Speak Now (28 page)

After the third store, Cara called him back. “Send me five pictures of dresses you would expect to see at this thing. Mom and I have opposing ideas of what we’re looking for, and I am tired of trying on the equivalent of wedding gowns in bright colors.”

“I thought bridal shopping was every woman’s favorite pastime.”

“That depends on if you are getting married or not and if things actually fit you.”

“You don’t make sense, Cara.” Jonathan’s voice strained at his attempt to hide his frustration. “What do you mean things don’t fit?”

“I told you. I’m short. I’m short waisted
—”

“What does that mean again? I recognize the term, but…” Jonathan apologized. “Just don’t remember.”

“Okay, find your bottom rib… the last one. Feel it? Now, find your hip. How many inches between them?”

“A full span from my little finger to my index fully extended.”

“On me that’s like six inches, but I bet it’s around nine or so for you. I thought you were longer waisted. I have an inch and a half. If I’m standing up very straight.”

The airspace lay silent for a few seconds. “How do most women average?”

“Around four is average, I think.”

Again, a hint of silence. “And that means?”

“It means that there are an extra two and a half or three inches in length… at least, in every dress I try on. They bunch at the waist, or they’re really tight across the hip because where the waist
should
be hitting, my hips are mocking me.”

“Now that makes sense. Maybe you should just shop in petite?”

Exasperated, Cara tried explaining once more. “Petite is for shorter people who are proportioned normally. I am short everywhere but my legs. I have ridiculously long legs for the rest of my body.”

“I li—”

Cara sighed. “Don’t even go there. Just get me the stupid pictures.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up the phone, lifted another dozen yards of fabric from the floor, and walked out to show her mother how ridiculous she looked—again.

“Mom, this is all wrong. I need something more like an evening gown. This is too poofy.”

“It’s a ball gown! The clerk—”

“Fashion assistant, Mom,” Cara corrected quickly before the woman’s insulted expression transformed into uncooperativeness.

“Right. Anyway, she said that people were shopping for
these
gowns, for the ball. Surely she should know!” Diane tried to keep her voice low but frustration sent it into a stage whisper that the entire store could hear.

“I look like a fairy godmother!”

“You look like a princess.”

“If it was white, I’d need a veil!” Cara’s voice rose ever so slightly.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Cara.” Diane poked at the waist, trying to adjust it to see how it would look designed for a different body type. “You’ll want a different waist for that. Something to give the illusion of a torso.”

“I think I’ll just go with Regency and look pregnant,” Cara muttered as she swished back into the dressing room where an attendant appeared at just the right moment to unzip her and then disappeared for privacy.
Lord, I love these attendants. Can we make an agreement that someday I’ll be able to afford shopping—nah. It won’t work. I just won’t fit into what I like.

Several pictures flew through the phone in rapid succession. The first three looked like the kinds of gowns Cara had been searching for, the fourth was almost an exact match for the dress she’d just tried on, the fifth was a formal floor length skirt and beaded wrap top affair, and the last was a picture of Jonathan and his children smiling into the camera. A quick text message read, ARE WE WORTH IT?

YOU’D BETTER BE, was the only retort she could manufacture with a brain fried from too much taffeta and silk dupioni.

“Look, Mom,” Cara thrust the phone at her mother as she wandered to another section of the store. “Four out of the five dresses Jonathan sent are all what I’ve been describing. I’m not going for Scarlett O’Hara’s drapes when I can have something like this!”

As she spoke, her voice lilted with interest. A gown hanging on a mannequin arrested her interest and held her captive. An asymmetrical bodice gave the illusion of extra torso length—exactly what Cara needed. The fabric Diane had purchased would be perfect for the style, and the one-shouldered strap would ensure she wouldn’t feel like her dress was slipping off all evening. “This is it.”

“I’m not sure that’ll fit your body type…” The fashion assistant sounded dubious.

“I’ll try it on. Perhaps it can be altered. Come on, Mom!”

Cara hadn’t
felt so excited since she’d heard about the ball. They stood in the fitting room snapping pictures, playing with the drape, and finally stepped out to ask the assistant if she thought raising the strap would destroy the look of the gown. Immediately, the woman nodded. “You’d have the under-bust line cutting you across the middle of it.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Cara admitted, forcing herself to keep a rueful tone in her voice. “I’ll have to have something similar made. I have to have this dress.”

When Cara reappeared from the dressing rooms, she marched directly to the display of handbags, picked up a leather straw-colored purse with half rings and pockets, glanced at the price to ensure she’d stay out of debt for it, and handed it to the fashion assistant. “Thanks for all of your help. With a body like mine, I know better than to hope I can find something ‘on the rack,’ but one of these days, I’m going to. Meanwhile, I’d like this.”

The assistant’s brief dismissive attitude
vanished and an air of helpfulness replaced it. A three hundred dollar purse was a far cry from a thousand dollar dress, but at least the woman’s time hadn’t been fully wasted. “I love this bag. I have a sneaking suspicion my paycheck is going to be significantly reduced this month. I keep starting to set it aside for myself, and then I convince myself not to. I just don’t know how long I’ll manage.”

Cara glanced around to make sure no one
would overhear. “I saw one almost exactly like it at the leather store in the mall. It was half the price and came in several colors. I’d planned to go back for it, but I like this color best.”

“Red? I’ve been dying—”

Cara’s grin was huge. “They had red, black, white—”

“Oh, wouldn’t it be gorgeous in white!”

