Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Daphne hadn’t even been able to work through half a dozen lines of her spreadsheet before Eileen Yarrow appeared in the interview room doorway. The older woman had thrown a curious look around the room, then turned her bright eyes to Daphne.
“I hope you don’t think a rolled ankle will get you out of the dance,” she said by way of greeting, shifting the garment bag she held slung over one arm onto the other. “I heard you should be good to go within a week or so.”
“Mrs. Yarrow,” Daphne replied, blinking. “Good morning.”
“Same to you,” Eileen said, then lifted the garment bag. “Ready to try on your dress?”
Daphne blinked, then jerked back. “My dress?”
How, ten minutes later, Daphne found herself locked in the staff bathroom wearing a horrific eighties prom dress, she wasn’t sure. Eileen had been insistent, and Daphne’s protests went unheard. Eileen had a vision, she said. She wanted all the dancers, including her son’s date, to look the part.
What part? was the question.
Daphne ran her hand down the iridescent-pink fabric that poofed out at the hips and fell in ruffly tiers to her midcalf. A sweetheart neckline was capped with the most gigantic puff sleeves Daphne had ever seen. On her left hip, a big floppy bow announced the beginning of the tiered portion of the skirt, as if anyone could miss it.
On the bathroom counter waited a sparkly pink tiara.
She looked like a little girl pretending to be Barbie for Halloween. Or an amateur ballroom dancer who’d accidentally stumbled into the wrong DeLorean.
She jumped when someone rapped on the door. “So?” Eileen called out. “Does it fit?”
“Um,” Daphne replied, eyes glued on the reflection in the mirror. “Define ‘fit.’”
“Come out. If we need to make alterations, I need to know now. We haven’t got much time.”
“Yeah, come out!” Shirley said. “Eileen has always had great taste.”
Daphne glared at the door. There was a low hum of conversation outside the bathroom, and Daphne could only imagine the audience she’d have when she stepped out. Cops were the worst gossips, and today had been slow. They were desperate for entertainment.
Sighing, Daphne limped to the door. She was doing this for her grandmother. If she had to embarrass herself in front of a few people, who cared? This would all be worth it when she got her grandmother’s heirloom pot back. Besides, it wasn’t like she and Flint were actually dating. She could play along with this ridiculous outfit if it got her into the party.
Shoulders squared, Daphne flung open the door.
Only to see the sheriff walking across the office toward her, his mother beckoning with a hopeful smile on her lips. The group of deputies waiting by the bathroom door went deathly silent. Calvin’s steps stuttered, his brows slamming down.
“Perfect,” Eileen crooned when she saw the dress. “You look amazing, Daphne.”
“You sure do,” Shirley added, fingers doing a terrible job of covering her twitching lips. “I think I might have worn something similar to my homecoming dance.”
“It’s very ...” Teri frowned as she took in the sheer volume of fabric. “Much,” she finished.
“‘It’s very much’?” Daphne repeated, planting her hands on her hips.
“That it is,” another deputy said.
She turned to face Flint, who had recovered from his stumble and approached the group. His frown was still firmly in place, his eyes slitted as they swept down Daphne’s body and back up again. Turning to his mother, he asked, “Is this a joke?”
Eileen reared back. “Excuse me?”
“Is this a joke, Mother?”
“A joke! Why would I joke about my vow renewal? You know how much I care about this event. We’ve done fittings for all the other dancers. Ceecee loves her dress! She and Kathy helped me pick them out. Kathy said the flounces would look great when everyone twirls, and Ceecee picked the color. I told you we were doing hot pink, didn’t I?”
His jaw worked, and he turned back to Daphne. “Would you have made Jenna Deacon wear this thing?”
“What kind of question is that?” Eileen said. “Calvin, this is for a performance . Kathy insisted we go for volume, especially for the big feather reveal.”
“It definitely has volume,” Shirley offered, fluffing the bottom hem.
“The proportions ...,” Teri put in, nodding, failing once again to finish her sentence.
Despite the edge of embarrassment, Daphne found her lips twitching. Eileen was obviously a delusional maniac without an ounce of fashion sense, which was oddly endearing. And the look on Flint’s face was a strange mix of horror and humor.
A few years ago, Daphne would have considered backing out. Back then, her life had been safe. Small. But now, what did she care? The only reason she was going to Eileen’s event was to get a cast-iron pot back. She’d returned to the island at her lowest. What did it matter if she had to show up in a ridiculous dress?
She was doing this for her grandmother, and for herself. She’d wear whatever was required.
