Chapter 9
GRACE
Standing before the floor-length mirror in this swanky boutique dressing room, I can’t help comparing this moment to Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
My hands ghost down the shimmering dark platinum cocktail dress.
You’d think it had been hand sewn specifically for me by the way it clings to my body in all the right places.
My gaze lands on my discarded ridiculous white tank and tattered shorts on the floor.
Boho chic, my best friend calls my style.
It’s literally thrift store fashion at its finest. Or worse, according to my co-workers.
But I love that Tuesday sees nothing but the best in me, labeling me as quirky, not contemptible.
She’s never once let me feel inferior. God, if she could see me right now. I snicker.
Standing on my tiptoes, I rotate from side to side, taking in the over-the-top sparkle and the way the back dips seductively low.
Pffft. Lauren could only hope to carry outfits like this in her store, I harumph.
A giggle escapes as I imagine the expressions on her and Tiffani’s faces if they passed me on the sidewalk wearing this.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I revel in this rare moment of joy.
How could this day have turned around so spectacularly?
After recovering from the whole flat tire debacle, I managed to contact my mother’s neighbor, Winnie, to see if she would call the MediVan to take Mom to her appointments today.
I’d really wanted to be there. Not only did she have several hours between the two, she’ll have to wait aimlessly, but I was also curious to see if her pulmonologist might have any free samples Mom could use until her insurance hit the donut hole.
Her healthcare expenses were astronomical.
Once we reached the end of the year and her deductibles were met, we could finally catch a break as her copays and prescription costs were covered until the new calendar year.
But I’d learned Mom wasn’t good about advocating for herself.
“You doing okay in there?”
Good Lord, Grace. You manage to get all dolled up, and that’s where your head goes? Enjoy this.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry I’m taking so long. I’ve never worn anything this incredible before. I lost my head for a minute.”
“Is it okay to come in?”
“Of course!” Rushing to open the door, I’m greeted with a sigh of contentment from the kind saleswoman. Her arms are laden with shoes, a clutch, and what appears to be a makeup bag.
“This dress was made for you,” she gushes.
“I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“You’re going to knock Ben’s socks off.” She laughs. “I can’t wait to take in his expression.
Ben. That’s a nice name.
I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know about that.
” Glancing at my reflection, I flinch, taking in my puffy eyes, and my ridiculous hair.
It looks like a bird made a nest on top of my head, then decided to fly off in search of new digs.
I chew on the corner of my lip, my gaze landing on the saleswoman’s nametag.
Glinda. Like the good witch in The Wizard of Oz.
Feels fitting, somehow. “If only the rest of me looked as sophisticated as this dress.”
Glinda raises her arms, bringing the stiletto heels and the makeup bag into view. “That’s where I come in, dear.”
As if this woman had a direct dial to Cinderella’s fairy godmother, I’m all dolled up and ready to go in ten minutes flat. Watching her in action was like living a real-life rom-com montage. “Thank you. I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life.”
“Oh, Grace. I’m grateful you allowed me to take part in your evening. It was an honor.”
Lord, please don’t anyone wake me from this dream.
Glinda swings the dressing room door wide, and I’m suddenly face to face with the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Heck, he was beautiful before. But in a white dress shirt that hugs his sinewy frame, and a royal blue tie that brings out the dazzling sapphire hue of his irises, he’s mouthwateringly handsome.
“Hell.” Ben drags his hand through his dark hair, the slight muss only adding to his allure. I nervously wring my hands in front of me, hoping he’s not disappointed. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
My throat tightens at his compliment. And what’s more, it feels genuine.
Don’t cry, Grace. Been there, done that, remember? He might start to worry you’ve got issues.
“Thank you for allowing us to work with your Grace, Ben. She’s simply lovely. I hope you’ll bring her back someday real soon,” Glinda adds.
“Yes,” he splutters. “Grace. I mean… yes.” He shakes his head, chuckling nervously. “I do too.”
