Chapter 19 #2
I take it from her. “Is there a reason why there aren’t any blue dresses?”
“It was impossible to find a blue dress that matches your shoes.”
“I haven’t bought shoes yet. I was waiting to get the dress.”
“Mr. Lindstrom did the honors.”
I’m going to wring Mr. Lindstrom’s neck. “What?”
Judith opens the door to the changing room and invites me to enter.
I poke my head inside.
I can’t believe my eyes. “He bought those for… me?”
“I believe they’re in your size. He said something about the Hamptons a year ago. I didn’t get it, but he said it was significant.”
Tears needle at the corner of my eyes.
I bite my lower lip so they don’t slip out.
On the day I attended the double birthday party at Kaz’s cottage, I was wearing the blue Hangisi Manolo Blahniks I had saved up an entire year to buy.
Back in the day, I was debt-free, and determined to remain that way.
My beloved shoes were the first item of value I sold to a secondhand store to help keep my head above water.
I died inside when the clerk told me how much I would get if they sold––a fraction of what I paid for them.
I pick up one shoe and flip it over.
My stupor deepens.
Kaz remembered the designer and my shoe size?
The first three dresses I tried on either weren’t my style or they didn’t suit my petite body. As I wait for Judith to return with a few other selections, I pace around the changing room wearing the latest reject with my eyes glued to my beautiful new shoes.
I can’t believe I get to own these again.
How can I ever repay Kaz for his generosity?
I’m sure he wants me to look the part, but he didn’t have to drop that kind of money on shoes.
My phone rings.
I rush to the chair in the corner of the changing room and rummage through my handbag. I grimace when I see the name on the screen.
Shit.
I can’t keep avoiding her.
As I debate if I should let my best friend’s call go to voicemail, it hits me.
I’m not in my shitty basement apartment.
With a smile stretching my lips, I accept the video call.
“Harl,” Ciara says.
“Ci,” I say her name with as much enthusiasm.
“You look radiant,” she says.
My best friend is looking at me through rose-colored spectacles. I’m not wearing any makeup and the bags underneath my eyes are impossible to miss. I had another nightmare last night. Kaz was close by to comfort me. I’m so glad I didn’t protest him sleeping in the armchair again.
“Radiant?” I scoff. “For the first time in the history of mankind, dressing room lighting is working in my favor.”
She squints. “Are you shopping?”
I nod. “I am. I’m attending a charity event tonight.”
Since I’ve been hiding how bad things are for me from Ciara, every time we’ve had a video call, I’ve made sure to be standing in front of a white wall inside my apartment, so she wouldn’t be able to tell I no longer lived in the house I used to own.
The timing of this call couldn’t be better because I can offer a different background.
“You’re so lucky. You get to shop. Nothing fits this body.” She points down. “Look.” She lowers her phone to her round belly.
It’s so much bigger than the last time I saw it.
“I’m huge, Harl. I can’t see my feet anymore.” She angles her phone. “How many toes do I have?” She wiggles her coral painted toes.
“Twenty-six.”
“The more my tummy grows, the more toes I collect.” She brings her phone to her face. “It’s no wonder I can’t walk with ease anymore.” She juts out her bottom lip.
I laugh. “You have three buns in the oven, Ci. Give yourself some grace. And no matter your size, your adoring husband still loves you.”
Her features soften. “I still can’t get over the fact he’s rearranged his whole schedule so he can remain in Copenhagen and work from home so he’s close by whenever I need him.
He’s cancelled all international trips. No matter how many times I blame him for knocking me up with three babies instead of going the normal route of one at a time, I’ll never give him up. ”
“Nor should you. Your man is a keeper.”
“I hooked a good one.”
Please God, throw one of those my way.
Kaz’s gorgeous face flashes in front of my eyes.
Silly Harley.
“Enough about me and my growing belly, I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to. I can’t shake off the feeling you’re avoiding me.”
Spot on, sister. That’s why I’ve been using your difficult pregnancy to keep it to text messages. “Nonsense.”
“You’re sure?”
“Ciara, you have enough things on your plate. Stop worrying about me. We’re talking now, aren’t we?”
“Okay. I feel better,” she says. “Now that you’ve put my mind at ease, tell me about tonight’s gala. Who’s your date? Where did you meet? Is it hot and heavy?”
“Well…” I brush my hair behind my ear. “Tonight’s—”
“Sorry for interrupting you, but when are you going to go back to your pixie cut?”
Not anytime soon. I can’t afford to maintain a cut which requires visiting the salon every three weeks. “Change is good.”
“Let’s see how long it is,” she says.
I lower my phone.
“Wait.” She lifts a hand up. “Is that a real Bvlgari Serpenti Viper slim necklace? Because there’s no way in hell a knockoff would look that good.” She squints. “Under the neon light, the diamonds are blinding me.”
Shit.
Kaz doesn’t believe in half measures.
Along with the couture, the designer shoes, and the whole enchilada, my roommate decided I needed diamond jewelry.
I bring my hand to the necklace. “Err…”
“The last time we spoke, you told me that after you and your former business partners parted ways, one of your clients had given you a job to manage floral arrangements for all of his restaurants and his hotel. Is your client… your sugar daddy?”
God, I keep piling up the lies, but I can’t tell her the truth.
It takes everything in me to school my expression.
“There’s nothing happening between me and my client.
He’s a married man.” I add another layer to my fictitious client turned boss.
“In any case, he had to downsize, so I had to find a new job. It’s rough out there so, I ended up…
taking a job as a waitress until something better came along. ”
“So you met your new man at your new job, and he’s already buying you expensive jewelry and you’re going to the gala with him tonight.” She sits a little straighter in her bed. “Tell me everything.”
The wheels in my head spin at a frantic pace, as I attempt to weave a story. “I met him—”
“Miss Lancaster, I have three fabulous selections,” Judith says from the other side of the door.
“Ci, I have to go.”
“Have fun getting all dolled up. Call me later and fill me in.” She blows kisses my way.
I do the same.
She ends the call.
I let my head loll back.
Saved by the fashion consultant.