The guys had been in earlier—well, three of them. Ian was still a no show, and I forced myself to focus on something else. Radio silence on his part was unusual. The fact Jake, Archie, and Coop avoided mentioning him was also telling. Shake finished, I dropped it off and let the customers know someone else would be looking after them and wished them a great rest of their day.
A couple of minutes later, I weaved past the cooks on the line and headed past the freezer to Marsha’s office. Her door was open, and music spilled out. The familiar country twang was not my first choice, but my boss tended to listen to it while doing paperwork. It kept her relaxed.
Or so she claimed. The tears in my beer and the truck took off with the horse tunes tended to wax and wane between desperately sad and almost painfully upbeat about how awful life was—different strokes for different folks. Better that than focus on the fact the pitiful woman described in the current song could be me.
“Come on in,” Marsha said, pushing her rolling chair back as I slid into the office. She reached around me and hooked the door closed. “Did you grab yourself a drink?”
“I’m good,” I assured her. Seriously, I was more tired than hungry or thirsty. Jake was supposed to meet me later for a date, but he hadn’t mentioned what we were doing, and I was kind of hoping for enough time to make a side trip beforehand—even if I smelled like burgers.
“Well, sit down then,” Marsha said, waving me toward the hardback chair propped next to her desk. The cushion was old vinyl, and there was a split in it from years of use. Weirdly, this was more comforting than the bad music, which she thankfully turned down.
“Okay,” she said after I perched. I still had on my work apron with the order pad and tips in my pockets. It needed to be washed, but I’d deal with that later.
Despite the awkward beginning, Marsha didn’t continue. I raised my brows. “Okay?”
With a smile that creased her cheeks and a half-laugh, she said, “You got a dress last night?”
“Oh, yeah. I did.” I’d mentioned going out the day before.
“Well c’mon, let’s see it.” Enthusiasm churned in every word. I gaped for a second, but she made grabby hand motions, and I laughed.
“Yeah, Coop went with me, and he took a lot of pictures…” Dragging out my phone, I stole a look at Ian’s text thread, it was still dark, no red numbers. Swallowing that lump, I tabbed down to Coop’s thread. There were a couple of quick messages. One was a question about lit and the other was just a randomwhat are you wearinggoogly-eyed emoji text.
Dork.
I scrolled up to find the photos he’d sent and clicked the red dress before I turned it to show Marsha.
“Oh. I love it.” Taking possession of my phone, she blew up a couple of areas to get a look at it. “Did you get shoes? Jewelry? What are your plans for your hair?”
The rapid-fire questions had me gaping all over again. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to get shoes. Cheryl told me a couple of places to go, and one that will dye the shoes to match the shade of the dress, and I guess—I’ve got a couple of necklaces that might work.”
Jewelry really wasn’t my thing.
Eyeing me, Marsha tutted before she handed me the phone back, then reached for a sticky note and scrawled some information. “Go to these shops, they’re over off third near the old downtown. They look like junk shops, trust me when I say they aren’t. They’re vintage stores, and they have some of the best items you’ve ever seen. If you go into Coat Rack…” Apparently, the name of one of the not-junk stores. “Ask for Carol. She has the best eye and knows every piece in her shop. Show her the dress, and she’ll find the most adorable items to accessorize it with.”
Tapping her pen against her lower lip, Marsha considered me.
“If I’m being too nosy, tell me, but let’s talk hair and make-up, do you have a plan for the day?”
The Homecoming game was on the Friday night. The dance was on Saturday. There was a parade that afternoon. It was a huge thing. “Um… I’m working, so I’ll probably go home, shower and throw everything on. It’ll be fine.”
That got me a narrow-eyed look. She added another name and a phone number. “This is Ms. Liz, she’s a dream to work with. You call her and tell her I gave you her number. She’ll get you set right up, my treat.”
“Wait…no, Marsha.”
“Ah.” She held up a hand as she snapped out the syllable. “Let me do this. Homecoming may not seem like a big deal, right now.”
No, it seemed like a huge deal.
“You have a world of experiences in front of you, after high school ends. But when you look back, I don’t want you to have a single regret. Ms. Liz will do all the heavy lifting. She’ll style your hair and do your cosmetics, and you won’t have to worry. You’re alsonotworking that day. In fact, let’s throw a massage in there, too.”
“I’m good,” I assured her. “Really. Massages from people I don’t know just…” A shudder raced through me. There was something kind of squicky about the idea of some stranger putting their hands all over me. No thank you.
“Fine,” Marsha said. “But hair and make-up are still on me.” She tapped her lip again. “I feel like I’m forgetting something, but we have time. Just call her soon, all right? I’ll send a message to expect to hear from you, so she already has you on the schedule.”
Oh, nicely trapped. Now, even if I didn’t want to spend Marsha’s money, I’d have to call or risk making her look bad and wasting her friend’s time.
“I’ll call,” I promised.