by Gaelen Foley
“And what about D?” Reg asked, resting her pert chin on her fist.
“There is no D. That’s all I came up with.”
“D, he thinks you’re hot,” Reg said.
Chloe nodded. “Like I said last night, he’s totally into you.”
Bea bit her lip, unsure if she dared to believe it. What that could mean. Where all this might be going…
“Whatevs,” she mumbled after a moment, but she could feel the flames creeping up her neck as her friends laughed at her.
“Oh, shut up, you guys,” she protested, trying not to laugh, too. “I just need to keep telling myself this is kind of like, you know, a conciliatory business meeting and nothing more, or I might freak out.”
“Nothing wrong with freaking out, Beatrice. I do it all the time,” Jules said with a wide, beaming grin.
“We love our little spaz,” Reg remarked, patting Jules affectionately on the knee.
The librarian shrugged cheerfully and took a sip of wine while Chloe rose to her feet.
“Well…” Bea glanced into the full-length cheval mirror that Chloe now dragged out of her bedroom. “The way I see it, here’s the big question. Once I finally get it through his skull that I’m not going along with his agenda, will he still be interested in me? Like, as a person? Until I get a read on that, this is just a glorified business dinner, as far as I’m concerned.”
Her friends exchanged raised eyebrows.
“Okay, then,” Jules said, pursing her rosy lips. “Let’s get you dressed for this business meeting, shall we?” She set her wine aside, jumped up from her chair, and then sashayed over to the waiting pile of clothes on Chloe’s red velvet couch. “Time for the fashion show.”
Jules proceeded to present Bea with each dress from a tall stack of choices her friends had assembled. As usual, the redhead would play the role of lead stylist, since she was always dressed to perfection herself.
To her friends’ amusement and fond admiration, Jules worked diligently to fend off the stereotype of the frumpy librarian, taking tips from fashion magazines to look like a literary goddess every day. Having grown up as a nerdy bookworm, complete with knee socks, center part, and glasses, she had suffered enough teasing during puberty for being born super smart and, sadly, super clumsy. She refused to look the part of the spinster-librarian version of Mary from It’s a Wonderful Life.
Even now, Jules’ royal-blue sheath dress set off her long, smooth ginger locks and golden-green eyes. They sparkled as she held up the first offering. “Here’s a nice turquoise cocktail dress.”
Bea crunched into a celery stick, squinting as she looked the dress over.
“A gently plunging neckline, semi-formal, nice and short,” Jules continued, wriggling her eyebrows toward Bea’s legs. “I wore this one to that fundraiser last year when I broke my ankle. Remember?”
“Oh, the whole world remembers that one, babe,” Reg said under her breath.
Poor Jules had suffered a humiliating night as hostess of a gala to raise money last year for the library. She had looked beautiful, but the lovable klutz had left the black-tie event in an ambulance, crying in pain after tripping over a microphone cord.
Oddly enough, in the weeks following the disaster, a stream of donations had poured in with larger-than-expected checks attached to sympathy cards from people expressing how sorry they were for her unfortunate mishap.
In the end, she was thrilled with the amount she had raised, and attributed much of it to her embarrassing fall. She was happily willing to suffer like that for the sake of her library.
“Hmm,” Bea said, considering the teal cocktail gown. “Unfortunately, I don’t know if I can pull that off in the chestal area.” She motioned toward herself. Though gracefulness was something Julia lacked, she had been generously gifted in the bosom department.
“Maybe that had something to do with all those donations,” Reg had once remarked.
But Chloe reached over and squeezed her forearm. “Don’t worry, Bea, you’ll be stunning no matter what you pick.” Then she got up again and padded in her stealthy way back toward the kitchen with a shiver. “It’s a little too cold for white wine tonight. I’m gonna open a red.”
The girls could hear her banging around in the liquor cabinet before she returned, uncorking a good bottle of Merlot, while Julia presented the next dress.
“Moving on. Here’s one of our dear Chloe’s.” She threw the turquoise one aside and held up a floor-length beige dress with spaghetti straps and a delicate woven rope for tying around the waist. “Long and luscious. Maybe a little too boho for you, though?”
