by Lee, Dana
Chapter 6
Sunday is the busiest day of the week at the store, so I didn’t get a lot of time to think as the day went on. And that was probably a good thing, because thinking too much would have made me even more nervous about tonight’s date with Levy. What would it be like to be out in public with a star?
I had called Jess that morning to ask if I could borrow the Marc Bouwer dress she’d bought a couple of months ago, a hot pink, silk sheath that leaves one shoulder bare. When there was a break in the flow of customers, we told Dan to cover for us for a few minutes and then ran back to the dressing room like excited teenagers. Her dress hugged every curve of my body, and the bare left shoulder felt sexy and seductive.
“You’re sure he’s worth this dress?” she teased.
“I’m sure I’m worth this dress,” I told her.
“Do I have to tell you to be careful? Remember, this is a guy who hasn’t just been around the block a few times. He’s been around the world a few times.”
“Okay, Auntie Jess,” I said, clasping my hands together and giving her an innocent look.
“Very funny,” she said. “But your old auntie knows what she’s talking about, so really, Kitty, take things easy.”
She switched back into wardrobe consultation mode. “Now please surprise me and say you’ve got something other than Sketchers t-straps for your feet.”
I did surprise her. I pulled out a pair of Jimmy Choo platform shoes with three-inch spike heels. The shoes were covered, heels and all, with multicolored sparkles. Jess was practically drooling.
I had bought these shoes to wear to a wedding. Patrick and I had just broken up so I was going solo to the event, my first solo voyage in a long time, and having these on my feet had given me an ego boost. They cost me more than about three weeks’ worth of groceries, but they made me feel beautiful when I slipped them on. At the wedding reception, a little boy had stared at them for a long time and then, in an awestruck voice, asked, “Are you a princess?” I’d said yes because that’s just how they made me feel.
“Way better than I expected,” Jess said approvingly. “There’s hope for you yet.” She gave me a hug. “Have the best time ever tonight, Kit. You deserve it!”
# # # # #
We worked steadily until about 1:00, and then I was surprised and delighted to see Ally walk through the door. It was a relief to see she wasn’t avoiding me, and I was glad we’d have a chance to talk.
She looked lovely, as usual. I saw no sign that her binge the other night had done her any harm. Probably the night had been harder on me than on her, I thought ruefully. She was the one who got to sleep late the next morning.
She was dressed in skinny jeans and a sort of tunic tee-shirt with an asymmetrical hem. Always the fashionista. I knew when people looked at the two of us together they probably thought of Ally as “the pretty one.” That’s what I thought when I saw pictures of the two of us side-by-side. She was the dark-haired beauty of the family. I always thought she looked like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.
I needed to have a serious talk with her about the drinking issue, but I also wanted to confide in her about tonight. Despite the difference in our ages, she’d done a lot more dating than I had. Maybe she could give me some advice.
I gave her a hug. “Hey, Sis, I’m glad to see you!” It made me happy that she had come here to the store.
“You, too,” she said. “Things are looking good here! And busy! Think you can slip out for lunch with me?”
“Just let me finish with this one guy and I’ll get Jess and Dan to take over for a while.”
She had a seat while I finished up. She checked her iPhone for messages, probably took a look at her Facebook page, gazed out the window. She looked perfectly normal. What had I been expecting—dark circles under her eyes? Or had I been wishing she’d show some signs of a guilty conscience?
“How about a quick bite at The Organic Market’s cafe?” I asked as we made our way out the door.
“I was really thinking about someplace where I could get a glass of wine,” she said.
“You’re suggesting this despite the fact that I practically had to carry you out of a frat party the other night?” I asked. It was a struggle to keep my voice quiet enough so the whole store full of people wouldn’t hear what I was saying.
“Kitty, that was no big deal,” she said, “except that I’m probably the laughing stock of that fraternity now that everybody saw you make such a big fuss and drag me out of there. But hey, that’s in the past. It’s a new day. I thought we’d go someplace nice and you could order a couple of glasses of Chardonnay or something and we could sip it together and have a nice time.”
“Drinking midday isn’t my style. And I don’t buy alcohol for minors,” I said. I could feel my body stiffening up, bracing for an argument. This conversation wasn’t starting out at all the way I had hoped.
“Oh, Kitty, you’re such a prude! How did I ever end up with you for a sister?”
I was about to make some snotty reply—nothing quite like sisters for knowing just how to push each other’s buttons—but she put an arm around me and gave me a little sideways squeeze.
“No worries,” she said. “Organic Market it is. Tofu egg salad! My favorite!”
She could always make me laugh. I grinned at her and said, “Well, you could always go with the vegetarian hot dog and baked beans.”
Even though it was October, it was still warm enough to eat outside, so we chose a sidewalk table. She liked to tease me about the health-food fare I often ate, but she enjoyed salads as much as I did and this place made a killer chopped salad that we both loved. We gave the waitress our order and then each took a sip of the ice water she had brought us.
I didn’t know quite where to begin, but I took a breath and plunged right in. “Ally, I’m worried about you. You scared the heck out of me last night.”
