––––––––
It was early. The city seemed quieter for some reason, peaceful. Emma stared at the blushing metal of the building across the way as the sun climbed tall and proud into the radiant sky. So pretty.
Riley slept beside her, wrapped like a baby marsupial around her legs and she grinned. Life. Everything around her was alive.
Her neck stretched as the heat of the day trespassed through the screen, warm and invigorating. She had things to do, but this seemed more important, so she rested a while longer and took the time to appreciate the splendor of being alive.
Her mind randomly skipped from thought to thought. Riley. Her parents. Rarity. Lexi. Marla. Anna. Her wedding. She wondered if somewhere in the world at that very same moment someone else was thinking of all those things, or perhaps just one. There had to be someone appreciating this beautiful dawn. Then she randomly thought about snowflakes. In the June heat it was tricky to imagine a sky full of white.
Her hand pressed gently to her chest. Nothing. The subtle trace of her fingertips over the remaining muscle faintly tingled, but where her breasts once were... it was numb. It wasn’t so shocking anymore.
Her mind sketched over her journey. It was the longest and shortest six months of her life. Everything changed and she was now unrecognizable compared to the person she once was. Oddly, the most drastic changes happened inside—not to her cells or her blood, but to her soul. How strange to prefer the person she’d become over the person she once was. What a misplaced but gratifying end to suffering.
Her life was like an avalanche, one tiny speck, smaller than a snowflake, and everything she’d depended on had come tumbling down. It almost killed her, but here she was, lazing in bed on a Sunday morning, staring at the sunshine.
She sighed. I’m alive.
A door slammed and she jumped. Riley grumbled in his sleep as a stampede sounded from the kitchen and Marla barked like a maniac.
“Carrots!” Rarity’s voice echoed through the hall. “We have carrots!” The door to her bedroom flew open and Rarity beamed like the proudest Peter Pan. “We. Have. Carrots!”
Emma laughed. “That’s wonderful!”
“Yeah, it is! I’m like a witch. I made food from dirt, eggshells, and seeds.” She did a very uncoordinated victory dance while grunting and wiggling her butt.
“Get out,” Riley groaned.
Rarity stilled. “I’m going to go see what else is sprouting.” With that, she raced out of the loft and back to the roof. Emma giggled.
“We need to move,” Riley groaned into his pillow.
“Stop. You love living here.”
She wasn’t ready to give up their loft. Eventually, they’d do the grown up thing and settle down—possibly in a house—but right now she liked their living situation. Even if it was chaotic at times.
He flopped to his back. “I’m awake now.”
It was her turn to curl into him. She hummed and ran her palm gently over his warm skin. “Oh no...whatever will we do?”
He twisted and pinned her, his hands pressing into her wrists as his arousal prodded her belly. Smirking, his eyes darkened with desire. “Good morning, cakes.”
“Good morning, my love.”
His mouth dropped to her shoulder, nibbling and kissing a trail to her throat. “This is my favorite spot,” he mumbled, voice muffled against her skin.
They rolled around under the covers, giggling and teasing until they were eventually panting and writhing. Despite all her personal hang-ups, she’d found her way back to a place of acceptance where closeness was concerned.
As their bodies stretched together, her nails dug into his shoulders. Breathing through those climactic moments was once again like walking through the rain, soft, peaceful, invigorating, like being reborn.
Once they climbed out of bed and showered, they dedicated the day to online browsing. Rarity was compiling a list of suppliers while Riley was perusing real estate. Emma didn’t have the focus they had so she spent most of her morning perusing shoes, not that she’d be buying any, but it was fun to look.
Her obsession with footwear developed during the early stages of her recovery. Shoes were sexy and her feet sometimes seemed her most feminine asset, despite her hobbit toes, which she still argued were shaped perfectly normal.
Spotting a pop up ad, she gave up her shoe search—like she’d ever wear heels that high anyway—and clicked on the banner sporting a pink ribbon. It was a race, right there in New York. She scanned the details and a fire built in her belly. How cool would it be to be a part of that?
“I want to do this,” Emma said, turning her laptop so Rarity and Riley could see.
Riley looked up from his iPad and squinted at the picture on the screen of her laptop. “A walk?”
“That’s a lot of pink,” Rarity commented.
“It’s a 5K for breast cancer and I want to do it. I think I can.”
