caught the light and deepened as she moved the dress this way and that.
Oh, I really hope it fits , Maggie thought a minute later, as she pulled it over her head in the dressing room and drew up the side zipper. For a minute she didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to know. And then she did.
Amazing how something inside her could still feel like a little-girl-princess every so often when the right dress or the right guy came along. Not that I’ve met anything close to the right guy in years . She turned toward the mirror. To be honest, she hadn’t had time for romance since she opened her business. Nor had she really had the heart, not when every guy she met reminded her of the one she’d given away. And who could match up with a memory?
“Wow.” Even with the messy bun atop her head and the familiar, freckled road map along her bare arms, Maggie almost didn’t recognize herself. On the hanger, the dress was beautiful. On her, draped to her toes and fitting in all the right places, it became something breathtaking. Maybe Cinderella will make an appearance tonight after all .
Bev appeared behind her, and the look on her face matched Maggie’s thoughts. “It’s perfect.”
And it was.
“I’ll be the only one there in green,” she hedged as she smoothed the fabric with calloused hands.
“So?” The woman curled a lip, as if black were out of vogue this season.
“Okay, then, this is it. Thanks, Bev.”
“It’s my pleasure. I owe you, anyway. My profits went up fifty percent after your redesign last summer.”
Fifteen minutes later, with the dress over one arm and a brand new pair of three-inch heels in the crook of the other, Maggie headed back out into the rain. This time, she vowed to take a different route home, to avoid the medical center and any lingering memories it might call up. Hopping into her Honda, she turned on the radio and searched for a good, loud rock song to drown out the chatter inside her head.
Thick white plastic in the backseat, hiding a gown. A fuzzy memory of a stepbrother she’d once adored. A heavy heart, squeezed tight with nerves and anticipation. Her world now seemed to focus on those three things and nothing more. Maggie swallowed and fought back growing fear. Never before had the ticking of the clock held quite as much meaning, quite as much power, to change the rest of her life.
4:00 p.m.
Jack’s cell phone buzzed, and he raised a finger to stop Suzie, who was in the middle of giving him the latest calendar updates.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, big bro. You busy?”
Taz . Jack smiled and spun in his chair. “Always.” He eyed the stacks of paper on his desk and the file folders in his secretary’s lap. “It’s okay, though. I can take a minute. So you’re back in town? Where are you staying?”
“At the house.”
Jack nodded. He avoided his childhood home in Wellesley as much as he could, but then he had other places to sleep at night, places that didn’t conjure up memories of loss and sadness. Taz didn’t, unless you counted that jalopy he drove around. Jack didn’t. Taz might.
“How was Honduras?” He stared at the rain.
“Rough. Lotta people need a lotta help down there. I’m going back in the fall.”
Jack wasn’t surprised. The bleeding heart of the family, Taz had a way of seeking out the strays, the weak, and the sick. He and Mom had that in common . Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, Jack wondered what Taz was up to in the meantime. Why the midday telephone call? The four brothers usually only contacted each other around the holidays, after downing too many glasses of eggnog. Never in the summer. Never at work. He set his teeth and waited.
“So, listen,” Taz went on. “I’m setting up a memorial for next week. At the house. Just a few people, plus family. Dad hasn’t committed yet, but I figure he’ll agree to it if you and I push hard enough.”
Memorial? What the hell are you talking about?
Suddenly all the memories
Oh, I really hope it fits , Maggie thought a minute later, as she pulled it over her head in the dressing room and drew up the side zipper. For a minute she didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to know. And then she did.
Amazing how something inside her could still feel like a little-girl-princess every so often when the right dress or the right guy came along. Not that I’ve met anything close to the right guy in years . She turned toward the mirror. To be honest, she hadn’t had time for romance since she opened her business. Nor had she really had the heart, not when every guy she met reminded her of the one she’d given away. And who could match up with a memory?
“Wow.” Even with the messy bun atop her head and the familiar, freckled road map along her bare arms, Maggie almost didn’t recognize herself. On the hanger, the dress was beautiful. On her, draped to her toes and fitting in all the right places, it became something breathtaking. Maybe Cinderella will make an appearance tonight after all .
Bev appeared behind her, and the look on her face matched Maggie’s thoughts. “It’s perfect.”
And it was.
“I’ll be the only one there in green,” she hedged as she smoothed the fabric with calloused hands.
“So?” The woman curled a lip, as if black were out of vogue this season.
“Okay, then, this is it. Thanks, Bev.”
“It’s my pleasure. I owe you, anyway. My profits went up fifty percent after your redesign last summer.”
Fifteen minutes later, with the dress over one arm and a brand new pair of three-inch heels in the crook of the other, Maggie headed back out into the rain. This time, she vowed to take a different route home, to avoid the medical center and any lingering memories it might call up. Hopping into her Honda, she turned on the radio and searched for a good, loud rock song to drown out the chatter inside her head.
Thick white plastic in the backseat, hiding a gown. A fuzzy memory of a stepbrother she’d once adored. A heavy heart, squeezed tight with nerves and anticipation. Her world now seemed to focus on those three things and nothing more. Maggie swallowed and fought back growing fear. Never before had the ticking of the clock held quite as much meaning, quite as much power, to change the rest of her life.
4:00 p.m.
Jack’s cell phone buzzed, and he raised a finger to stop Suzie, who was in the middle of giving him the latest calendar updates.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, big bro. You busy?”
Taz . Jack smiled and spun in his chair. “Always.” He eyed the stacks of paper on his desk and the file folders in his secretary’s lap. “It’s okay, though. I can take a minute. So you’re back in town? Where are you staying?”
“At the house.”
Jack nodded. He avoided his childhood home in Wellesley as much as he could, but then he had other places to sleep at night, places that didn’t conjure up memories of loss and sadness. Taz didn’t, unless you counted that jalopy he drove around. Jack didn’t. Taz might.
“How was Honduras?” He stared at the rain.
“Rough. Lotta people need a lotta help down there. I’m going back in the fall.”
Jack wasn’t surprised. The bleeding heart of the family, Taz had a way of seeking out the strays, the weak, and the sick. He and Mom had that in common . Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, Jack wondered what Taz was up to in the meantime. Why the midday telephone call? The four brothers usually only contacted each other around the holidays, after downing too many glasses of eggnog. Never in the summer. Never at work. He set his teeth and waited.
“So, listen,” Taz went on. “I’m setting up a memorial for next week. At the house. Just a few people, plus family. Dad hasn’t committed yet, but I figure he’ll agree to it if you and I push hard enough.”
Memorial? What the hell are you talking about?
Suddenly all the memories
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