It was amazing how one phone call could change her whole energy level, her emotional plane.
She needed a new outfit.
Okay so really she just needed a skirt to replace the one that had become an art project last week but she wanted something that told the world, Lillith included, that she was a confident, stylish businesswoman.
Gretchen stopped by a boutique she passed every day but had never been in. The clothes were fun and dare she say flirty? Bright colors, pleasing prints, interesting little details that her current wardrobe lacked. And that was why she was here, to turn over a new leaf. Everyone at school had loved her hair, especially the little boy who’d used her skirt as a finger painting canvas last week.
She needed to update her wardrobe if she was going to complete her mini makeover and convince Lillith to sell her merchandise, she reasoned. Thanks to the picture of Lillith accompanying the magazine article that the other woman was incredibly stylish. As her grandmother used to say, the other woman was a “sharp dresser.”
Glancing up at the walls where stylish mannequins were dressed in cute outfits her gaze landed on a short white skirt. Baby would definitely wear that. Gretchen however couldn’t get away with anything that short. But the pastel pink pencil skirt next to it...she loved that. Sometimes she thought she’d been born in the wrong decade. The style of the fifties was so tailored and flattering to a figure like hers. But she’d always been self-conscious about her curves.
The saleslady meandered over. “That would look great on you.”
Gretchen looked down at her long baby blue skirt that did more to hide her than to admit she was a woman. The cream turtleneck wasn’t much better, but it was cold out. So the outfit was practical.
“You think so?” As much as she liked the style, she wasn’t convinced she could pull off anything in this store. Heat rose up the back of her neck and across her cheeks. The urge to dart out the front door and drive away was strong.
“Of course. I know two things: clothes and bodies. Let’s go see if we have your size, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, still wondering if there was time to make a run for it.
“Sixteen?” the saleswoman guessed.
“Yeah.” Gretchen gripped her purse a little tighter, but then forced her fingers to relax. She needed this, a new look and a shot of confidence to go with it.
“Lucky sixteen.”
“Lucky sixteen?” That was the first she’d heard of it. Sweet sixteen, of course, but when it came to clothing sizes, the closer you were to zero, the better, right? Not that she really cared. She was healthy and she had her grandmother’s hips. Grandma assured her when it came time to have babies, she’d be praising God for her hips because the little bundles of joy would slide right out.
Just one more thing to torment over. The fact that she clearly had child bearing hips and was still husbandless with no baby on the horizon. But that’s what the make-over was about. Changing her appearance and attitude. Letting go of her notions and going after what she wanted. Being a good girl obviously wasn’t getting her anywhere quickly. And it’s not like she was going to wear skimpy clothes, just more fashionable; something less potato sack looking.
“Studies have shown that women are happiest when they’re a size sixteen.”
Gretchen’s eyebrows crept upward. “Really?”
“Even after they’ve lost weight and get down to say a ten or twelve, they were happier at sixteen.”
Gretchen’s jaw dropped. Could that be true? If so, why did women work out for hours and diet like crazy? Why did they all want to be thin?
The saleswoman smiled revealing perfect white teeth. “It’s true. If I had to wager a guess, I’d bet that since designers make clothes to fit smaller models, women with more curves have a hard time dressing themselves to look fashionable. I usually see them wearing skimpy clothing where everything is all over the place.” She made a face of horror. “Or―”
“We cover up,” Gretchen inserted.
The other woman nodded and stuck out her hand. “I’m Michelle, by the way.”
“Gretchen.”
“Nice to meet you Gretchen.”
Her head was spinning. All this time she’d been covering up, mostly because she didn’t want to look like her mother who had never worn age appropriate clothing a day in her life. But also because she just wore whatever was comfortable. Occasionally she’d buy a piece outside of her comfort zone, usually at one of her girlfriends’ behest.
She’d never really given much thought to the fact that she simply didn’t know how best to flatter her curves.
“Here you go. And I’m going to suggest this top.” She handed over the skirt and a pale gray top in a light weight material. “The tailoring will emphasize your curves.”
“Emphasize?” Did they really want to be emphasizing curves?
“You’ll see.”
Three minutes later, Gretchen did see. She saw a lot. The skirt hugged her hips and dropped just below her knees. But she didn’t look like a stuffed sausage like she’d feared. The top flowed over her skin like lotion, highlighting the dip of her waist without being too clinging. A different bra was in order. Something that lifted the girls a bit more.
Heavens, she needed new bras. That was always a trip to the torture chamber. But in this outfit it was plainly obvious that the grab-and-dash number she was wearing wasn’t doing much for her figure. That was the problem with well-fitting clothes. They didn’t hide much.
She turned to the side.
She was kind of a knockout. Voluptuous and dare she say sexy? Turning a little further she noticed the delicate slit up the back of the skirt. Yep. Sexy.
