Page 4 of Dress Rescue
She’s right. Sara’s already gone well out of her way to help me. And she really didn’t have to. But I can’t see any other solution.
“What if I pay you?” I say.
“I don’t have anyone to cover me, Ellis. We’re a small, family business.”
“Five hundred dollars,” I say.
There’s silence on the other end of the line. I know I’ve piqued her interest.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“A thousand dollars!” I say. “I’m begging you, Sara. I know I don’t really know you. We only met today. But you’d be totally saving my life. I’d owe you big time.”
I pace up and down the room. Waiting for her reply.
Seconds feel like hours. The suspense is killing me. But I don’t want to push her too hard. Scare her away.
“A thousand dollars?” she says. “You’ll pay me a thousand dollars to drive to this warehouse and help you get this prom dress for your daughter?”
“I’ll even throw in food,” I say. “A nice meal. Anywhere you like.”
Sara laughs. It’s like music to my ears.
“Okay, fine,” she says. “You have yourself a deal.”
“Yes!” I jump up and down and pump my fist in the air. I’m not sure what I’m more excited about, getting the dress for Tammy, or spending the whole day trapped in a car with Sara. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. First thing after I drop off Tammy at school. You’ll be ready?”
“You’ll bring coffee?” she asks.
“Baby,” I say, “I’ll bring anything you want.”
3
Sara
By the time we pull up outside the warehouse, my back is killing me and my bum has been numb for at least an hour.
Ellis steps out of his truck and stretches. “On the way back, I chose the music,” he says.
“Hey!” I laugh. “You got something against Celine Dion?”
“I didn’t,” he says, “until now.”
I shake my head and try not to make eye contact. It may have been a long drive. But I’ve loved every minute of spending time with Ellis. The more I get to know him the more I like him. He’s funny and caring and interested in the things I have to say. And the way he looks at me. Almost makes me forget my sister’s warning. That he’s out of my league.
“Sara?” Betsy, the owner, and manager of DeFontaigne Dresses steps out into the parking lot. Her wrinkled old hand shielding her eyes from the sun. “Is that you?”
“Hey, Betsy!” I smile and wave and walk towards her. Ellis follows close behind. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. The moment of truth. He’s been doing a pretty good job of hiding it, but I can tell he’s nervous as hell. “Sorry we’re late.”
“You almost missed me,” Betsy says. “I was just about to go and have my dinner and then get ready for bed.”
It’s literally three o’clock in the afternoon. Old people are a trip.
“The drive took longer than we expected.”
She nods her head knowingly. Looking at Ellis like he’s the second coming of Hitler. “Men these days,” she says, “They may have big muscles and handsome smiles. But they’re all a bunch of pussies. I bet this one was probably driving along at twenty miles an hour the whole way. Shitting himself some asshole in a police uniform would pull him over and give him a fine.”
Ellis’s jaw practically hits the floor. I told him Betsy was mean. But I didn’t tell him about the mouth on her.
