Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Samantha
The downtown dress shop, Ms. Jessica’s , as the over-the-door sign in scrolly font announced, was high-end, judging by the designer names and the price tags I secretly checked as we browsed. I got the feeling that Mrs. D. was not going to go for this level of luxury. The hovering salesperson, Ms. Jessica herself, wasn’t helping her feel any more comfortable. She was a stunning-looking woman with dark hair and a lot of makeup who could have been forty-six or sixty-four, I couldn’t say.
“This is simply stunning and elegant.” She held up a navy-blue one-shouldered dress with a cute tulle ruffle going across the top of the bodice and then trailing down the front.
“Oh, that’s really pretty,” Mrs. D. said. As Ms. Jessica went back to the racks to look for more, Mrs. D. rummaged for the tags. She took one look at the price and blanched. “It’s eight hundred dollars,” she said in a horrified whisper. “This was a mistake.” She looked a little panicked.
“We can leave,” I said. “Or maybe just try it on for fun? It will give us an idea of what looks good.”
When I told Caleb that I was going shopping with his mother, he’d actually smiled. And I must admit, it was quite an experience being on the receiving end of that head-on smile. It was spontaneous and open, his teeth white and straight but with just enough imperfection to look boyishly attractive. “She never spends money on herself,” he said. And then he insisted on handing me his credit card.
“Are you sure you want to give me this?” I asked. “If you see a charge for a Caribbean vacation, it totally wasn’t me.”
“Ha ha,” he said. “Sneak pay for the dress, okay? Have her get a really nice one.”
“Can I get a really nice one too?” I looked up at him with feigned innocence. “If you see a duplicate charge, that was purely accidental. Also, I have no idea how I’m supposed to sneak pay for something. Maybe I can sneak pay my credit card balance, what do you think?”
He made a strange face.
I squinted and examined him closely. “Did you almost laugh or is that your constipated face?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just shook his head and walked away. I didn’t know if I could pull one over on Mrs. D., but I did like that Caleb wanted her to have something that she didn’t feel comfortable buying for herself.
And also, I was definitely buying us ice cream on his tab.
We walked past a wall of greenery into a sitting space with white couches, rubber tree plants, and gauzy draperies where people could try on expensive dresses accompanied by any number of female friends and relatives. It was a lovely shop, but I had a feeling it was as far out of her comfort zone as it was mine.
“Look what I have.” Ms. Jessica suddenly appeared in the fitting room doorway. Mrs. D. and I simultaneously turned to find her carrying a mountain of tulle, satin, and crepe in a rainbow of colors, some sparkly, which I couldn’t help noticing. “I hope you don’t mind, but I found a few more you might like.” Mrs. D. gave an “Oh well, guess it’s too late now” shrug and pulled a comical face as she closed the curtain.
I shook my head and laughed. She had a fun sense of humor. Again, I noticed the resemblance to her son. If he ever laughed, would he pull funny faces too? I’d usually seen him when he was annoyed.
As I waited outside the fitting room, I texted Mia.
Your mom is trying on dresses at Ms. Jessica’s. Wish you were here.
How on earth did you get her in there?! came the reply.
A few minutes later, Mrs. D. stood on a carpeted platform, and I was taking pics of her from all sides.
“It’s very slimming,” she said. A rather large ornamental silk flower was sewn at the shoulder, and she instinctively pushed it away from her face. “The silk flower is pretty, but can it be removed? It’s choking me a little.” She fake-choked and bit back a laugh. Then so did I.
“Oh no no, you must not touch the flower,” Ms. Jessica said, spreading it out so that it flared out over Mrs. D.’s neck and avoided her face. As soon as she let go, the flower sprang up and hit her in the neck all over again.
“I’ve never had a dress like this,” Mrs. D. said, “but I like it. Except it looks more like a mother-of-the-bride dress than a dress to wear to a wedding.”
“Well, Mia and Brax are headed to the altar eventually,” I said. “So try out the fit by pretending to do mother-of-the-bride things.” I had no idea why I was acting so impulsively silly, but I just went with it. “Let me fix your train, my dear,” I said in a quasi-British matron voice, bending over, pretending to fix an imaginary bride’s train. Mrs. D. bent over too.
“It feels pretty comfortable,” she said. “Now what?”
“Now you greet all the relatives. ‘Hi, Uncle Martin,’” I said to the air in front of us. “‘How was your trip from California?’”
