by Lee McKenzie
Compared to her parents’, Rory’s life was remarkably conventional. She’d gone to college and landed her first teaching job right after graduation. At the same time, she was the least conventional of all her friends. Unlike them, she had no desire to get married and raise a family. She had meant what she said to Miranda—she loved her students, and they were all the family she needed.
She dodged a young mother pushing a baby stroller and narrowly avoided a head-on collision with an elderly woman who had stopped to admire the gurgling infant.
Come on, people. It’s a baby. You’ve seen a million of them. And this one had a viscous-looking glob of drool bubbling down its chin. Ugh.
I’ll take seven-year-olds any day. She loved teaching second grade. Kids that age were bursting with curiosity and enthusiasm, and they made going to work every day a joy. After ten years, teaching second grade still didn’t feel like a job.
Seven-year-olds could follow simple instructions without questioning every step along the way. They could tie their own shoes. They could articulate ideas, at least in a basic way, and they threw themselves wholeheartedly into every opportunity presented to them. And they didn’t drool.
She especially loved watching them while they wrote in their journals. Younger children hadn’t yet developed the skills to put thoughts on paper, while older kids would sit and stare at a blank page, hypercritical of every idea even before it was fully formed. Second graders put pencil to paper without hesitation. They were quick-witted, yet naive enough to take things at face value. And they weren’t afraid to use words they couldn’t spell.
Seven was the perfect age. At school, Miranda was exceptionally energetic and imaginative—exactly the kind of child Rory loved having in her classroom. At home with her family, she seemed quieter and more serious. More like a miniature adult than a normal kid. Not surprising, given what she and her dad had been through, but Rory still hated to see a child grow up too quickly.
Even adults needed to relax and have some fun once in a while, and Rory liked to think she was still good at letting her inner child come out to play. Rory’s father often joked that the nut didn’t fall far from the tree, the tree in this case being Rory’s mother. Copper Pennington’s lively high-spiritedness sharply contrasted and often conflicted with Sam Borland’s more serious bookishness. There was really no denying it…Rory was very much like her mother.
But that didn’t mean she wanted to be a mother. In spite of having a wonderful relationship with both her parents, she was never one-hundred-percent convinced they’d wanted to be parents, either. If it hadn’t been for that one night in the backseat of the Buick…
Rory sidestepped a half-dozen giggling teenaged girls who seemed to think they had the sidewalk, maybe even the world, all to themselves. Am I the only person in downtown San Francisco who’s in a hurry? Even though a dress fitting wasn’t high on her list of priorities today, she loved to spend time with her friends. Still, it would have been good to hang around the house and finish unpacking. Maybe catch a glimpse of Mitch.
You’re not going there. Too much baggage, remember?
Baggage aside, a girl could still look. And admire the view.
She pushed through the door of the bridal salon, thinking that with everything else she had going on, she was lucky that being a maid of honor had turned out to be such an easy job.
Nicola and the others were seated at the back of the shop in a half circle of chairs facing a round dais and several full-length mirrors. The bride-to-be jumped up, brandishing her BlackBerry.
“There you are! I was just about to call you. I was starting to worry.” But she didn’t look worried. More like a force to be reckoned with. Her short, sleek, dark hair was perfect, as always, and her tan-colored linen pants, white silk shirt, slender gold bangles and metallic ballet flats were as understated as they were expensive.
“Sorry I’m late. Since we’re going out for drinks I left my van at home and took the bus.”
The bride-to-be gave her a quick hug. “You should have called. I would have sent Jonathan to pick you up.”
“I completely lost track of time. I would have called after I was on the bus but I left my cell phone at home.” She waggled her fingers at Paige and Maria. “Hi, girls.”
“Did you get moved into your new place?” Paige asked, squinting as she cleaned her glasses with the hem of her bulky gray sweater.
“I did, and it’s perfect. My new landlady and her…her family helped me haul everything upstairs. They even helped me unpack, which is why I got sidetracked.”
