“Um, I don’t really have any fancy shoes.” Embarrassment rushed through me. What kind of woman was I that I didn’t even own a pair of heels? Most women my age likely had several pairs and probably wore them on date nights. My previous “dates” had largely consisted of pizza takeout or a night at a local pub, none of which had called for a fancy dress or heels.
I wassoout of my element.
“Not a problem at all. The dresses will be long enough to cover your shoes, or if you want, I’m happy to go shoe shopping with you.”
“Shoe shopping?” I must have said it in the same tone as someone who had just sniffed rotten fish, and Willow gasped, holding a hand to her chest.
“Don’t tell me you hate shoe shopping.”
“What’s there to shop for?” I looked down at my work boots, admiring the little hearts etched in the leather. I had two pairs of work boots, one my “clean” pair, and one for dirtier jobs. Next to those, I had a solid pair of wellies, and a pair of trainers if I ever felt like going for a walk. What else did I need?
Willow closed her eyes and pretended to count to ten.
“Before I kidnap you and force you into the car to teach you the joys of shoe shopping, I’ll ask first. Do you want a nice pair of shoes to match your gown?”
Worry filled me. Would it be a huge faux pas if I didn’t wear the correct shoes at a gala? I mean, this was a fancyevent with a custom-made gown. I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
“I’ll do whatever you think is best. I don’t want to look stupid,” I said.
“But why should she buy a pair of heels she’ll never wear again?” Lia pointed out, coming to my defense.
“I’m not saying she has to. But I bet we could find a happy medium. One that isn’t work boots, for either of you. Here…let me show you.” Willow crossed the room and opened her laptop, typing away before turning the screen. “What about these?”
Lia and I stepped closer, bending to see what looked like satin ballet flats.
We both hissed in response, and Willow rolled her eyes before turning the computer back to herself.
“Fine, too far. Right, what about…this?”
“Oh, that’s not bad. Can we pull that off?” Lia asked. On the screen were a pair of silver sparkly Converse low-tops, looking very cute, but serviceable as well.
“I don’t see why not. If you’re dancing and twirl and your skirt comes up, people will just catch a glimpse of sparkles. Or if you cross your leg and your shoe shows. Again, sparkles. It will look more thoughtful than work boots, but you’ll both be comfortable.”
“I’m not opposed to this. Orla?”
“Um.” I realized that I, too, was not opposed to this idea. I didn’t want to feel awkward at the gala, like I was some interloper, and I trusted Willow to lead us in the right direction. If sparkly Converse were the answer, then I was happy to compromise there. “Och, surprisingly, no, I’m notopposed. They look comfortable. Those are brilliant, Willow.”
“They are. I have two pairs. You’ll love them. Once we decide on your dress colors, I’ll order a matching pair in your sizes.”
I opened my mouth to ask how much they would cost, but Willow cut me off.
“Billed to the men, of course. You’re representing Common Gin, and I’m told the owner has deep pockets.”
“Oh, he does. In fact, charge double for making us go through this torture,” Lia insisted.
I laughed, pulling my jumper over my head and stepping onto the platform that Willow had indicated. She approached, a pencil behind her ear and tape measure in hand, and I held my arms out when indicated. All told, it was relatively painless, even though I felt a bit awkward when she wrapped the tape measure over my bust. I knew she was only doing her job, and she wanted to make sure the dress didn’t fall off me.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Willow nodded for me to step down, all while jotting notes in her book.
“Nope, you’re right, pretty painless.”
“I’m the one who should be moaning, having to make two dresses on such short notice,” Willow grumbled, pointing for Lia to climb onto the platform.
“That’s why I said charge him extra. Three times for making us go,” Lia complained as she climbed up.
“Speaking of…what’s up with you and Finlay?” Willow asked, glancing at me, and I jumped, surprised at her question.
“What do you mean?”