Fit to Be Tied

by Debby Mayne

  “I have a club meeting.” Her voice sounds breathy, like she’s in a hurry. “We’re working on the holiday charity event.”

  “Oh.” I sink back in my seat as disappointment floods me. Am I the only person in Pinewood who doesn’t have a life?

  “Did you need to talk about something in particular? I should be home around 2:00 or so.”

  “No, I just thought it would be fun to have lunch together.”

  “Oh, honey, I wish I could join you. Where’s Sara?”

  “She and Justin went to New Orleans for a few days.” I try to sound normal, but even I can hear the disappointment in my voice.

  “So you’re lonely.” Mama pauses. “I’m sorry, Sally, but I always knew one of you would eventually have to deal with this. Maybe you can take advantage of your time alone to work on a plan.”

  “A plan?” I sigh. “For what?”

  “Your life. You can’t spend all your time waiting for your sister to come home. I know you’re not a social butterfly, but maybe you should consider joining some club.”

  “I won’t know anyone.” Sara and I hung around together most of the time, and the few friends we have either moved away or got married.

  “That’s the whole point, Sally. You’ll meet some new friends who have similar interests.”

  The problem is, I don’t have any interests outside of what I’m already doing, and even that’s a stretch. But I can’t tell Mama that, or she’ll try to come up with something for me. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I would invite you to come to my club meeting, but I’m afraid you’d be bored to tears. After we finish the planning for the charity, most of our talk is about our grown kids and grandkids. I’m not thrilled about Sara’s timing, but at least I have a baby to look forward to.”

  It’s clear that she’s giving me a not-so-subtle hint, and it’s not something I want to hear. “Okay, have fun at your club meeting. Maybe I’ll just go downtown and walk around or something.”

  “Great idea. Maybe you can stop off and see Shay and Puddin’. They’ve been bringing in a lot of new lines since they bought the place, so you might find something cute to wear. That always perks me up.”

  After we hang up, I fill a few more orders before I stand and stretch. It’s almost noon, but I’m not hungry, so I decide to take Mama’s advice and head downtown to do a little window-shopping. The irony of the situation is that between Sara and me, she’s always been more of a shopper. I normally don’t see the point unless there’s something I need.

  It’s a nice, cool fall day, so I slip a faux leather jacket over my T-shirt and change from my sneakers to a pair of ballet flats before heading out to my car. All the way into town, I force myself to look at the scenery—something Sara says I don’t do enough. She thinks I’m too driven in business and I don’t pay enough attention to the other things that make life worth living.

  As I pass the library, I notice that most of the leaves have fallen, leaving the trees bare for winter. I don’t remember them changing colors, which lets me know that Sara is right. I need to enjoy what Mama always calls God’s amazing decorations.

  There are never enough parking spots on Main Street, so I pull into the first one I see that’s a little more than a block away from La Chic Boutique. It feels weird to be doing this alone, since Sara has always been with me in the past, except those times when I went shopping for a gift for her. But I force myself to get out of the car and start walking. It’s becoming painfully evident that I’m not as independent as I thought I was, and it’s time to make some major changes.

  Ever since I started wearing my new outfits, folks have been looking at me different. In some ways, it’s kind of nice to not be ignored. But there are times when I wish I could go back to my wallflower self . . . but not enough to actually wear the frumpy rags. The oversize cargo pants and men’s tees I used to wear aren’t attractive on anyone—especially a woman my age. I know I look good now, so I lift my chin with the newfound confidence these clothes have given me.

  I’ve been called smart all my life, so I’m comfortable when it comes to schoolwork. Hopefully, I’ll develop a little more social confidence now that I’m not so embarrassed by how I look.

  I’ve barely gotten out of my car when I hear Kyle calling my name. I turn and see him jogging toward me. “Hey, Kyle.”

  “Hey, Coralee, wanna go get a burger after sociology?” He smiles and waits for my answer—something no guy has ever done before.

  “I don’t know.” After the looks I got from the other pair of tight pants, I went back to La Chic and bought them in every color.

  “Or we can just walk around campus and maybe stop at the student union for some Starbucks.”

  The eagerness in his voice gives me a tummy thrill, but I’m not so sure it’s because he’s the one talking or the fact that someone actually seems to care about being with me. “Coffee will be good.”

  As we walk toward the building where our class is, I can see guys looking at me in a whole ’nother way—something that would have made me uncomfortable in the past but that actually feels good now that I’ve gotten sort of used to it. And I can tell that Kyle is fully aware of it too as he reaches for my hand and holds it tight.

  This isn’t the first time we’ve had physical contact, but the other two times were when we were alone. So I know he’s trying to lay claim to me, which isn’t a bad thing, since I really like him.

  Once we reach the classroom, there are only a couple of spots available—on opposite sides of the room. The sociology professor doesn’t believe in assigned seats.

  Kyle whispers, “Want me to see if someone will move?”

  “No, that’s okay. I need to take notes anyway.”

