Page 60 of All the Wrong Places

“Heather said she ran into the two of you last week and that you barely acknowledged her. I told her she must be exaggerating, that her aunt would never be that rude…”

“No,” Joan said. “She wasn’t exaggerating.”

Bev looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

“Look,” Joan said. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. None of this is your fault, and neither one of us likes to see our daughters hurting. So, can we just leave it at that and agree not to discuss it further?”

Bev nodded, a weak smile playing with her bright red lips. “I see someone’s been shopping,” she said after several seconds, her voice tentative, her eyes wary.

“Thought I’d buy a new dress for the party. That is, if you still want us there. Believe me, I’d understand if you…”Please say you don’t want us there.

“Of course we want you there,” Bev said immediately. “Ted would be devastated if you weren’t at his party. You know how fond he is of both you and Paige.”

It was true. Her brother-in-law had always adored his niece, often proclaiming that he was sure there’d been a mix-up at the hospital and that Paige, not Heather, was really his offspring. And Michael and his wife would be flying in from New Jersey for the festivities, so how could Joan and Paige not be there?

“Can I see?” Bev pointed at the shopping bags.

“Actually, I’m returning these. I may be a while…” Joan glanced around the brightly lit space for a salesperson, spotting an exceptionally handsome young man lingering in the next aisle. “Please don’t let me keep you.”

“Oh, you’re not keeping me. Looks like we had the same idea. Heather wants a new dress for the party, too, and I offered to treat her.”

Joan tried not to blanch at the renewed mention of her niece. “She’s meeting you?” She raised her hand in the air and snapped her fingers in the direction of the handsome young man. “Excuse me. Could you help me here, please?”

“With pleasure,” he said, approaching. “Except I don’t work here.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I saw you standing there and I thought…”

“No problem,” he said, touching her arm before leaving her side.

That was odd, Joan thought, his touch lingering. She wondered how long he’d been hovering, if he’d been eavesdropping on her conversation with Bev.Don’t be silly,she admonished herself with her next breath. Why on earth would a gorgeous young man be interested in the conversation of two old ladies?

A salesman approached. He was wearing a black jacket that was at least two sizes too small for his already shockingly slender frame, and his skinny black pants ended at mid-calf, highlighting clean-shaven legs and bare feet inside pointed, black suede loafers. His blue-black hair was long on one side and shaved on the other. Clearly a fashion statement of some sort, Joan thought, forgetting about the gorgeous young man and trying to picture what the salesman’s haircut would look like on her. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice pinched, his accent unrecognizable.

“I’d like to return these dresses.” Joan began pulling them out of the bags.

“All of them?”

“Yes. All five. I bought them on Saturday.”

“Was there something wrong with them?”

“They just didn’t look right.”

“Pity,” he said, taking the bags from her hands and heading toward the nearest counter, Joan and Bev following.

“This is a nice one,” Bev said as the salesman started removing the dresses from the bags. She held up a teal-blue cocktail dress with a jeweled collar. “I would have thought it suited you.”

“Too high-waisted,” Joan said.

“And this one?” Bev ran her hand across a black sheath with a scooped neck.

“Too low-cut.”

“But what on earth were you thinking with this one?” Bev’s long, thin nose crinkled in disapproval as she examined a blush-pink dress with rows of ruffles crisscrossing the bodice.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought the ruffles would be flattering.”

“On a twelve-year-old, maybe. Oh, God. This one’s even worse.” She held up, then quickly dropped, a floral print A-line midi to the counter. “Looks like something we wore back in the sixties.”

---