Page 16 of Waiting for Devon
“I just came from seeing my sister. Thank you for what you did for her.” Reed hesitated as his eyes met hers. “I’m relieved Blair has someone to confide in.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I will gladly do whatever I can for Blair.”
Reed made no reply as he continued down the steps and disappeared from sight.
Devon let out her breath. The moment her gaze settled on Reed’s rugged face and his incredible eyes all thoughts about leaving fled her mind. In their place images of being in his strong arms and his mouth moving against hers danced across her vision.
Early the following morning Devon dressed in a short denim skirt with a pink sleeveless blouse. As she brushed her hair, Mrs. Peters rapped on her bedroom door.
“Miss Devon!” she called. “Are you awake?”
“What is it?” Devon asked as she admitted the older woman into the room.
“Will you please check on Blair? She didn’t look well at all when I brought her a cup of coffee a little while ago.”
“Of course, Mrs. Peters.”
When Devon entered Blair’s room, she observed the younger woman’s pale face and trembling hands as she held a coffee mug. “How do you feel this morning? I imagine you have a whanging headache.”
“I’ve had better mornings,” Blair admitted in a weak voice.
“Perhaps we should cancel our shopping trip. Lincoln can drive me to the nearest mall where I’m sure I can find something nice at one of the chain stores.”
Blair looked aghast. “You’ve got to be kidding, Devon. Anything less than an original designer gown will not do. As soon as I take a shower, I know I’ll feel as bright as a spring day.”
“All right. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Mrs. Peters said everyone else has eaten and left the house.”
Thirty minutes later Blair joined Devon and Mrs. Peters, who was busy setting plates of scrambled eggs, country ham, and biscuits on the table. She appeared much better with a little makeup to disguise the circles beneath her eyes, but Devon still hesitated.
“Blair, are you sure you want to…?”
“Absolutely,” she interrupted with a smile. “I don’t want to spend another minute in this house. A shopping spree is just what I need.”
“Me, too.” Devon grinned. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to spend money.”
“It’s even better when it’s not your own.” Blair laughed.
“What do you mean? Of course, I’ll be spending my own money.”
“Not today, Dr. Brooks. Everything is on Daddy.”
“Blair, really,” Devon protested. “I don’t want…”
“Shane would insist if he were here to argue with you,” she countered. “Besides, I don’t think you could afford the kind of gowns we’ll be needing. Oh…I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all,” Devon replied as she shot Blair a droll look.
It seemed silly for them to take the limousine, but Blair insisted they travel in style to Dallas. Lincoln drove them to Beaumont’s, an upscale department store that catered to the rich and famous. A valet opened the car door and helped them out of the backseat. After she told Lincoln she would text him when they were ready to leave, Blair led Devon into the luxurious department store where the youngest Barrington was greeted by name, and many of the sales associates rushed to be of service to her.
Blair chose to keep Devon’s identity a secret as they made their way to the third floor where the expensive evening gowns were kept almost in seclusion. Usually, they were shown one by one to prospective customers, and meticulous records were entered into a computer to avoid women wearing duplicate gowns to the same function. To do so would be a social catastrophe.
Only one sales associate had been granted the privilege of waiting on Blair Barrington. Helen Swanson had been with the company for thirty years. She was well-known for giving Blair’s mother the sense of style and grace she’d brought to every social occasion. Today, Helen considered it an honor to serve Mrs. Barrington’s beautiful daughter.
After they exchanged warm greetings, Blair trusted Helen with Devon’s identity. “Oh, you are a beautiful brunette,” Helen complimented Devon. “With your skin tone, hair, and eyes, you can wear any color.”
“Devon must have the most elegant gown to wear, for she will be the center of attention,” Blair explained.
“I agree, absolutely. What a pleasure it will be to garb a new generation of Barrington women.” She signaled a younger saleswoman and ordered with authority, “Bring out our latest collection of evening gowns by Donna Karan.”