“You look gorgeous, as always. I love those colors on you.” Maria, the truly gorgeous one with the Mediterranean complexion and captivatingly brown eyes, patted her protruding belly. “I’d get up and give you a hug, but it’s too much work.”
“How are you feeling?” Rory asked.
“Great. Except for all the kicking going on in here.”
Rory stared at her friend’s abdomen and tried to imagine how it would feel to have another human being living inside her. Her imagination failed her.
A young woman stepped out from behind a rack of dresses. She was small-boned and lively, with a mass of shiny dark curls held off her face by a wide, red headband. “You must be the maid of honor,” she said to Rory.
“She is,” Nic said. “This is Rhoda, my seamstress.”
“Have a seat with the other gals. Their dresses have already been fitted. I’ll bring out yours in a few minutes.”
Rory dropped her bag on the floor and settled into a chair. When she stretched her legs and crossed her ankles, Nicola eyed her painted canvas sneakers. “Please tell me you remembered to bring shoes.”
She reached down and patted her bag. “I brought a pair that might go with the dress, but once I’ve seen it I might look for something else.”
“I knew I could count on you. Wish I could say the same for Jess.”
“Jess doesn’t own any dressy shoes. You know that,” Paige said.
“Where is she?” Rory asked.
Nic nodded toward a curtained cubicle. “Jess? What’s taking so long?”
A slit appeared in the curtain and Jess’s head popped out, all flashing green eyes and fiery red hair. “Should I take off my bra or leave it on?”
Nicola exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it on. The dress won’t fit properly without it.”
“So it’s okay that the straps are showing?”
The others laughed. Nic did not. “Can you slip the straps off your arms and tuck them inside the dress?”
“If I do that, I might as well take it off.”
That brought on the bride’s characteristic eye roll. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Leave it on and let us see the dress.”
The curtain parted and Jess stepped out. The hem of the blue dress dragged on the floor, a pair of dingy white bra straps emerged above the top, and her arms were tightly crossed under her breasts. “I need help with the zipper.”
The seamstress quickly came forward and zipped the dress. “Stand up here and let’s have a look at you.”
Jess climbed onto the dais, revealing a pair of battered black-and-white high-topped sneakers. She still hadn’t unfolded her arms.
Rory grinned at Nicola. “I see what you mean about the shoes.”
“That’s our girl. A total disaster and still so darned lovable. I’m counting on you to help her find a pair of shoes and some decent lingerie.”
“Why me?” Shopping with Jess was as much fun as a trip to the dentist. Or the gynecologist. Or both. On the same day.
Nic’s eyes sparkled. “You’re my maid of honor. It’s part of your job.”
A job that suddenly didn’t seem so easy after all. “You’re evil.”
“Hello?” Jess said. “I’m standing right here. It’s not like I can’t hear you.”
Nic ignored her. “She and Maria would end up arguing, and she’d run roughshod over Paige. You’re good at getting people to do things. It’s what makes you
such a great teacher.”
All true, Rory thought, even as she acknowledged Nicola’s blatant use of flattery to get what she wanted. But shopping with Jess? The girl’s wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts, the men’s dress shirts she wore with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and lingerie that may very well have been purchased in the previous millennium.
Still, Nicola’s affectionate comment about Jess being lovable was so true. She was fiercely independent and generous to a fault. She’d struggled her whole life to make ends meet, and yet she’d give you one of those godawful shirts right off her back. She could also be painfully honest, and this was one of those times.
“No offense, but you could have picked dresses that had sleeves and weren’t so poofy.”
Instead of being offended, Nicola laughed. “None taken, and I’ve already told you, we need a dress that can be altered to fit Maria, and this one is perfect for her.”
Once again Maria ran her hands over her enormous belly. “Don’t blame me,” she said. “This is all the fault of my darling husband. Tony weighed just over ten pounds when he was born, and he was the smallest of his three brothers.”
“You have a ten-pound baby in there?” Jess asked.