“Martin,” Mrs. D. said, talking to the same invisible person I was, “I’m so sorry about your divorce. How’s your twenty-five-year-old girlfriend that you left Mildred for, who happens to be a year younger than your oldest daughter?”
We both laughed hysterically. I glanced around to make sure Ms. Jessica wasn’t watching. I didn’t want us to get kicked out of here like two teenage girls at the mall. “You look very elegant,” I said in my own voice, putting my fingertips together as if I were holding the stem of a wineglass and pretending to hold it out to her.
She gave me a questioning look. “What’s this?”
“Your drink. You deserve it. You just married off your daughter.”
She laughed. But I wasn’t through yet. “See how it feels when you sit.” I directed her to a velvet bench nearby.
“Pretty good,” Mrs. D. said as she sat. “But the eight hundred dollars feels like a giant pain in my butt.” And then she giggled.
Which made me giggle. But then suddenly we heard the telltale click-clack of Ms. Jessica’s heels on the polished wood floor. “Hurry,” I whispered, guiding Mrs. D. into the fitting room. “Get in there and change before we get kicked out of here.” As I helped unzip her, I had an idea. “Would that thrift shop we passed have any dresses?”
I could only describe her look as one of pure relief. I knew that look well, because I was a thrift shop gal myself, through and through. “I don’t know,” she said. “But let’s go.”
* * *
Caleb
“So, Lilly.” I smiled at her over coffee and a cinnamon bun, which we were sharing at our former favorite coffee shop, Bean There, Done That , on Main Street. “Thanks for coming out to meet me.” I was trying to be nonchalant and look cheerful in a carefree way, but I could feel my neck sweating against my shirt. At least I was clean-shaven now, putting my best foot forward, so to speak.
“Of course. It’s good to see you, Caleb.” She gave me a genuine smile, which made me remember the many other times she’d smiled at me like that. She was still so pretty, with blue eyes and blond hair. Except now she wore her hair sleek and straightened.
Her pleasant greeting gave me the confidence to continue. “Listen, I wanted to meet you face-to-face to clear up a misunderstanding.”
“We talked about this a few weeks ago.” She sat back, her tone cautious. Yes, we had, but it hadn’t gone well. I’d called her to discuss the fact that we were in the wedding together and wanted us to start off on the right foot. But the conversation had devolved into a tawdry episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I’d made my case and told her it was all hospital gossip, that I wasn’t a faithless dirtball who disregarded the feelings of women, but the damage had been done.
“I wanted you to know the truth,” I said, persevering. “Especially since we’re going to be spending some time together over the next few weeks.”
“Look, you can date whomever you want. It’s not my business.”
“Fair enough.” What I really wanted to tell her, hospital gossip aside, was that I was here to find out for myself if she might be the One. If we might have missed our golden opportunity together because of all the stress we were under. That I had all these unresolved questions that had been eating away at me. That I had to separate out the what-ifs from reality, and I didn’t want to look back with regret.
But I knew that if I said any of that, she’d flee as fast as she could though the streets of Oak Bluff. So I started with the issue at hand. “What you heard about me was gossip, not the truth.”
She sighed. “Stacey is always over the top.”
“I didn’t want you to think that I’m dishonest or a cheater,” I said. “I’m the same person I’ve always been.” I felt a sense of relief. This was what I wanted her to know.
“Well,” she said, “I believe that we can’t help but be different people now. I’m in a good place, Cay. I love my job. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. You were right when you called me out on being unhappy in Milwaukee. I was miserable. My dream was always to stay here and do this.”
I admired her honesty. “Lilly, we’ve both matured,” I said. “We’ve found ourselves. I’m really glad this wedding made our paths cross again.” I stopped an inch short of “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to try again,” but I was afraid to say it. So I let the words hang.
Too soon. It was too soon for me to play my hand. My palms got suddenly clammy, and sweat ran down my back. Did she believe that I wasn’t a cheater and a player?
She set down her cup.
What I’d said was the most nonthreatening language I could come up with. So much better than I totally stalk you online, and I think that maybe I might still be in love with you. Or something that I can’t define.
She smiled a little. “I’m glad we were able to talk today. We were friends for so long. I didn’t like the way we left things.”
I didn’t want her to know that I’d been thinking about this ever since Ani had told me Lilly was going to be one of her bridesmaids. Would she be open to us trying again? Before I could overthink what she was saying, more words spilled out. “I had a job interview at the clinic,” I blurted.