  He gives me a reluctant nod before walking across the room and claiming the seat by the wall. I take the one closer to the door.

  Almost the instant I sit down, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and find myself face-to-face with one of the football players—the guy who struts around while girls wish he’d look at them.

  “Hey, are you and that guy just friends, or are you in a relationship?” He pauses and gives me one of those too-charming-to-trust smiles. “I’d like to hang out with you.”

  I laugh. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Even though I’m getting attention that I never got in the past, I’m still the same inside. I reckon it’ll take a while before the confidence kicks in.

  He shrugs. “There’s no reason to.”

  “Well . . .” I glance over at Kyle and see the panic-stricken look on his face, and my heart melts. “I am sort of in a relationship with him.” That is somewhat the truth, I think.

  “If things don’t work out between you two, let me know.” He settles back in his seat and lowers his eyelids to half-mast. I suspect he’ll probably snooze once the professor starts talking, but as long as he doesn’t snore, I don’t care.

  I start to turn back around, and as I do, I glance over at Kyle, who continues to stare. I give him my flirtiest smile and wiggle my fingers in a wave. His lips twitch into an uncertain smile back.

  The lecture is more interesting than usual. I take notes as fast as I can, but I’m not too worried because Kyle somehow manages to remember most of what the professor says. At least that’s what he tells me. He says the reason he struggles with his grades is that he’s never been a good test taker.

  I don’t know how he does it, but within a second of the class’s ending, Kyle is standing beside my desk. “Ready to go get coffee?” His gaze darts to the football player behind me, and then he looks at me as he reaches for my hand.

  As we stroll out of the classroom hand in hand, I wonder how things would have worked out with the guy sitting behind me. It would have been fun to see what the big deal is about him, but there’s no doubt in my mind it wouldn’t last once he got bored.

  “You know what I like about you, Coralee?”

  I turn to Kyle. “What’s that?”

/>   “You’re not only beautiful, you’re smart and nice. That’s an unusual combination.”

  I tilt my head back and let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I’m weird.”

  “I didn’t say that.” His brows slam together in a look of consternation. “What I meant was—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding . . . Well, sort of kidding.” I ponder my thoughts for a few seconds. “Actually, I am weird, but that’s intentional.”

  “You are?” He gives me a curious look with his nose wrinkling and his eyes all squinty. “It is? What are you talking about?”

  I figure I might as well tell him now because if we continue to . . . whatever it is we’re doing, he’ll find out. “I’ve always been sort of dorky and not attractive at all.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m serious as can be.” I stop, and since we’re still holding hands, he nearly stumbles. “I mean, look at when we got together. You never paid a single solitary bit of attention to me before.”

  He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “That’s not true. I noticed you before, but you used to seem so closed off—sort of like you didn’t want to be bothered.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, and I don’t like to get shot down, so I never said anything.”

  This puts a whole different light on things. “What made you think things would be different?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just a gut feeling. That day when you came walking in looking like this, you were smiling.” He pauses. “And you looked happy and approachable. And then you looked directly at me, and I felt like I’d been struck by a ray of sunshine.”

  “You did?”

  “Absolutely.” He reaches out and taps my nose in a playful manner. “And that’s exactly what you’ve been for me.”

  “Oh wow. I had no idea.”

  “Now it’s my turn.” His smile fades. “After I got out of the Air Force, I was offered a couple of jobs that were tempting.”

  “You were in the Air Force?” This just goes to show how little I know about him, and that makes me feel guilty for only thinking about myself.

  “Yep. Four years.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Four very long years.”

  “I take it you didn’t like the military.”

  “Oh, I liked it just fine, when I was in the States. I spent most of my time in Afghanistan.”

  This puts a whole new light on Kyle. “So why did you decide to go to college instead of taking one of those jobs?”

  “The jobs weren’t something I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and I figured that I might as well go back to school while I’m still young.”

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “I’ll be twenty-five on my next birthday.” He lifts his chin. “So that makes me about a year and a half older than you.”

  Now I’m embarrassed that I’ve talked so much about myself and not asked him about his life until now. “What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

  “Well, first I need to finish up here, but . . .” He makes a face. “At the risk of sounding geeky, I’d like to be an electronics engineer.”

  “Geeky is good.” We walk a few steps toward the library before I continue. “Then what?”

  “I’d like to find a job. A boring job with a stable company, settle down with a wife I’m madly in love with, and have two-point-three kids.”

  “Do you go to church?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I see his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows hard.

  “How about you?”

  “Yes, in fact, that’s probably the most important thing in my life.”

  He grins at me. “Mine too.”

  Maybe there’s hope for us after all.

  I still can’t believe I spent so much money at La Chic yesterday. The second I walked in the door, Puddin’ pounced on me and told me she’d start me a room. Sometime while I was trying on my first outfit, Shay appeared with another batch of things she said were perfect for me.

