Page 58 of Love Her

“Oh please, you aren’t a child, call me Charla. How’s Loretta? I heard she was sick.”

By heard she actually means heard. Could’ve been at the market or the diner. Regardless, word spreads like wildfire around Lexington when anything new happens.

“Dad said she’s better after sleeping and taking more medicine. You know my mom; she’ll be back here tomorrow come hell or highwater. Now are you here to check up on me or do some shopping?”

“Charla, what do you think of this?” a woman asks from behind a rack. I follow the sound and see a beautiful blonde woman holding up a dress. I recognize her from around town. Dakota Jennings. I heard she just remarried. Heard. Dammit I’m just like everyone else.

“You could wear a potato sack and that husband of yours would love it. I think it’s a little boring, how about you, dear?”

When there isn’t a response, I turn my attention from the display of scarves I’m messing with and the two women staring at me. Dakota’s eyes are wide, pleading with me to save her. The wrap dress is a classic and the shade of red will look great on her. Instead of saying that, I step forward and offer her a smile.

“Oh my, where are my manners. Dakota, honey do you know Felicity? Her mama owns this wonderful establishment but is home ill. Felicity is a doll and covering for her. Now, what do you think of this dress?”

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” I say in greeting.

Dakota is polite and kind enough not to call me out on my poor behavior she’s experienced in the past and simply greets me with, “Hi.” Moving to the floor length mirror on the wall. Holding the side out, she sways from side to side.

“Maybe if I know the occasion I can be of more help.”

“I’m receiving an award for women in business.”

“So, are you going professional or—”

Sighing, Dakota slips the hanger back onto the rack. “The invitation said cocktail.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

Directing Dakota to the dressing room, I start pulling a few of the dressier options my mom carries. There aren’t too many, but I also saw a few separates that I think will work perfectly for her. For the next thirty minutes, she slips in and out of dresses. When she groans in frustration, I pull the two pieces that aren’t exactly a traditional dress, but I think they’ll be perfect for her.

Knocking on the door I wait for her to open it a crack. “If you’re willing to step outside the box a little, I have two pieces that will go together.”

“What can it hurt?” Extending her hand, she takes the hangers from me and says, “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“I have a good feeling about this. Tuck the top into the waistband of the skirt, which should rest on your upper waist. And, I’m guessing we’re about the same shoe size. These will work perfectly.”

Her eyes widen along with her smile. I had a feeling she’d love it. Leaving Dakota to get dressed, I meander around the store. Charla approaches and rests her hand on my shoulder.

“I hate to do this, but I need to skedaddle. Will you tell Dakota I left to pick up her girls?”

“Of course.”

“Good to see you, honey. You look happy.”

Hearing that from Mrs. Larson makes me feel different than it did with Clementine. With my daughter it felt more about how things have changed in our lives not just me. The words from someone who knows me in a different light feel more prideful.

“Felicity, I don’t know what you do for a living, but you’ve missed your calling. This is perfect. I love the colors and don’t feel self-conscious.”

Moving behind Dakota as she takes in her appearance, I adjust the shoulders of the cream lace top that she tucked perfectly into the blush colored tulle skirt. Losing myself in the moment, I lift her hair up off her neck and smile at her reflection.

“You look beautiful.”

“Grant and I married last year. Where were you when I needed a dress for that day?”

She laughs before turning to me and pulling me into an embrace. The move stuns me and I stand stock-still. When she pulls back, the grin on her face is infectious.

I take the discarded dresses from her and move to the counter while she changes. It isn’t long before she joins me with the clothes and shoes, the smile on her face is still intact. Thankfully, Dakota is patient with me as I slowly process her payment. I’m even more grateful for the fact that she doesn’t hug me again. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that little tidbit as she exits the store, leaving me alone.

The door chimes as she leaves and then immediately after. Assuming she forgot something, I turn to greet her except it isn’t her. No, I couldn’t be that lucky. I’d welcome ten more hugs from her instead of what I find.

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