Her fine brows lifted. “Oak Bluff Medical?”
“I met with Dr. Blumenthal a few weeks ago about a job in his practice. I should know whether or not I got it any time now.”
“Oh.”
I interpreted that as an interested oh . As opposed to a disappointed or a shocked one.
“That’s exciting, Cay. I’m happy for you. I never imagined you’d come back to practice in a small town like Oak Bluff.” She took off the lid of her coffee and swirled it around. “Oh no. They put soy milk in my coffee again instead of oat milk.” She rose from her seat. “I’m going to get it fixed.” She looked up at me. “Will you wait?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” She left. The air surrounding her had a soft, feminine scent. She was still so beautiful. Since when did she start drinking something other than plain coffee with lots of cream and sugar? I smiled. What else would I discover about her that was different? I couldn’t wait to find out.
My phone chimed with a text. It was a video of my mom, dressed in a light purple satiny gown… with her arms flung out, dancing.
Wait. Dancing? My mother was doing the electric slide in a store?
Three dots were also dancing under the photo. “ Your mom looks AH-MAZING in this dress, right??? If you’re nearby the thrift shop, plz stop by and tell her that! I think she should buy it! She needs some encouragement.”
I texted her back. “ Reclaim ?”
“YES!”
I rubbed my forehead and chuckled. My mom was the most ferocious bargain hunter this side of the Rockies. She called the Dollar Store the Treasure Trove. She didn’t ever pay full cost for, well… anything. Taking her to the thrift store was a stroke of genius.
Surviving cancer last year had been an ordeal for my mom—for all of us—but she’d come out of it more grateful and joyous about life than ever. She’d often said she wanted to refresh her wardrobe to reflect her new attitude, but she hated shopping alone.
But this took the joy thing to new heights. She’d trusted Sam to go with her. But enough to do this ?
Lilly returned and sat down again across from me. “The barista’s working on my drink. She said someone would bring it over.”
I took a bite of cinnamon roll and gestured for her to do the same. But she held up a hand and deferred.
“You go ahead.” She pushed her fork away. “I can’t eat like when I was a teenager.” That made me a little sad. The giant, gooey, sweet-smelling cinnamon roll we always used to share was a happy tradition. But maybe I was wrong to try to remind her of the past. Maybe I should focus on making new memories instead of reliving old ones. “I’m excited to go to the farm with everyone this weekend,” she said. “I hope we can catch up.” She reached her hand out across the table.
I took it, as I had many times before. Surveyed her smiling face. Did I hear birds singing along with a heavenly chorus of angels when she touched me? Not exactly. But I did feel good. Hopeful. She was sort of maybe giving me a chance. And she was smiling. Those were positive things, right?
“Hey,” I said. “My mom’s at Reclaim with Samantha. Have you met her yet?”
“No, but I’d love to. Mind if I go with you?”
I wasn’t expecting that, but I said sure. As I sat down and took a couple more bites of the cinnamon roll (why waste a good thing?), a flustered barista ran over to our table with Lilly’s drink. “Here you go,” she said. “Sorry for the error. We’re training someone new today and she’s a little nervous.”
“Thanks,” Lilly said with a wide smile, standing up as she spoke, “but it’s a little late. Sorry you’re too busy to properly supervise your trainees.”
The barista looked a little surprised. Frankly, so was I.
Lilly’s words certainly didn’t come out right. I was sure she didn’t mean them in a stinging fashion. Did she?
“It’s all hands on deck when the new interns come every July too,” I said with a sympathetic glance at our harried barista.
Lilly gave me an unreadable look, then pulled a bill out of her purse and traded the drink for the bill. “I’m sorry if that came out harsh. Thanks for fixing it.”
“No problem,” the woman said with a smile.
I wanted to add about nine more dollars to the buck tip. But to be fair, she’d apologized.
As the employee walked away, Lilly said, “Caleb, you’ve always been such a softie. Always trying to smooth out conflict.”
I shrugged. “Comes with the middle-child territory.”
“I just think people need feedback when new employees aren’t being carefully supervised. As a business manager myself, customer service is really important. It impacts people’s perception of the business.”
“I get it,” I said, but all I wanted was to let this go. Also, was she mansplaining to me? I wanted to tell her to chill out a little. I mean, give people the benefit of the doubt when they’re new, you know?