A low chorus of giggles erupts behind us, and I turn to take in several of Glinda’s coworkers. Man, if days working at my shop felt like this, I wouldn’t mind it near as much.
“You two run along now. We’ll put this on your tab, Ben.”
His tab? That seems odd. Maybe he knows someone who works here. Oh, Glinda is probably his older sister or something. I mean, I couldn’t find any prices on the garments I tried on. But if Lauren’s shop is any indication, I can’t imagine this is on a construction worker’s budget.
Ben leads me to his truck. His warm hand pressed to the exposed skin of my lower back causes electricity to pulse through me.
My body is tingling in anticipation of the night ahead instead of dreading it.
Yet why am I so nervous all of a sudden?
After the way we met, the rest of the night should be a piece of cake.
My gaze catches on someone in the distance and pauses, the abrupt stop nearly causing Ben to topple onto me.
“You okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” My eyes narrow, trying to make out the figure.
I’m sure I’m imagining things, because there’s no way that’s Brad.
He doesn’t even own a suit. Shaking my head, I gaze up at Ben, giving him an apologetic grin.
“Sorry. Just thought I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a while. But I was mistaken.”
He gives me that endearing smile that makes my toes squirm in my overpriced heels before closing the door behind me.
Ben runs to his side of the vehicle and starts up his truck.
I hadn’t paid much attention on the way here.
It’s quite nice. But I’ve known men to overspend on their vehicles.
So I try not to get caught up in it. I mean, so long as he has a good job and didn’t steal it from his ex, who am I to judge?
We drive to the restaurant cloaked in uncomfortable silence, each stealing not-so-subtle glimpses of the other.
I’d be worried by the awkward silence if it weren’t for his sweet smile and slight red hue to his cheeks above that scrumptious five o’clock shadow.
I consider making small talk, but then abruptly remember he’s driving to an interview.
He’s probably running through bullet points in his head.
The last thing I want to do is make that worse.
As we pull into the parking lot, I lean forward, attempting to take in the restaurant, only to find an older hotel. Odd. Seems like he could’ve met for dinner somewhere a lot more convenient than this broken-down old place.
Before I have time to give it any further thought, Ben is at my door, holding his hand out for mine.
Taking it, I look up at him. “Thank you.” He merely grins down at me.
Jeez. He hasn’t said a peep since we left the shop.
Is he wishing he’d come alone after all?
Or has the sight of this place rattled his cage? “You’ve got this, Ben.”
He straightens awkwardly, hesitates as if he’s going to say something, then places his hand on my lower back once more, leading me toward the entrance. I grimace. Man, I hope he can shake off these nerves before meeting his potential boss.
Walking into the lobby of the hotel, Ben turns left and heads down a hallway as if he’s been here before. The carpet is worn, and the place smells a bit musty. I hope the food is better than the atmosphere.
We approach the hostess stand, and while we wait for someone to assist us, my eyes sweep the dimly lit space.
It’s virtually empty. The décor is dated, but the view from the floor to ceiling windows is beautiful.
The sun is just starting to descend, pink and purple hues competing for attention as they stretch across the sky.
There are boats of various sizes docked in assigned slips along the water’s edge.
It feels as if we’re a world away from Hanover.
“Hi, we’re supposed to be meeting Milton Beaumont for dinner. I’m afraid we’re running a bit late.” I hadn’t even noticed the hostess approach, lost in the view.
Suddenly, a heavy-set man with ruddy skin and a really awful comb-over arrives at our side. “Ben?”
“Mr. Beaumont?”
“Yes, yes. I’m so glad you could make it. And you were able to bring the little lady.”
Ben clears his throat suddenly seeming quite nervous. The overconfident charismatic man from earlier has left the building. This job must be really important. “Yes. Her plans changed at the last minute. This is Grace.”
The jovial gentleman reaches out for my hand, wearing a huge toothy grin.
“Hello.”
“Why hello, my dear. It’s so nice to meet Ben’s fiancée.”
I’m sorry, what?