“Note to self. Check birth weight of prospective husbands.” Paige gazed longingly at Maria’s baby bump. “So you know it’s a boy?”
“No, we don’t want to know ahead of time. As long as it’s healthy, we don’t care if it’s a boy or girl.” Maria gave them a sly smile. “But I’m secretly hoping it’s a girl. And Tony not-so-secretly would like a boy.”
Paige had desperately wanted to start a family since the day she got married—even before that, actually. Her husband had insisted they wait, and it was a good thing they had because he’d moved out a couple of months ago.
“I’m sure you and Dan will work everything out,” Maria said.
Paige shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Poor Paige. Rory could tell she was trying to be stoic, but anyone could see she was hurting. “Have you talked to him lately?”
“He called last week to tell me he wants a divorce. He thought he should let me know so I could talk to a lawyer.”
The jerk, Rory thought, but she kept it to herself.
Jess was less subtle. She made a fist and punched her other palm with it. “You want me to have a talk with him?” Her dress shifted a little and she quickly crossed her arms again.
“You should talk to Nicola,” Maria said.
“She already has,” Nic assured them. “I’ve set her up with an excellent lawyer in our firm. Suffice to say, Danny Boy won’t know what hit him.”
Jess was undeterred. “I’ll still be glad to have a little chat with him.”
Paige laughed. “Thanks…I think…but there’s no need. Everything is under control.” For a woman who’d wanted to get married and start a family more than anything else in the world, Paige seemed awfully matter-of-fact about the end of a marriage that had lasted less than two years.
Rhoda politely but firmly cut into their conversation. “Ladies, I can’t fit this dress unless this one holds still. Now, arms down at your sides please.”
Jess slowly lowered her arms. She looked as though she expected the dress to slither down her slender body, but it stayed where it was.
“I’d like Jess to stay in her dress so I can see her and Rory together. I’d like to figure out how we should do your hair.”
“Good idea.” Rhoda brought out Rory’s dress and hung it in the fitting room.
Rory carried her tote bag into the cubicle, quickly undressed and shimmied into the dress. She sat on a softly padded chair, blue taffeta rustling around her as she buckled the narrow straps of her shoes.
“Will you be wearing heels?” Rhoda was asking Jess as Rory stepped out of the dressing room.
Nicola shot Jess a pointed look. “Yes, she will.”
The seamstress knelt on the edge of the dais and measured the excess hem. “Very good. If you wear at least a three-inch heel, we won’t have to shorten the dress.”
Jess’s eyebrows reacted, but before she could object, Rhoda stood and shifted her attention to the top of the dress. “Now this is a different matter. You’ll need a strapless bra, and maybe some gel inserts would help—”
“Excuse me?” Jess looked as though she’d like to strangle the woman with her own measuring tape.
Rory drew her lips between her teeth and pressed them together to stop the grin. Jess didn’t need any encouragement.
Paige gazed across the store as though something had just caught her attention.
Maria looked down at her belly.
Nicola was staring straight at Jess’s bustline. Or lack thereof. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“They’ll give the dress some shape. I’ll show you.” Rhoda disappeared into an office and emerged half a minute later with two pale pink imitation breasts, one in each hand. “They’re comfortable and natural-looking—”
“And they are not getting stuffed in here,” Jess said, using her two index fingers to indicate where the fake breasts weren’t going.
Maria’s dark eyes sparkled. “A little extra boobage can’t hurt.”
Jess glared at her.
Rory finally gave in and laughed out loud. The seamstress looked disappointed, but she handed the inserts to Nicola and slid her measuring tape off her neck. “All right, then. Arms up and out to the side so I can take this measurement.”
Jess complied, then craned her neck in an attempt to see what the woman was writing on her clipboard.
Rory’s 34B seemed to do the job quite nicely. She didn’t know what Jess’s bra size was, and until now she hadn’t known her friend was so sensitive about it. Jess had always been the tomboy of the group, and the oversize men’s dress shirts she usually wore did an admirable job of hiding her modest assets.