We started the two-block walk. I hadn’t been back to town since Christmas, and believe me, the holidays here are beautiful, but there is nothing like a stroll on a beautiful June day with pots of colorful flowers bursting everywhere in front of all the storefronts. And the smell of homemade fudge from the ice-cream shop carrying on the breeze. And everyone saying hey instead of huddling inside their winter coats. I must’ve seen about six people I knew from growing up.
It felt great to be home. It reaffirmed my desire to come back and settle down here. Of course, I hadn’t told my family yet—I knew they loved me so much they’d be all over that news, and I wanted to make sure I had the job first. And I’m kidding. They do love me, but what my folks really wanted from me now were grandchildren, preferably as near as next door.
It felt good also walking beside Lilly just as we had so many times before. But I didn’t try to hold her hand. I just let it sink in that I was with her and that I wanted to get to know the person she was now. Things were feeling pretty good so far.
The shop bell of Reclaim chimed as we walked in. Chipped chandeliers—my sister would call that shabby chic—hung from the ceiling, and the place was surrounded by racks of—well, any kind of clothing imaginable. The owners had bought the space next door, and that part contained household items of all types—china, books, glassware, furniture, the walls covered with framed paintings of all sizes and types. I’d only been here once before—years ago when Mia was looking for a prom dress—but I didn’t think that any of the decor had changed.
At first I thought that no one was around except for a few senior volunteers sifting through several long tables piled high with clothing. But then I heard laughter. Which I would describe as completely raucous. As I turned toward the voices, I saw, in the center of the room, in front of a massive mirror, two women… dancing. To be fair, Earth Wind and Fire’s “September” was playing over a speaker, and who could resist dancing to that? But still.
“My God, Caleb,” Lilly said, tugging on my shirtsleeve, “is that your mother ? And who is that with her?”
I didn’t know what disconcerted me more—the sight of my mother shimmying around, shaking it with her arms above her head in that fancy purple dress, or Sam, in a bright shimmery orange dress, letting loose right next to her.
Probably the latter. My mom used to act spontaneous like this when we were kids. “Come on, we’re pirates,” she’d say, grabbing a paper towel roll. “Now get your swords ready and prepare for battle!” Or waltzing into the kitchen after school with a giant Snickers bar on a cutting board and cutting it into slices we all shared, each piece a tiny prize. She was a fun mom, full of imagination. But I didn’t think she’d done a lot of anything like that since the cancer.
Sam was laughing with my mother, her hair spilling out of her ponytail, her laughter boisterous and even a little loud. Who knew she had that in her? And she looked amazing in that dress, free and unrestrained, letting loose. I felt confused. A little stunned. But also weirdly happy. Like, a big part of me wanted to join right in with them.
Oh, and it appeared champagne was involved, judging by the two plastic half-empty glasses nearby.
What kind of thrift store was this?
Lilly leaned over me to see. “Oh my gosh, your mom’s got some moves.”
Yeah. And you know who else had them? My nemesis. Sam was dancing with abandon, jumping up and down with enthusiasm, hip-bumping my mom.
It was quite the spectacle.
Confused and half embarrassed, I turned to leave.
Lilly had other ideas. “Hi, Mrs. D’Angelo,” she called over the music, already heading over there.
Both women halted. My mom turned around. She blew back some hair that had fallen over her face.
My mother was absolutely not the type to appear disheveled. Or to be wearing a colorful purple dress with some kind of sparkly overskirt.
Even more baffling was that this woman that I sincerely disliked was bonding with my mother. Helping her to get a dress not in the chichi dress shop but in a thrift shop. And acting wildly fun in a way that I’d never seen.
The music ended, and my mom, still laughing, pulled Sam into a big hug. She said something to her that I couldn’t hear, but Sam nodded and looked sincerely touched. Then my mom’s gaze drifted over to me, and she smiled.
That smile could’ve meant anything from I’m so happy to This woman is wonderful . I wasn’t sure which, but I didn’t have to figure it out, because just then, Lilly clapped and said, “Mrs. D’Angelo!” and went running over to them.
“Oh my goodness. Hi, Lilly,” my mom said in her usual genuine manner and opened her arms to hug her.
I can’t tell you how I appreciated that because… well, our breakup had been rough. At least on me. Now, I have to hand it to my mom. She’d greeted Lilly unconditionally and warmly, not coldly or judgmentally, which she well could have done.