Minutes later, Cara hurried back into the store with an envelope in her hand. She passed it to the fashion assistant and left before the woman opened it. Inside she’d placed a newspaper clipping—a coupon for twenty-five percent off of any one item at Leather-Tunity.

~*~*~*~

“So, my mom is working on the dress as we speak.”

“How do you know?”

Cara listened to Riley’s excited voice and forced herself not to picture them talking about Riley’s formals in years to come. “Because my daddy called me a few minutes ago and told me to tell your daddy that he owes my daddy a very good dinner. I think my daddy got frozen pizza. Again.”

Girlish giggles warmed Cara’s heart as she listened to Riley relay the message to her father. “Daddy says that he’ll have something sent over tomorrow night, so don’t let your mom cook.”

“Tell Daddy to wait until Monday night. Mom probably already has a roast in the crock-pot. Your daddy is a very thoughtful man; isn’t he?”

“I’ll do that and thank you.”

“Jonathan! You interrupted a private conversation!” As much as she tried to make her tone sound indignant, Cara couldn’t hide her delight. Talking to Jonathan had become the highlight of her evening.

“Riley was finished. She has a very short attention span for phone calls. It’s one reason the Rockland family is so possessive of her when she comes. In person, as you well know, she’s highly talkative and entertaining.”

“Just like her father.” As his deep chuckle washed over her, Cara sighed. “Oh, I miss your laugh.”

“I was thinking…”

“Hmm?” Cara sorted clothes as she listened.

“The first weekend in August, Gramby is going to be here—in her apartment. Her kids are all going on a cruise, thinking it might make her give the water a chance but, of course, she won’t touch it. I asked if she’d be willing to do some extra childcare that weekend if you’d come. She said yes.”

“You want me to come to Atlanta?”

“I’ve got miles upon air miles to spend, Cara. You say yes and I’ll have you reserved by morning.”

“Atlanta, huh?”

“We could go to a Braves game…”

“Would you buy me peanuts and Cracker Jacks?”

“Don’t tempt me. Will you come?”
She could not mistake the earnestness in his tone.

“Of course. You knew I would.”

“I hoped.”

She laughed as she filled the washing machine with towels. “No, you knew.”

“So, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Jonathan asked in a glaringly obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Storyland.”

“I think the kids are a little young for that.”

“They may be, but I’m not. I haven’t been since college, and I want to go. I also want to go to the water park.”

Laughter floated across the miles at the speed of light. “So much for my nice, quiet dinner idea.”

“We can have one of those too… come in on Friday and we can do dinner Friday night.”

Jonathan interrupted. “I hear Riley—nightmare. Got to go. Sorry.”

“Hug her for me.”

“I’ll get her to hug me for you too,” he murmured before disconnecting.

Cara smiled at the mental picture of him cradling her in his arms until she slept peacefully again—maybe singing a song that would change the directions of her dreams.

A glance at the stairs reminded her of Carly’s latest recommendation. “If you want to control your weight, you’ve got stairs, use them,” she’d insisted.

Disgusted at the realization that she
would get hot and sweaty, Cara changed into her cut-off sweats and a t-shirt. With the fit of her new gown, she’d need all the help she could get—that and the best shaping garments on the market. She wanted that dress to hide her flaws, accentuate her best features, and somehow do it without being indecent. A tough order, but her mother’s design genius just might pull it off.

Just as she thought her leg wouldn’t lift again, the phone rang. Panting, she grabbed it and dropped onto the floor. She refused to risk sweat soaking into the cushions. The carpet could be cleaned
—again—much more easily. “Hello? Whoever you are, how come you didn’t tell me to put in hardwood when I bought this house?”

“I’ll have someone there on Monday.”

“Oh! Jonathan! I didn’t know you’d call back. How’s Riley?” she gasped as she used the back of her hand to wipe huge beads of perspiration from her forehead.

“What’s wrong? You sound out of breath.”

She hesitated, embarrassed to admit her desire to tone her body as much as possible before the ball. Each time she shopped for clothing, the lack of suitably fitting garments in her size range reminded her how much curvier she was than the average woman of her height. “I was just working out.” The nonchalance she’d tried to insert sounded stilted, even to her ears.

“Working out?”

“You know—exercise…”

Silence grew from expected to awkward. Desperate to remove it, Cara forced a light air into her voice and quipped, “Permission to speak freely.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

His hesitance made her relax. He’d be gentle—no matter what he said. “Of course, Jonathan. You know I care what you think.”

“When was the last time you worked out?”

“Um—” she’d expected almost anything but that question. “I—”

“Why are you working out now of all times?”

“There’s this ball coming up, and my mom picked fabric that will cling—”

“Sounds wonderful to me.” The deep chuckle, accentuated by his attempt to stifle it, soothed her uncertain feelings.

“Oh, Jonathan, I just want to look my best,” she sighed in frustration.

“Cara mia, do you have any idea how absolutely stunning I think you are?” He paused and Cara waited for him to finish, knowing instinctively that he wasn’t finished speaking. “I—”

“You can say whatever you need to say, Jonathan. I can take it.”

“I just don’t know if it’s appropriate—”

Her heart melted. Now, she couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. “Please
tell me. What you think really matters to me.”

“I told you once just how perfectly I thought you were shaped. Do you really want me to go into detail?” He paused again and Cara waited—albeit a bit impatiently—for him to continue. “Let’s just say that no amount of toning your body would make me appreciate it any more than I do now.” She heard him swallow hard before he added, “In fact, I’d be a bit disappointed.”

“Really?”

“Besides,” he added with a smile in his voice and ignoring the question, “y
ou love your mother too much to put her through taking in a dress at the last minute.”