“Ooooh,” Chloe said from the doorway, still twisting the corkscrew. “I love how that one hangs, but I better warn you, it has bad juju, at least for me. Terrible night with that violin guy last summer.”
All the girls groaned, laughing to recall the famous Symphony Slime-balls.
The orchestra had come to town last summer, and Jules, thrilled about it, had insisted they all get dolled up for a night out to enjoy some real culture.
After what the other three later deemed to be a snooze-fest, the girls topped off their evening at the Knickpoint for some drinks. Before long, a few of the musicians from the symphony arrived, taking in some local culture of their own.
Chloe, in particular, had made friends with one of the male violinists at the bar. “I thought he was really cute…sitting down,” she explained with a twinge of guilt in her voice.
“But then he stood up.” Reggie laughed. “And he barely came up to your navel.”
“Didn’t he get sloppy drunk?” Bea asked.
“Yeah, he looked her right in the boobs and asked her to marry him, right then and there,” Jules said.
“I’m sure he’ll make some nice girl very happy someday,” Chloe mumbled.
“What about his friend with the goatee? The one that stuck to me like a tick. What was he, again—the oboe player?” Reggie asked.
They frowned uncertainly.
“Come on, you remember him. He was the one with the bubble-butt,” Reggie said with a raucous laugh.
They shrieked with laughter as it came back to them.
Jules sighed, chuckling, gazing up at the teardrop-shaped crystals glimmering under the chandelier. “You know, those men destroyed my illusions. I really thought world-class classical musicians would be, you know, classier than that.”
“He kept begging me to show him the waterfalls before they left town.” Reg snorted. “We all know you don’t go showing just any guy the falls.”
“Of course not. He has to be something special,” Chloe agreed.
Bea lifted her eyebrows, but pressed her lips shut.
“What’s with the face?” Reg asked, eyeing her with suspicion.
“Umm…” Bea finally blurted it out: “I took Harry to the falls.”
Suddenly, all chatter and giggling went silent.
All eyes focused on Bea.
“He saved my life, you guys. What?”
No one said a word.
All the girls stared at her, silent. Drank.
“Just help me find a dress,” she pleaded.
At last, Jules raised an eyebrow at her with her sternest strict librarian look, then held up the bohemian-style beige dress again. “Yay or nay on this one, darling?”
“It’s fabulous,” Bea said, “but I don’t have Chloe’s mile-long legs. This thing will drag on the floor with me in it.”
“Onward,” Jules said, and threw that one on the pile, too. When she held up the next one—the only dress Bea had brought from her own wardrobe—Reg simply recoiled.
“Oh, God, no! Are you kidding me?”
“Oh, it’s pretty,” Chloe said. “I like the little butterflies embroidered around the hem.”
“No. Just no. Nothing says virgin like a white sundress, Bea. You are not wearing that out to Apex with Porsche Guy. Save it for the fricking church potluck.”
“I don’t even know why I brought it,”
Bea said with a sigh. “It’s way too cold for that anyway.”
“It has been cold out today,” Chloe agreed. “Weird, huh? What’s going on with Mother Nature?”
“Wish I knew.” Bea shook her head. “But you’re right. She’s up to something. I’m worried.”
“You’re always worried, Beatrice, but not tonight, okay?” Jules insisted. “It’s fun time! A dreamy guy who saved your life is taking you out for a five-star meal.”
“Yeah, and she’s got be there soon, so let’s figure out what she’s wearing. We’re on a timetable here, people. Let her try one of mine now, because, so far, you two totally suck as fairy godmothers,” Reg said.
“Hey!” Jules and Chloe exchanged a glance, laughing indignantly.
Reg popped up from her seat and marched over to the pile. “You’re closer to my size, anyway. Here. This one”—she picked up a short, satiny maroon cocktail dress with sheer cap sleeves—“was my breakup dress with Doctor Have-You-Met-My-Wife?” Reg growled under her breath at the mention of the revelation that had shocked even her, the unflappable EMT. “Two-faced D-bag,” she muttered as she handed Bea the dress. “May it bring you better luck than me.”