“This blue is perfect for you blondes and redheads,” the seamstress said. Rory wasn’t sure anyone else would agree. What Nic had described as periwinkle had turned out to be a startlingly bright electric blue, and the shiny taffeta fabric seemed to grab every particle of light in the room and reflect it back at ten times its original amplitude. If light rays had amplitude, she thought absently. Whatever they had, these were the bluest dresses she had ever seen.
And Jess had been right about the poofiness, an effect created by big tucks and gathers that Rhoda referred to as ruching. Rory didn’t know what Nicola saw when she looked at these dresses—maybe in her soon-to-be-wedded bliss she was seeing them through rose-colored glasses—but Rory knew someone who would fall completely in love with hers.
Miranda. After this wedding, they would have three dress-up options.
While the seamstress took measurements and marked the dress where alterations were needed, Rory’s mind drifted back over the things Betsy had said. Mitch’s marriage had been very traditional, and his wife had been a full-time mom. Had she played dress-up with their daughter?
“Rory?” Nicola asked.
“Hm?”
“I was agreeing that this is a great color for the two of you.”
“Sorry. I must’ve been daydreaming.”
“Now that I see the two of you in your dresses, I think you should both wear your hair down. Do you mind?” she asked, reaching for Jess’s ponytail.
Jess made a face but otherwise didn’t object. She never wore her hair down, but since this would be Nic’s day, she could call the shots. “We can pull your hair back off your face, like this,” she said, demonstrating what she had in mind, “and have a cascade of curls down your back. Maria? Paige? What do you think?”
“They’re tall and thin and gorgeous,” Maria said. “Like a pair of supermodels.”
Paige took off her glasses and wiped them with the bottom edge of her sweater. “I think I should have tried to lose weight before the wedding.”
“Nonsense,” Maria said. “You’re gorgeous, too. All soft curves and voluptuous. Lots of men lo
ve that. I will admit, though, that when I was a teenager, I would have given just about anything to look like these two. Now all I want is a waistline.”
“I’ve never seen a more radiant mother-to-be,” Paige said. “In a few months you’ll have a waistline and a beautiful baby. If it’s a girl, she’ll be a raven-haired beauty like her mom.”
“Your time will come,” Maria assured her.
Paige pouted. “Not at the rate I’m going.”
“After the baby’s born, I’ll let you babysit. You can invite Dan over to talk, he’ll take one look at you with a baby in your arms, and he’ll change his mind.”
Seriously? Rory thought looking after a baby might be the best birth control ever invented.
The seamstress knelt to check the length of Rory’s dress. “Are these the shoes you’ll be wearing?” she asked.
“These or something similar.” Since she had to take Jess shoe-shopping, she might as well look for a new pair, too.
Nicola lifted the edge of the voluminous skirt and studied Rory’s silver high-heeled sandals. “They’re perfect. I hope Jess can find a pair like these.”
“I can’t walk in heels like that!”
“Jess, you’re one of my best friends and you know I love you, but you’re not wearing sneakers to my wedding.”
“What if I buy new ones?” Jess asked. “Blue ones?”
Nicola laughed at the joke, but Rory suspected Jess was only half kidding. “Rory has already agreed to take you shoe-shopping. Unless you’d rather go with me.”
Jess’s eyes widened in mock horror. “No!” Grinning, she hitched up the hem of her dress, uncovered one sneaker, and planted her foot next to Rory’s. “Our tastes are so similar.”
Typical Jess. She loved having the last word as much as Nic liked having her own way. In spite of their different interests and upbringings, the five of them had become friends when they were dorm mates in their first year at college. Nic and Maria were from affluent San Franciscan families, and they were carrying on the tradition by “marrying well.” Paige’s military family had moved all over the country and now she was determined to put down roots and raise a family. Jess had been raised by her mom and her grandfather. She’d never met her father and by all reports, that was not a bad thing. Rory’s parents’ on-again-off-again marriage hadn’t provided the most stable environment, either, but she’d had it a lot easier than Jess.