  So here I am with a whole pile of this season’s fall fashion—three pairs of leggings, a half dozen tunics, a couple of dresses, and accessories to go with all of it—piled on my bed. When I first got home from downtown, I hung everything up, but now I’m thinking I might want to take some of it back. Now I’m trying it all on and looking at myself in the full-length mirror that Sara insisted I hang on my door.

  The first outfit that Puddin’ said was so me is a pair of navy leggings and a V-neck burgundy-print tunic. I never would have put those pieces together, but Puddin’ was right. It looks amazing. Okay, I’ll keep that one. Next, I try on the other tunic that goes with the navy leggings, and it looks just as good. Another keeper.

  After I finish looking at all of it a second time, I’m amazed that I like it even more than when I was in the store. Puddin’ clearly has a knack for fashion. Who’d’ve thought?

  Shay isn’t so bad either. In fact, I’m starting to see her as the accessories queen. She found scarves, necklaces, and earrings to go with every one of the outfits I bought, and I like all of them. Looks like I won’t be bringing any of it back.

  I can’t help laughing at myself. Neither Sara nor I ever worried too much about what we wore, and between the two of us, I have always been less interested. She’ll get a kick out of my purchasing all this stuff.

  After getting past the fact that I’m feeling left out, I’m worried about Sara not feeling well during their trip. But I’m sure that having a new baby on the way has created a sense of urgency, since it’ll be much more difficult once he or she arrives.

  Since Sara called and said she and Justin aren’t planning to come back home for another day or two, depending on whether or not they can get tickets to some concert Justin wants to go to, I know I have to find more ways to occupy my time. I’ve managed to fill most of the orders that don’t require orange ribbon, so I have to do something, and I don’t want to sit in front of the TV for hours on end. It’s too depressing, and I’m already fit to be tied. I thought I’d gotten used to Sara being married, but obviously not. How could she have done this to me?

  Now that I have time to think about it, I know it’s selfish of me, but we’ve always talked through things before making a big decision. When the biggest decision of all came up, she pushed me aside and put this boy . . . this man ahead of me. I wonder what she would have done if I’d gone off and gotten married to some guy she barely knew.

  Sure, I think Justin is okay, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he adores her. It’s just that he’s the wedge that keeps Sara and me from being as close as we were before he popped into her life. Our lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever get past that.

  There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it now, nor would I want to. Truth be told, I’ve never seen Sara as happy as she is now. Sure, she still has her moody moments, but overall, she seems more confident. More adult. Now that I think about it, she’s becoming more of the woman I’d like to be.

  Mama’s words about joining something and getting involved with people who have similar interests flit through my head. Maybe she’s right. But where do I start? The problem is that I don’t have a lot of interests, and the only thing I’m good at is making hair bows. That’s totally not something I want to do in my spare time.

  I open my laptop and do a search on special-interest clubs. Political? No, that’s not for me. Coin collecting? I don’t see the point. Money’s for spending. Cooking? I laugh as I think about how lacking I am in the culinary department. Until we got together with Shay, neither of us knew our way around the kitchen, and we did a lot of carryout. But cooking does interest me now. I peruse the different cooking clubs that have websites, and I see that several of them offer classes. Unfortunately, none of them are in my area.

  Maybe the kitchen store downtown offers classes. Mavis Gentry inherited the Chef’s Skillet when her parents passed away.

  With a new
pep in my step, I put my jeans back on and get ready to go downtown again, only this time I’m on a mission. I’m going to find something that I can do without my sister.

  Mavis greets me the second I walk into her store. “Hey there, Sara.” She narrows her eyes. “Or are you Sally?”

  “Sally.” I smile.

  “What can I help you with?”

  I glance around before settling my gaze on hers. “I want to take some cooking classes. Do you offer anything here?”

  She shakes her head. “Mama and her sister used to, but unfortunately, her culinary skills didn’t get passed down to me. I’m afraid I’m lost when it comes to cooking.”

  “Maybe you can bring someone in to do them for you.”

  “Do you volunteer?” A hopeful expression lets me know she’s open to ideas.

  “No one would want to cook the three things I know how to make if I did it, but I might know someone.” Shay is an excellent cook, but I stop before I say her name or volunteer her for anything.

  “That would be awesome. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to pick up business, and that just might be the trick. Back when Mama was still living, she said she sold more during and after her classes than she did the whole rest of the week.”

  On an even more exciting mission, I back toward the door. “Let me get to work on this. I know a couple of people who might be interested.”

  I can think of a few people who might enjoy teaching classes, like Shay, who’s a great cook, and also Mama, who claims she’s the best casserole maker in all of Pinewood. And then there’s Missy with her chili and some of my aunts and cousins who can make all sorts of things, from savory main dishes to irresistible desserts. I have a whole family of people who might be able to teach at Mavis’s shop.

  Now I head toward La Chic, praying that Shay is in. As soon as I open the door, I see her and Puddin’ standing over the counter, looking at the contents of the display case.

  “Hey, girl.” Puddin’ looks me over. “Why aren’t you wearin’ one of your new outfits?”