She’d need heels. High heels. Real ones; not the short two inch version she kept around for special occasions. She needed real special occasions, too.
“What size shoe do you wear, Gretchen?” Michelle called from the other side of the door.
Her eyebrows lifted. It was almost like Michelle was psychic. “Eight.”
A shoebox slid beneath the three-quarter sized door. “Try those on and then come show me.”
Gretchen sat down very carefully on the small bench and was surprised at how easily the skirt moved with her. There was some give to the fabric which she appreciated. Honestly, she’d been holding her breath expecting a busted seam.
She opened the box and found a pair of black peep toe heels. They were definitely higher than her standard two inchers and reminded her of something a pin-up would wear. Admiring the satin material, she ran a fingertip down the length of the heel.
Before she could let doubts and uncertainty creep back in, she put on the shoes and stood. After wobbling a few times she pulled her shoulders down and back, lifted her chin and stared at her reflection. If she’d been sexy before she was in bombshell territory now. Even she could see that. The only thing she was lacking was smoky eye make-up and a hot date.
Baby would approve.
Gretchen opened the door and stepped out.
Michelle was busy organizing the check-out counter but turned and gave Gretch
en a quick once over. “Perfect. I knew that would suit you.”
She had more faith than Gretchen did. And better taste.
This time when Gretchen looked down, she saw curves and pretty fabrics, an elegant color scheme and sex kitten heels. They weren’t exactly, well, she didn’t say that word, but they were closer than anything else she’d ever put on her feet. She wondered what Greg would think if he could see her in this outfit.
“I love it,” Gretchen admitted. She just hoped she didn’t hate the price.
Her worry must have shown on her face because Michelle smiled again. “Lucky for you, the shirt is twenty five percent off and so are the heels.”
“Excellent.” She could use every bit of help she could get. Even with a Master’s degree, teachers didn’t get paid very much.
“Do you think it’s too...sexy for a business meeting? I have a new job opportunity on Friday and the woman I’m meeting is really stylish. Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“I think your meeting will go very well, especially with that outfit.”
“Thanks.”
With a renewed confidence, she went back into the dressing room, contemplating if she should just wear the outfit home. But she really needed a better bra before she wore this blouse again.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow she’d go by that nice bra shop in downtown Roseville. It hadn’t been there very long but JJ raved about it.
With her boring skirt and turtle neck on again, shoes tucked back into the box and chic outfit on the hangers, she returned to the front of the store.
“Thanks so much for your help. I’ll definitely be back,” Gretchen said as she fished her debit card out of her purse. All in all, just over one hundred dollars wasn’t terrible for a great new outfit and a pair of shoes, right? And she didn’t think anything needed tailoring, not that she’d ever had anything tailored. Occasionally she raised the hem on a pair of pants, but Cindy and Baby sang the praises of getting outfits tailored. Gretchen’s wardrobe was dowdy. Not any more though. Tonight she was hitting the internet to look for clearance pieces. And she was going to enlist her girlfriend’s help.
“You’re most welcome. I’ve actually considered opening another store. I try to offer as many sizes as I can, and let’s face it, how many stores sell ten and below? I’m a fourteen myself and I have trouble dressing me.” Michelle laughed and Gretchen warmed to her. She guessed that the other woman was maybe five or ten years older but she had confidence in spades. And style.
And she was a business owner. Gretchen was impressed.
“I’d shop there,” she said and realized she meant it. No more oversized sweaters, no more high necked t-shirts that made her look like a human box.
“That’s good to hear. Enjoy the outfit Gretchen.”
“Thanks.”
Gretchen smiled as she stepped out into the cool spring air. The setting sun warmed her face and for a brief moment, she stood on the sidewalk, closed her eyes and soaked everything in. It was going to be a great week. For once she felt like everything she’d ever wanted was in her grasp.
The new outfit, Lillith’s call, plus her new hairdo, were giving her a much needed confidence boost. Not to mention there was a sinfully handsome man waiting for her at home.
Just like she had every workday for the past year, she opened the front door, put her purse and keys on the entry table and stepped out of her shoes. Her feet soaked in the coolness of the hard wood flooring as she stepped into the living room. Greg was stretched out on the sofa, hands poised over his laptop.
“Hey. How was your day?” she asked as she sat the bag down on the opposite sofa and sank into the cushions.
“All right. You?”
He didn’t sound too happy and she frowned.
“Cabin fever?”
“How’d you guess,” he asked dryly.
“Because you haven’t been outside in four days and you strike me as an outdoorsy type of guy.” Which was totally true. From what she knew he loved being outside. Playing touch football, helping out around his dad’s house, the yearly Fairchild camping trip, he was a manly man. An outdoorsmen if she’d ever seen one.