Sam stopped laughing, smoothed down her flyaway hair, and extended her hand. “Hi, Lilly, I’m Samantha. Sam.”
“Oh, of course,” Lilly said. “Ani’s told me all about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you. We were at the coffee shop—I hope you don’t mind that I stopped in too.”
“Oh, of course not.” My mom flapped a dismissive hand. “It’s nice to see you, Lilly.”
“Mom,” I said, smiling and holding out my hands. “You look terrific.”
She looked pleased. “Sam helped me,” she said a little out of breath. She dropped her voice and swatted at a giant flower that appeared to be resting against her neck. “I seem to be gravitating toward dresses with giant flowers today. Sam said she could snip it right off. What do you think?”
Sam was right behind her, also a little disheveled, her hair now completely loose and free-falling over her shoulders. My mom looked terrific, but Sam… well, she looked… well.
“You’re stunning,” I said. Then I realized I might’ve been staring stupidly at Sam, so I quickly added, “Mom. Er—you should get that dress.” I cringed because did I just call my mother stunning? Even worse, did I mean that Sam was stunning? This was disturbing on so many levels. I couldn’t even look at—well, anybody.
Something else superseded my embarrassment—seeing my mom being spontaneous and laughing and dancing and living very much in the moment. “You need that dress,” I said.
“That’s what I said!” Sam said, laughing. She held my mom by the shoulders from behind and poked her head around. “See, Mrs. D., Caleb agrees. What do you think, Lilly?”
“Totally agree.” She nodded. “It’s a winner.”
A shop employee walked up, dressed in jeans with felt flowers sewn all over, a fringy leather jacket, and sunglasses. “It really is a great dress,” she said.
“Well then, I’ll take it!” my mom said, beaming. She gave Sam a hug. “This was so much fun, honey. Thank you.” They both walked into adjoining fitting rooms to change. Lilly and I browsed a little until they both came out at the same time.
My mom took the dress that Sam had draped over her arm.
“Don’t pay for that!” Sam said in a panicked voice.
“Too late,” my mom said, sweeping up the dress and carrying both over to the counter. She handed over her credit card. “Here you go.”
Sam rummaged through her own purse.
“Save it,” I said quietly, walking over to stand beside her at the counter.
“I don’t need your mom to pay for my dress too.” She looked genuinely distressed.
“How much is it?” I asked.
“Twenty bucks.”
Was she really upset about twenty bucks? I put my hand on her arm to stop her rummaging. She looked up.
“She wants to do it. As a thank-you.” I lowered my voice. “It would make her happy. I’d just let her.”
She surveyed me with those big eyes. I saw the struggle. It spoke volumes.
My mom, still looking like a kid who’d just opened six birthday presents and was now ready to dig into the cake, gave Sam a squeeze. “Will you help me later with the flower amputation?”
“Of course,” she said. Then added, “Thank you for buying my dress. It wasn’t necessary but—I love it. Two great finds!”
“Oh, honey, you’re welcome. I had the best time.”
How had Sam found the perfect compromise for my Walmart-loving mom? I didn’t know. But I was in awe.
I barely heard my mom ask me a question. “Where are you headed now, Caleb?”
“I’m going to walk Lilly back to her shop.” I turned to Lilly. “If that’s good with you.”
“Of course. Sure. We can catch up a little more.”
“Nice seeing you, Lilly,” my mom said with a wave.
“Great to finally meet you,” Sam added.
I gave a nod to both of them, making sure to barely look at Sam. I did not want Lilly thinking… well, anything. As we walked out of the dress shop and I held the door, Lilly said, “I thought Ani said you and Sam didn’t get along very well.”
“We’ve definitely had our moments,” I said. “But Sam’s all right.” She really wasn’t all right. She was stubborn and outspoken and a pain in the ass.
“That’s pretty funny that your mom found a dress there of all places.”
“My mom is the thrift queen.”
Lilly fell silent. I knew that she was most definitely not a thrifter. I didn’t know if her silence meant she was impressed or was thinking that thrift stores were not for the likes of her. Finally she spoke. “That orange color is really wild. Not many people could pull that off.”
She was talking, of course, about the dress Sam had on. “That must be a girl thing,” I said. “Guys don’t really notice that stuff.” The last thing I wanted to do was make her worried that I was noticing Sam.
Because I absolutely was not.