“Oh, right. Like you never took a drink in college,” she said mockingly.
“My college drinking career isn’t under discussion here,” I said. “But for the record, I never ended an evening throwing up in a fraternity bathroom.”
“Yay, you,” she said, in the same tone. Then she softened her voice slightly. “Honestly, Kit, it wasn’t a big deal. Alcohol is pretty much the safest thing a girl can get into these days.”
“Why don’t I find that reassuring?” I wondered aloud.
Our salads arrived and we ate in silence for a while.
“So what would you find reassuring?” she finally asked me.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking maybe a room in a convent in some remote village, or maybe a couple of years in a military academy, or maybe just a good old-fashioned ball and chain.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Kitty, seriously!”
So I got serious. “I need to know you’re not turning into an alcoholic.”
“Hold it right there, Kit. I may have had a few drinks too many a couple of times but I’m not an alcoholic.”
I desperately wanted to believe that. “Well, how am I supposed to trust you after this?” I asked her.
Quickly she reached into her purse and pulled out an official-looking document. “I found the perfect apartment off-campus,” she said. “I can move in mid-term—right now if I want. Please, Kitty! If you’ll just sign this contract, I’ll promise to cut back on the booze.”
“Not good enough. I’m your guardian, and I take that responsibility seriously. You’ll have to promise to give up drinking completely if you want me to sign that.”
She didn’t hesitate for a second. “Done!” she said, and she pushed the contract and a pen over to my side of the table.
I wanted her to be happy. Maybe being in a dorm with a bunch of heavy drinkers was the root of her problem. Maybe having a place of her own would make all the difference for her. I picked up the pen and signed.
“Do not forget,” I said. “No alcohol. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Not even a Bud Light.” I held out my
hand to her. “Promise?”
“Absolutely,” she assured me, giving my hand a firm shake across the table. Then she stood up.
“Where are you off to?” I asked. “I was hoping for a little girl talk. I’ve got a hot date tonight and I wanted to tell you all about it.”
“Gotta run. My next class starts in less than an hour. Thanks so much, Kit. I can’t wait to have my own place.” She stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and headed off toward the bus stop. “Great seeing you,” she called back over her shoulder.
I looked after her and I wondered just how she had done it. How had my baby sister managed to manipulate me into giving her exactly what she’d been nagging me for since the fall term began? I was sure she knew I loved her. But my parenting score for the day was something like Love 40, Tough Love 0. My signature on the contract was a reward she didn’t deserve, based on nothing more than a promise that could be easily broken. I shook my head thinking about how skillfully she’d worked me. Maybe she’d be a great salesperson someday.
Or a great con artist.
I paid our bill and headed back to the store. Well, I was determined to make sure she her kept her promise. Somehow.
Chapter 7
The Finish Line closes early on Sunday. In fact, by 3:30 all the shops in town except the restaurants and the coffee shop had shut down. I put the dress Jess had generously loaned me into the garment bag and left. I had to get back here by six. Why hadn’t I thought to give Levi the address of my apartment? Nerves, I guess.
I turned the key in the ignition of my Toyota Camry. Dad owned it for many years before he passed it along to me as a college graduation present and finally bought himself a new car. Ally was always pestering me to get myself a Mini Cooper or a Fiat 500, probably because driving around in a cute little chick car (even one borrowed from her sister) would make her the envy of her friends. But even though the Camry could be a little quirky sometimes, I had no plans to trade it in any time soon, especially now. But I wouldn’t let myself think about my finances. It was date night.
Anyway, I didn’t need a new car to drive me the short distance to and from work. And sitting in the driver’s seat of Old Ray, as we always called it, just where Dad had sat for years, was almost like getting a hug from him. I needed a hug just now.
And I needed someone I could turn to for advice about Ally. Had I been too easy on her? Or should I cut her some slack because she was still mourning the loss of our father? Where did “being understanding” stop and “enabling” begin?
I parked the car in front of the house and took the back stairs up to my apartment. It was filled with furniture left by Dad’s estate, furniture I’d grown up with. There was the old comfy chair that Dad, Ally, and I used to squeeze into for story time, the worn leather couch that Dad had napped on in the den, the old oak coffee table my parents had refinished together. My mother had been an artist, so I had hung many of her paintings on my walls—paintings of our house, paintings of Ally and me when we were very small, paintings of an old family dog I hardly remembered. I sometimes fantasized about giving it all to Good Will and doing an Ikea makeover. But I didn’t. It was home.
I kicked off my shoes and glanced at the clock. Four o’clock. Two hours. I decided to put on some footless tights and a tee-shirt and do a little yoga to pass the time. I needed something to keep me from counting down the minutes and the seconds.
I worked my way through several sun salutations to warm up. Then I began a series of poses to help me relax the muscles in my legs and arms. I was still a little stiff from yesterday’s fall. I ended by sitting in a lotus posture and chanting “Om” to try to clear my mind.