“It’s not just being trapped inside—”
“I know. You’re sore and you’ve got things to do. Did you make any progress on your inbox?”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
“I did.”
“And you’ve got your to do list sorted out?”
“Yeah. I met with some of my subcontractors today. Before you start worrying about me over-exerting myself, I invited them over here. Hope that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’m glad you’re getting yourself organized.”
He nodded. “I touched base with clients so we wouldn’t get too far behind.”
Even though it seemed like he’d had a productive day there was still a wealth of tension in his body. Maybe he was out of medicine.
Surprisingly, his mood wasn’t enough to dampen her spirits. She scooted the tray to the other end of the ottoman and took its place. Wondering if her touch still had the power to chase away his pain, she reached for his hand.
“I got a call from Lillith White today. Know anything about that?” she asked with a smile.
He shrugged. “I called her. I’d done some work for her a few years back. What’d she say?”
“She wants to meet and look at my stuff.” She tried to contain her glee but couldn’t stop herself from doing a little side-to-side wiggle dance.
“Great.” A slight smile curved his lips and some of the tension seemed to leave his jaw.
She wanted to kiss him, wipe away all the frustration from his day. Instead, she squeezed his hand. “Thank you for calling her. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
“No problem.”
She held his gaze for a few long seconds before he glanced at his laptop. For some reason she’d expected more from him, a warm discussion at the very least. But he obviously had other things on his mind and wasn’t nearly as excited about this new opportunity as she was. Not that he should be.
She licked her lips and released his hand. Not being able to do his work was obviously weighing heavily on him. And according to JJ, he was nearly ready to put the condo the two of them had flipped on the market.
She was starting to wonder if he needed to see a therapist. In the decade that she’d known him, he’d never been what she’d call moody. But since Friday he’d had more ups and downs than a rollercoaster at Six Flags.
“Well, while I fix dinner why don’t you decide what JJ and I can finish on your condo. That way you’ll be that much farther along and you can schedule a visit with your realtor.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“Maybe. But you need help and I’m offering, so you should probably take me up on it while I’m still available.” She softened her words with a smile. His mouth was set in a deep frown.
“Want to tell me what’s really bothering you?” she asked quietly. He slammed the laptop closed and shoved it down the length of his legs.
“Ryan came by today.”
Gretchen tried to place the name. “Your friend from the accident?”
He nodded.
She wanted to ask how it went but the look in his eyes, the pinch in his brows told her the experience had been painful. She reached for his hand again.
“How’s he doing?”
Greg bit out a short, sharp laugh. “Better than me. He can’t remember the accident and his bruises are healing.”
He gripped her hand tightly. “He’s lucky he can’t remember. I can’t get the damn sounds out of my head.”
And that was what was frustrating him. He didn’t need to tell her that; she could understand how sounds and memories could torment a person.
She wasn’t sure what to say or how to offer him comfort so she sat silently, a firm grip on his hand to remind him he wasn’t alone.
Maybe she should mention seeing a professiona
l for help or perspective but she wasn’t sure that was her place.
“I feel like an asshole for envying his ability to walk in here without crutches, no aches and pains and no memories. And then I feel guilty for feeling like an asshole.”
“It’s a vicious cycle,” she murmured.
“No kidding.”
He finally met her gaze, reluctantly as if he was scared of what he find when he looked at her.
“For what it’s worth, you might be moody but you’re not an...asshole. You never have been and I don’t think you ever will be. It’s not in the Fairchild DNA. I think it’s normal to envy those doing better than you. Maybe a little bit of envy is healthy? It probably makes you work harder. Or maybe you’re wondering why he got to sit in the front where the airbags protected him more? But the reality is, the past is the past. He was in the front. You were in the back. Peter died. Ryan can’t remember the accident and you can’t forget it. Neither is right or wrong. Neither is totally good or bad. How you come out of this is a tribute to your character and those memories will make you a stronger person.”
He stared at her for several long silent moments and she worried she’d gone too deep-and-mushy on him. As the moments ticked by her anxiety ratcheted up.
“But what do I know,” she said when she couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I’ve never been in an accident like that before.”
She offered him a smile and he squeezed her hand.
“No,” he murmured. “You’re right.”
He dropped his gaze to where their hands touched.
“Totally right. It was luck of the draw and there’s not anything I can do to change the past. I couldn’t save Peter during the accident and I can’t bring him back now.”
He took a deep breath and then looked up at her again. A little more of the tension had drained away. “How’d you get so wise?”
“It’s a gift,” she quipped and her stomach growled.
He grinned and then his gaze skipped over her left shoulder.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked as she stood.
Falling for His Fake Fiancée (Book 2, Girls' Night Trilogy) Page 18