Chapter Seven
Amanda believed every emotional crisis could be improved by the correct dress.
Meagan disagreed.
Some crises required organization, direct communication, and practical decision-making.
Others required boarding a plane before anyone could persuade her to reorganize her entire life for a man she had known less than a week.
According to Amanda, both categories still benefited from excellent tailoring.
“This one,” Amanda announced.
She held up a red dress.
Meagan looked at it from the end of Hailey’s bed.
“No.”
“You haven’t tried it on.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You cannot evaluate a dress from six feet away.”
“I can evaluate that one from another state.”
Amanda glanced at the dress. “What’s wrong with it?”
“The neckline.”
“It has one.”
“Barely.”
“The back is elegant.”
“The back is missing.”
“That’s why it’s elegant.”
Meagan looked toward Hailey for assistance.
Hailey sat cross-legged against the headboard with her laptop balanced on one knee, reviewing the gala seating chart.
Table Four remained visible on the screen.
Daniel Mercer and Celeste Warren were seated beside the other Hawthorne and Lowe representatives.
“I think the red is pretty,” Hailey said carefully.
Meagan stared at her.
Hailey returned her attention to the computer.
“You are both impossible.”
Amanda placed the red dress across a chair already holding four rejected options.
Hailey’s guest room had stopped functioning as a bedroom sometime around nine that morning.
Garment bags hung from the closet doors. Shoe boxes lined one wall. Makeup, jewelry, curling tools, and several products Meagan could not identify covered the dresser.
Amanda had arrived with three bags.
Hailey had produced two more from her closet.
A boutique had delivered four dresses after Amanda called in what she described as an emergency favor.
Meagan had spent the first twenty minutes attempting to restore order.
Amanda had confiscated the label maker.
“This is not gala preparation,” Meagan said. “This is a retail disaster.”
“It is an intervention.”
“For what?”
“Under-dressing.”
“I own formal clothing.”
“You own clothing designed to reassure board members.”
“That is a useful category.”
“It is not a romantic one.”
“The gala is a fundraiser.”
Amanda placed one hand against her chest. “You have wounded me.”
“I was attempting to.”
Hailey smiled without looking up.
Meagan crossed her arms. “How many more?”
“Three.”
“You said that five dresses ago.”
“The situation evolved.”
“The situation has hangers.”
Amanda returned to the garment bags.
Meagan looked toward the seating chart again.
Daniel’s name sat beside Celeste’s.
Aaron’s place card waited at Table Six beside hers.
The sight created a small, unsettling warmth.
She had spent the previous evening replaying the conversation at the foundation office.
I wanted to kiss you before Daniel walked into the room. That was as far as Aaron had allowed himself to go. The part I stopped before I said too much.
Meagan had spent hours wondering what too much contained. She had also spent hours insisting she did not want to know. Both positions were becoming difficult to maintain.
Amanda pulled a pale green dress from the closet.
“No.”
“You haven’t seen it.”
“I can see it from here.”
“It’s refined.”
“It looks like a bridesmaid dress.”
“A sophisticated bridesmaid.”
“No.”
Amanda returned it to the bag with unnecessary disappointment.
Hailey closed her laptop.
“So, your supervisor called again?”
Meagan looked at her. “How do you know?”
“You looked at your phone six times.”
“That proves nothing.”
“You normally look at it twice.”
Amanda paused. “Is this about Monday?”
Meagan gave Hailey a pointed look.
“I only told Amanda that your office needs an answer,” Hailey said.
“That was not your information to distribute.”
“She was going to notice you were carrying your phone like an unexploded device.”
Amanda nodded. “I am observant.”
“You are invasive.”
“I can be both.”
Meagan sat on the edge of the bed.
Her supervisor wanted confirmation that she would return Monday to lead the Halston account transition.
The opportunity Daniel had mentioned was not official, but he had sent her a message that morning.
Martin is available for fifteen minutes after the gala program. No pressure, but it would be worth the conversation.
No pressure.
Apparently, everyone had adopted the phrase.
“What are you going to do?” Hailey asked.
“I have not decided.”
Amanda opened her mouth.
Meagan lifted one hand.
“Do not ask what I want.”
Amanda closed her mouth.
Hailey watched her gently.
Meagan looked away.
The problem was not that she did not know what she wanted.
She wanted Aaron.
She wanted the gala.
She wanted another morning at Doris’s café and another volleyball game where he trusted her to call the line.
She wanted the unfinished sentence from the foundation office.
She simply did not know what any of those wants were allowed to mean beside New York, her career, and the life she had built carefully enough to survive without surprises.
Amanda removed one final garment bag from the closet.