“Hmm.” It looked promising, so Bea rose and took it. The size was right, the color looked good for her complexion, so she stepped into the powder room and quickly put it on. The moment she returned, her friends fell silent. She smoothed it against her body, waiting. “Well?”
“Wow,” said Jules, staring at her.
“Nailed it.” Reg congratulated herself with a wide smile, folding her arms across her chest.
“Yeah,” Chloe said, nodding, “that’s the one.”
“You think?” Bea glanced down at herself hopefully. The fabric was luxurious, and the color matched the glass of Merlot teetering on the edge of the coffee table.
“Look how it sets off those gold highlights in your hair,” Julia said in awe.
The dress came to rest just above the knee, showing off her calves. It had just the slightest bit of swish in the skirt.
“That’ll be fun if you go out dancing,” Chloe said.
“And even if you decide not to let him fizzle your sizzle,” Reggie said, making all the girls laugh, “he’s definitely gonna want to.”
Bea cinched the soft satin belt tightly around her waist. A sheer overlay draped her chest and shoulders, leaving just enough to the imagination, the girls agreed.
“Good. Now,” Reggie said. “What are we doing with the hair? Up-do or down?”
“Up-do,” Jules suggested, standing beside her and cocking her head as she gazed at Bea’s reflection in the mirror. “But we don’t want to go too severe. How about a low chignon with lots of wispy little loose trailing tendrils, yes?”
“Oooh, that’ll be pretty,” Chloe agreed while Bea nodded eagerly.
While Julia reached for her hair equipment, Reg planted a chair in front of the mirror. Chloe passed behind them and brought out a tray of brownies from the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Reg said while Bea sat.
“What?” Chloe asked innocently.
“She’s going on a date. She doesn’t need to stuff her face with chocolate beforehand.”
“She can have a bite of brownie first if she wants,” Chloe said. “She’s been through a lot today. The girl needs comfort.”
“Which is why I usually save my chocolate binges for after my dates,” Jules quipped as she set a brush, some hair gel, an elegant hair clip, and a card of bobby pins on the end table.
The other two laughed.
“I’m too nervous to eat, anyway,” Bea mumbled.
“Speak for yourself, sister,” the redhead said cheerfully, and popped a small square of brownie into her mouth, washing it down with a sip of white wine before she got to work primping. “Yummy.”
Regina busied herself choosing the perfect pair of strappy sandals to go with the dress, while Chloe picked out some dangly gold earrings.
After Bea had dabbed on some makeup and carefully put each accessory in place, she looked at herself in the mirror, her friends gathering behind her in the reflection. “Well? Whuddayathink?”
Regina made the hissing sound of oil hitting a frying pan.
“Divine,” Julia declared.
And Chloe let out a startling “Woot-woot!” loud enough to get the neighbor’s dog barking. As the girls joined in her boisterous approval with hoots, catcalls and yee-haws fit for a football stadium, the doorbell suddenly rang.
“Harry’s not picking you up here, is he?” Chloe asked in a sudden panic.
“Dear God, I hope not,” Bea replied, her heart suddenly leaping to her throat. “That was not the plan.”
“I’ll get it.” Reg rushed to the door, and when she opened it, there stood Chief Mike, fully uniformed, his patrol car parked out front with lights flashing.
Without missing a beat, Reg looked over her shoulder and hollered, “Who ordered the stripper?”
Jules shrieked at the joke, Chloe turned bright red, and Bea laughed in relief that it wasn’t Harry, but Mike scowled mildly at Regina as he stepped in.
“You wish,” he said, almost flushing, gentlemanly soul that he was.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” Chloe asked in a tone of affection.
“Hi, Chlo,” he said wistfully, and as Bea glanced over, there was the dopey-over-Chloe smile, right on cue.
In Mike’s case, though, it seemed even dopier than the rest. Although most males lusted over her best friend, Bea had long harbored a suspicion that their dear chief secretly worshiped the ground Chloe walked on.