Then I jumped up and made a mad dash for the shower—so much for the calming effects of Yoga—grabbing my favorite scented shower gel from the bathroom shelf. I couldn’t help thinking of Levi’s gentle hands and gentle kisses as I ran the soapy washcloth over my body. I inhaled and smiled to myself. I loved this scent—Graceful, it was called. And gracefulness was definitely what I was hoping to have plenty of tonight. Maybe I could somehow persuade the klutzy side of me to stay home.
I tried to do everything extra slowly so I wouldn’t have time to sit and wait after I was finally all dressed. I toweled my body slowly, dried my hair with extra care, spent several minutes smoothing some Graceful body lotion on my arms and legs so the scent would linger everywhere on my body. I applied mascara and a lip gloss called Damsel. Then I put on my sexiest, pink lace, strapless bra and panties set. I pulled the hot pink silk dress over my head and finally slipped into my princess shoes.
When I looked in the mirror I saw a new Kitty looking back at me. I was now a kitten on the prowl!
After a busy day at the store and a frustrating lunch with Ally, I deserved a night out. More than that—I deserved a little romance.
I glanced at the clock. Perfect. About ten to six. I grabbed a black clutch purse and tucked my driver’s license, lip gloss, and a comb inside. Just the essentials. Then I grabbed my keys and headed out to Old Ray.
I opened the door, settled into the old, familiar driver’s seat, and turned the key in the ignition.
Nothing.
“Old Ray,” I whispered, “not now! This is no time to get temperamental with me.”
I resisted the urge to pump the gas pedal. I waited an excruciating minute or two then tried turning the key a second time. Nothing again. I was stuck here with a car that wouldn’t start. I went for it and pumped the gas, knowing I might flood the gas line. Still nothing. And Levi would be at the store about eight minutes from now. And I had no way to contact him.
I slid out of the car, closed the door, and kicked the side of Old Ray as hard as I could with my Jimmy Choos. Ouch! Bad idea!
The trolley didn’t run after 3:00 on Sunday afternoons, so I had no choice: I dashed back upstairs and laced on a pair of running shoes. If I cut through a bunch of backyards and ran across the highway, I should be able to make it to the store in fewer than twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes. And wasn’t I going to look great by the time I got there! Well, it was that or give up and tune into The Bachelor again tonight.
No way, I thought. I stuffed my princess shoes into a backpack along with my purse and took off running.
All I’ve got to say is that if you’re ever tempted to try to run in a strapless underwire bra and a tight sheath dress, don’t do it. Or if you really must do it, don’t top things off with a backpack, however light.
I couldn’t run at anywhere near my normal pace. The backpack strap cut into my bare shoulder and the pack itself smacked into my shoulder blades with each step. And you don’t even want to know about the beating my boobs took, bobbing uncomfortably in the lacy underwire. Strapless bras were a pain at the best of times but now this one was slipping down somewhere around my rib cage. Well, there was no way I was going to stop and try to pull it up out here in front of the whole town.
As I ran, I started to sweat. Sorry about the dress, Jess! My grandmother had once told me that horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies “dew,” but no, I was sweating.
I was navigating from a sort of mental version of Google Earth, cutting across backyards and open fields, praying for breaks in the traffic as I sprinted across the highway and main streets. I might have found it amusing if I wasn’t so mad at Old Ray—and at myself for cutting the timing so close. Would Levi wait? Or would he have told his limo driver to take him back to the hotel long before I came panting up to the store?
At least I managed not to fall this time. I slowed to a walk when I was about half a block away, but I was still breathing pretty heavily by the time I reached the front of The Finish Line. By some miracle, Levi was there, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the store, eyes closed, head leaning against the store window. I smiled. He was wearing the Finish Line cap I’d given him and the disguise seemed to be working since there was no crowd surrounding him.
He must have heard my footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes an
d his amused glance took in my wind-tousled hair, my pink silk dress, and of course, the ultimate accessory, my sexy-as-all-get-out running shoes.
“You know, JK,” he said, “I would have been happy to pick you up.”
JK—Just Kitty. I guess that meant we were getting friendlier.
“Hey, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m the local running store owner, so I feel like I ought to run everywhere I go. Good for the environment, too.”
He gave me a slightly disbelieving look as he stood up and helped me remove the backpack. The slight touch of his hand against my bare shoulder sent shivers of delight up my spine. The run seemed to have heightened all my senses. I could detect that aftershave of his, subtle, understated. He looked dazzling in a black collarless shirt and dress jeans—and the Finish Line cap, the must-have item that always makes a brilliant fashion statement.
“Yeah, okay, my car wouldn’t start,” I confessed. I unlocked the door and led the way in. I really needed to freshen up. “Doggone it,” I said as we walked in, “here I was hoping to dazzle you in my princess shoes. Best laid plans and all that.”
“Gang aft agley,” he said. Wow, the English major in me was impressed. He picked right up on the quote from the Scottish poet Robert Burns.
“Now, don’t look so surprised—my last name is McCrory,” he said with a grin. “My granny even used to dance the Highland fling for me when I was little.” He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. Be still my heart!
“I just need a few minutes to—um—powder my nose,” I said, turning toward the back of the store.