“I saved this one.”
“Why?”
“Because you would have rejected it too early.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Amanda unzipped the bag. Inside was a dark blue dress.
Meagan’s attention caught despite herself.
The fabric was soft and fluid, somewhere between navy and midnight. The neckline curved gently across the front. Narrow straps crossed at the back above a fitted waist, and the long skirt fell in a clean line with a slit along one side.
It was elegant.
Not loud. Not cautious either.
Amanda held it against her.
“This one.”
Meagan touched the fabric. “Where did that come from?”
“The boutique.”
“You showed me everything from the boutique.”
“I showed you what I was willing to let you reject.”
“That is manipulation.”
“It is curation.”
Hailey stood beside them.
“It looks like you.”
Meagan glanced at her.
“What does that mean?”
Hailey considered the dress. “It is polished, but it does not disappear.”
The answer settled more deeply than Meagan expected.
She had spent years choosing clothing for usefulness.
Work dresses that moved from meetings to dinners.
Neutral colors that photographed well.
Shoes that survived train platforms and long event nights.
Clothing that made her look capable without asking anyone to look twice.
The dark blue dress was not impractical. It simply refused to apologize for being noticed.
“I’ll try it.”
Amanda gasped.
“I agreed to try it, not purchase it.”
“You will purchase it.”
“That is not settled.”
“It is settled emotionally.”
“I reject that category.”
Amanda pushed the dress into her arms and pointed toward the bathroom.
“Change.”
Meagan carried the dress inside and closed the door.
The garment fit without argument.
That felt suspicious.
She adjusted the zipper and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.
For a moment, she did not recognize the woman looking back.
Not because the dress transformed her.
She still looked like Meagan.
Brown hair falling over one shoulder.
Brown eyes that revealed more than she preferred.
The same body she often treated as transportation between responsibilities.
The dress did not change her. It simply refused to let her hide inside competence.
She turned slightly.
The slit revealed one leg when she moved. Her shoulders remained bare above the dark fabric.
She looked confident.
Like the kind of woman who entered a room expecting to be seen.
A knock sounded.
“You have been in there for ninety seconds,” Amanda called. “That is either very good or very bad.”
“It takes time to assess construction.”
“It has one zipper.”
Meagan opened the door.
Amanda stopped speaking.
Hailey rose from the bed.
Neither said anything.
Meagan looked down at the dress.
“What?”
Amanda placed both hands over her mouth.
“No.”
“That is not useful.”
Hailey’s eyes brightened. “You look beautiful.”
The sincerity in her voice tightened Meagan’s throat.
“Thank you.”
Amanda lowered her hands.
“Emotionally devastating.”
“That is not the goal.”
“It should be.”
Meagan walked farther into the room. The skirt moved easily around her legs.
“Is the slit too high?”
“No,” Hailey said.
“Not high enough,” Amanda replied.
Meagan ignored her and looked at herself in the mirror above the dresser.
The woman reflected there was not Daniel’s practical ex-girlfriend.
Not Hailey and Amanda’s dependable friend.
Not the employee who could be counted on to resolve every difficult transition.
She was still all those things. But she was also the woman Aaron had watched laugh on a volleyball court.
The woman he had wanted to kiss before anyone gave him a reason.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser.
Amanda reached it first.
“No.”
Meagan crossed the room.
Amanda lifted the phone out of reach.
“You are wearing a dress. You have temporarily surrendered administrative control.”
“I have done no such thing.”
“It’s Aaron.”
Meagan stopped.
Her pulse reacted before Amanda opened the message.
“Give it to me.”
Amanda glanced at the screen.
“That is interesting.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing inappropriate.”
“Give me the phone.”
Amanda handed it to Hailey.
Meagan stared at both of them.
“This is a violation.”
Hailey read the message and smiled before handing over the phone.
Aaron: Evelyn moved the rehearsal to five. I can pick you up at four-thirty.
A second message appeared.
Aaron: I also reserved the back court for Tuesday morning. I thought we could play before breakfast if you’re still sore from Sunday.
Meagan read the second message twice.
Tuesday.
Her supervisor expected her in New York Monday morning. Aaron knew that. Or at least, he knew she had not decided.
Amanda looked over her shoulder.
“Tuesday volleyball.”
“I can read.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It sounds presumptuous.”
Hailey’s expression shifted. “He may have meant if you’re still here.”
“He did not write if.”
Meagan looked down at the dark blue dress.
The warmth she had felt a moment earlier tightened into something less comfortable.
Aaron had begun imagining Tuesday.
Another game.
Breakfast.
A week continuing after the gala.