He hooked his mirrored shades into the pocket of his uniform shirt and winked at her, then glanced sternly at the others. “Got a call into the station for a noise complaint,” he said with a stern look around at them. “You girls gettin’ rowdy without inviting me?”
Reg slumped back down onto the velvet couch. “That was just us celebrating our little Cinderella’s makeover. Shouldn’t you be out catching bad guys?”
“Around here? If only. Dead quiet as usual,” he said, looking bored.
“Quiet’s good, right? Law and order, yay,” Julia said with a grin.
“Want a brownie?” Chloe offered.
Mike glanced yearningly at her offering, but patted his oft-admired six-pack abs. “Better not.” Then he squinted, pointing at Bea. “Who the heck is that?”
“Doesn’t she look fabulous!” Jules exclaimed.
Mike moved toward her, still squinting. “Beatrice Palmer? Is that you? Where’s our dusty farmer girl?”
“Hey!” she retorted.
“Give us your official guy opinion,” Reg ordered. “What do you think?”
“You look beautiful,” he said. “What’s the occasion?”
“Hot date,” Chloe said proudly, slinging an arm around Bea’s shoulders.
“Huh,” Mike replied, a wary glint coming into his gray eyes—the watchful cop once more. “Anyone I know?”
“I don’t think so.” Bea paused. “On second thought, maybe you do. He’s already made friends with all the other guys somehow.”
“Oh. Not the rich dude, is it?” Mike folded his arms across his chest.
Of course, thought Bea, not surprised. “That would be him.”
“Riley. Yeah, I met Harry,” Mike said.
“Did you check him out?” Chloe murmured.
“Yeah,” Reg chimed in, “did you play your usual game of twenty questions with outsiders?”
“Not to that extent,” Mike said with a shrug. “But he seemed okay to me.” He turned to Bea. “I’m on duty all night if you need backup. If your boy gets outta line, just text me your location and he’s toast. You got my number in your phone if you need a ride home, right?”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him, touched. “You’re kind of a prince, you know that?”
“Aw shucks,” Mike said drily.
“His mama raised him right,” Chloe agreed with a warm smile, and that see
med to please him.
The willowy blonde just beamed at him in her usual serene contentment, pleasant and unreadable as ever.
Suddenly, Julia let out a gasp. “Oh my gosh, Bea!” She pointed at the grandfather clock in the hall. “It’s three minutes past seven.”
Another somersault in Bea’s belly. “Ack, I’m late. My purse!”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Reg jumped up from the couch. “You are not taking that—that hideous satchel.” She shuddered at the sight of Bea’s cracked leather sack as she hurried to get her a suitable handbag for the evening.
Bea grimaced while she waited, the clock ticking. “Well, find me something else, fast!”
She knew her purse was kind of a disgrace—she’d carried it for years, and although a chaotic heap of sundries mounded inside, she knew exactly where to find her pen, her wallet, phone, keys, sunscreen, her emergency tampons, and her little blue notebook, among other necessities.
“This works.” Jules sped over with Reggie’s hasty selection, a sleek black wristlet, satin, with some beads.
“My wallet won’t fit.” Bea fumbled to pull out a credit card, some cash, her ID, and transfer them into the tiny thing.
Mike just stood there, arms akimbo in cop pose, shaking his head at this last-minute scramble for accessories.
“I’ll bring your purse and your truck over for you tomorrow,” Chloe told her as they all lined up on the front porch, waving goodbye as Bea tapped carefully down the steps toward the sidewalk.
“Who knows? She might be spending the night at the Sweetwater Inn,” Reggie added seductively.
“On the first date? Not our Honey-Bea,” Mike said indignantly.
“Adorable,” Reg drawled, looking askance at him. “You do know it’s not 1955, right?”
“Hey, I’m old-fashioned.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Chloe said, then waved at Bea. “Deets tomorrow, you!”
“Absolutely. Thanks, guys! You are the best fairy godmothers ever.” Bea blew them a kiss and clattered off down the uneven sidewalk. It had been a long time since she’d had a reason to wear high heels, but thankfully, she only had to hurry around the block.