“Mother—”
Daphne’s dress crinkled and swished as she twirled. The yards and yards of fabric spread out around her as she did, knocking into people’s legs and the wall behind her. The weight of the fabric was enough to knock her crutches to the ground. She wobbled and caught herself against the wall, then met Eileen’s gaze. “Thank you so much for thinking of me. I’d be honored to wear it to your vow renewal.”
Eileen gave her a sharp nod. Daphne shifted to look at the sheriff. He had his hands on his hips and was staring at Daphne’s dress like he wanted to burn it.
“Mom. Daphne. I’d like to speak to you both in my office.” He gestured toward the opposite side of the room, and his mother squeezed his arm as she brushed past. Shirley picked up the crutches from the ground and helped Daphne squish the dress out of the way so Daphne could use them without tripping over her own clothing. Then she bit her lip to hide her smile and swung her way over to the sheriff’s office.
She should’ve known the moment she saw Kathy directing their ridiculous choreography that there’d be costumes. Still, she couldn’t have predicted this.
Slumping into one of the chairs, Daphne patted the fabric down so she could see over the top of it. Flint’s face appeared, and she wasn’t sure if he was angry or trying to hold back his laughter. Maybe both.
He turned to his mother, who sat in the chair to Daphne’s right. “You never mentioned anything about a dress.”
“You never asked.”
“Daphne, you don’t have to wear that thing.”
“Of course she does!”
Daphne plucked at the fabric, watching how it shimmered under the fluorescent lights. “I think it’s nice,” she lied.
Eileen looked at her son and gave him a look that said See? She thinks it’s nice.
“It looks like something from a Molly Ringwald movie, Mom.”
“What’s wrong with Molly Ringwald movies? Archie’s favorite is The Breakfast Club .”
Daphne fluffed one of the shoulder puffs. “Not Pretty in Pink ?”
Flint pinched the bridge of his nose, then lifted his gaze to Daphne. “You’re okay with this?”
Daphne shrugged, the fabric on her shoulders flapping like wings. “Sure.”
Eileen patted Daphne’s arm, then looked at Flint. “Calvin, look. If you don’t want to do the dance, I understand. I know you and I ... I know things haven’t been easy. It was Ceecee that got excited about the choreography, and I ...” Eileen touched the iridescent-pink fabric, feeling it between her fingers. “Maybe I’ve gotten carried away with it all. It’s just a bit of fun, you know? Something to get people talking.” She straightened her shoulders and looked at her son. “But I won’t force you to do anything. I’m just glad you’re coming.”
Daphne watched the way Eileen smiled at Calvin and felt a pang of empathy. There was sadness in the older woman’s gaze—and understanding. This wasn’t a woman who felt good about her relationship with her son, but she looked almost lost as to how to fix it. Maybe it couldn’t be fixed.
But a woman who was happy to have a silly dance with feathers and ridiculous dresses to mark her ten-year anniversary was a woman who liked to laugh, and who wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself. It was a woman who took her nine-year-old daughter’s opinions into consideration and didn’t get hung up on appearances.
Either that, or she had awful taste.
Flint sighed, gaze sliding to Daphne. “It’s up to you,” he told her.
She heard what he didn’t say: that he knew she didn’t love to be in the limelight, and he’d listen to her if this dress was a step too far. He didn’t think Daphne was the quiet, responsible good girl that everyone else seemed to see, but he still wanted her to be comfortable.
“Ceecee would be disappointed if we backed out,” Daphne responded. “She lights up every time she mentions the dance.”
“It was her idea,” Eileen admitted, lips twitching. “Mostly, I’m looking forward to showing her the video when she’s old enough to be embarrassed about it. And her father will do anything she asks,” she added with a soft laugh. “‘Wrapped around her little finger’ doesn’t even cover half of what she’s done to him.”
Daphne grinned. “She’s a good kid.”
Eileen smiled wide, then darted a glance at her eldest. “I’m just trying to do it right this time around.” Her voice was quiet, but Daphne still heard her remorse and her pain. It wasn’t her place to get between Flint and his mother, but she wondered whether there was any hope of forgiveness from him.
“You can change out of it after the dance,” Eileen offered. “I think everyone else is planning to.”
Daphne dipped her head. “Sounds good.”
Flint’s shoulders softened, and tenderness entered his expression when he lifted his gaze to Daphne’s. “It would make Ceecee happy,” he agreed.
“Worth it,” Daphne replied, smoothing her hands down the fabric.
Flint escorted his mother to the exit, watched her walk out of the station, then prowled back into his office. He closed the door, threw the lock, and drew the blinds. When he turned back to Daphne, his eyes were dark as sin.
“Uh-oh,” Daphne said a second before the sheriff hauled her out of her chair and dropped her on his desk.
“‘Uh-oh’ is right,” he said—and crushed his lips to hers.