Page 66 of Home for Christmas in July

“I need to change,” I tell the closest Jolly, who turns out to be a Field.

Rosemary looks up from the vegetable Christmas tree she’s arranging on an identical platter. She places a black olive with precision, then unties her apron.

“I’ll walk you back to the guest house. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll change. Holly said the doors open at two,but people don’t show up in force until closer to the happy hour.”

“That’s right. These first few hours will mostly be families with little ones. So Ivy and Sage will be busy with the arts and crafts, but otherwise the crowd should be light.”

“Perfect. Let’s go now before someone can give us another job.”

I give her an apologetic smile. “I hate to ask, but all the clothes Holly pulled together for me are pretty casual. So, unless I’m going to wear the Mrs. Claus dress, I need to borrow something else. Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault there’s a psycho out there looking for you.”

Isn’t it, though?

I brush the thought away and say, “You’re right.”

She grins. “Anyway, you’re in luck. Sage always tells us that you redheads have special color concerns when it comes to your wardrobe. I have no clue if that’s true, but she packed at least four dresses so she’d have options for today. Let’s find her before the arts and crafts start and get you even more gorgeous.”

We head into the family’s living area and find Sage in the hall bathroom doing her makeup elbow to elbow with Ivy. They’re wearing adorable sundresses. Sage’s is, well, sage green with tiny silver polka-dots. The green definitely complements her copper-colored hair. Ivy’s is red- and white-striped with fun bows on the pockets. When Rosemary announces that it’s time for my makeover, they both squeal and drop their lip glosses.

Ten minutes later, I’m wearing a beautiful emerald greensleeveless shantung silk dress that fits me like a glove. While Ivy curls my hair into wavy face-framing tendrils, Sage is giving me a smoky eye.

Merry pops her head into the bathroom. “Whoa, Dad’s gonna die when he sees you. You look hot.” She holds up a pair of silver sandals with a kitten heel. “I think these will fit you.”

“Thanks.”

She puts them down in front of me, and I step into them carefully so as to avoid a hot curling iron to the neck or a mascara wand to the eyeball. Female beauty can be a real minefield. But, let’s face it, it can also be a ridiculous amount of fun—especially, when you’ve got good friends to get ready with. And I realize that even though all these women are twenty-some years younger than me, I consider them friends.

“The shoe fits,” I announce.

“Then I guess you’ll wear it,” Merry says with a grin. Then she frowns at my toes. “There’s a fun pearl nail polish in the other bathroom if you want to do your toes.”

“Thanks. I love that jumpsuit on you.”

Merry gives us a twirl and the wide, flowing legs of her deep red jumpsuit flare out. “Me, too. I learned the hard way that catering in a dress sucks peppermint balls.”

“You can saythatagain,” Rosemary says as she reappears, wearing a similar jumpsuit. Hers is classic black, and she’s tied a red and white sash around the waist for a splash of color. She’s braided her long blonde hair into an updo.

I swipe a lipstick over my mouth and we all spill out into the hallway, where we run into Holly, who’s wearing a silver sheath dress and red stilettos that make my feet ache justfrom looking at them, and Thyme, adorable in a one-shoulder maxi dress with a diagonal stripe in muted greens and reds.

“Group picture before we start mingling!” Holly announces.

We all gather in the family room, and Holly starts messing with the timer on her camera.

“Wait. Where’s your dad?” I say.

She frowns and puts down the digital camera. “I’ll find him.”

She rushes out of the living room and returns a moment later with Nick in tow. He does a double take. “Wow, you all look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Dad. Now squeeze in, please.” Holly sets the timer and runs to stand next to Rosemary while Nick wedges himself into the picture beside me.

“You look particularly gorgeous,” he whispers into my hair.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” I whisper back. It’s true. He’s wearing tan linen pants and a forest green linen shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows.

“Smile!” Holly orders.

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