“Do you have shoes?”
“Shit. No.” There was no way I’d be able to squeeze my feet into any of Tara’s shoes, either.
“I’ll borrow something from my mom.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
“See you soon!” She hung up.
*****
Graham was in the shower when Tara arrived. “Look at this dress!” she said, holding it up in front of me. “You’ll look great in it.”
The dress was a dark sapphire blue, and it had a vintage, 50s look, with capped sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flowing skirt that would probably stop right above my knees.
“Wow,” I said, taking the dress from her and letting the silky fabric run through my fingers, “it’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours!”
“You’re sure you don’t want it?”
Tara shook her head. “No. I mean, it’s gorgeous, but like I said—way too long on me! It’ll be perfect for you. And, to go along with it ...”
She held out a pai
r of bright pink pumps with at least a 3-inch heel. “These will go perfectly!” She handed me the shoes.
“No,” I said, catching sight of the label. I tried to hand them back. “There is no way in hell I am wearing a pair of your mother’s Manolo Blahniks!” Even I had seen enough episodes of Sex and the City to know that there is was no way in hell a girl like me should be wearing shoes like that. “Tara, these were probably a thousand dollars!”
She waved me off. “So what? My mom probably has half a dozen pairs of them. And they’ll go perfectly with that dress! You will look amazing.”
“I can’t. They’re your mom’s.”
“And you guys have the same size feet. She’s only worn them like once.”
“Exactly! I can’t wear them.”
Tara sighed. “I told her I was giving you this dress to wear out to lunch at the yacht club. Then she asked me what you were wearing with it, and I said, knowing you, probably nothing because you didn’t have any jewelry. She said that was too bad. And then she asked what shoes. And I jokingly said you were going to wear flip-flops, and you know my mom, she immediately went over to her closet and dug these out and said you had to wear them, because they’d go perfectly. You need the pop of color to go with the dark blue.”
I probably would not have taken the shoes if I had anything else even remotely close to resembling a dress shoe. But I didn’t; all I had were my sandals and a pair of sneakers.
“Go try it on!” Tara said.
“Okay,” I said, clutching the shoes and dress to my chest. “Here goes nothing.”
I went in the bedroom and changed into the dress. I didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that it fit perfectly. The fabric felt silky smooth against my skin. I slipped the shoes on one by one and then stood for a moment, giving myself a chance to get used to the feel. I rarely wore high heels, but I did like the way I felt in these. At least right now I did; a few hours from now, I’d probably be crying in pain.
I made my way slowly out of the bedroom, back to the living room where Tara was waiting. She grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw me.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Holy shit, you look amazing. Where’s a mirror?”
“In the bathroom. Graham’s still in there, though. I think I just heard the shower go off.”
“Well, you need to see how hot you look. And those shoes just make the outfit. What should we do with your hair?”
“I don’t know, I think I was just going to put it up? It doesn’t need to be anything crazy; we’re just going to lunch.”
“Your mom is going to freak when she sees how you good you look.”