Riley reached forward and scrolled down the page. “What do the proceeds go toward? What sort of research and what percentage—”
“Stop.” She pulled the laptop out of his reach and took a breath. “I’m telling you, I want to do this. I don’t care if one percent goes to researching what shade of pink looks best on a miter saw. I’m doing it.”
“There are other races—”
She turned her laptop away from them and navigated her way to the sign up page. She understood some charities donated more than others, but every penny earned was money that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Emma, no one’s telling you not to walk—”
“Yes, you are, Riley.” She kept her eyes on the computer, already typing in her information. “You think if it isn’t distributing funds exactly where you believe they should go then it’s pointless. It’s not. Every cent, even the pennies, counts.”
“I think we’re just frustrated with the exploitation of pink and the lack of advancement,” Rarity defended.
Emma shut her laptop and scowled at them. “I’m pink.”
She wasn’t sure when her opinion of the color changed or why, but she now took offense to outsiders putting down the pink as much as she took offense to corporations abusing the color. What she once criticized she now understood. Despite all the exploitation, there was something intangible behind the pink, a sense of connectedness, and she wanted to embrace that camaraderie.
“You don’t get it,” she explained. “A few months ago I was incapable of walking to the bathroom without help. Today I’m considering miles.” Her eyes moistened and she was taken aback by the passionate satisfaction surging through her battered but strong body.
She smiled. “I want to do this walk because I can. I want to do it for all the people that can’t and I will gladly pay my dues and wear my colors and support the cause because support doesn’t just come in dollars and cents. It comes from here.” Her hand rested on her breast. “I’m proud of the distance I’ve come and all the care my doctors gave me, and I’m thankful for all of you that got me through hell and back when all I wanted to do was stop fighting. I want to celebrate the empowering truth of survival with other survivors and they’re going to be at that race.”
Her head lowered. “I know the system has flaws. I know the treatment isn’t perfect. But something’s working, because I’m here. You can’t improve anything from the outside looking in. So, like I said, I’m going to do this race.”
No one said anything as her words resonated in the silent room. She wasn’t poetic or any sort of brave activist. She was just a girl, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t contribute in some way.
“Sign me up,” Riley quietly said.
“Me too.” Rarity nodded.
Emma smiled. Sometimes it wasn’t about politics or percentages. Sometimes it was just about people. “Thanks, guys.”
****
The morning of the race was sweltering. The three of them rummaged around the kitchen for granola and coffee foraging like sleepy little squirrels. By the time they made it out the door they were only placidly awake.
Emma’s excitement churned at the first pink cone they passed. Streets were marked off and tents were erected. “It’s so cool how they close down roads for this.”
The closer they walked to the registration area the higher her energy climbed. A vibe pulsed with excitement, making her jittery and alert. Ditching the last of her coffee, she scanned the area, wanting to take in the entire experience.
Clusters and pairings of people bedecked in pink clogged the walkways as a ruckus of voices filled the air and microphones squeaked. The first strand of music came from an enormous speaker in the distance, as the recognizably upbeat tune by the band Rusted Root played.
Infused with vitality, she grinned at her friends and bounced to the familiar tune. Rarity rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smirk. The flutes sang as percussions tapped and strangers bounced to the music of Send Me On My Way.
Riley sauntered beside her, bopping his head to the music. He reached for her hand and she stretched for Rarity’s as the three of them, and Marla, found their place in line.
More upbeat music continued to play as the crowd thickened. It was amazing how many people had gathered all for one purpose. Her throat tightened as she had the urge to hug and thank every single person there. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. They just kept coming.
“Emma?”
She turned at the familiar voice and her chest filled with warmth. “Anna?”
“How are you?” her friend asked, taking her into an affectionate hug.
“I’m...great. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She waved off her surprise with a typical Anna grin. “This is my shtick. These are my peeps. See that handsome fellow over there?”
Emma craned her neck, spotting a tattooed hottie waiting in line behind Riley. “Yeah.”
Anna winked. “He’s mine.”
Thrilled for her friend she beamed. “You’re dating!”
“Yes, ma’am. Turns out I’m good at it too. We’re coming up on our two month anniversary.”
“That’s fabulous! We should go out, the four of us.”
Anna tapped her hand. “I see you’ve upgraded.”
Glancing at her engagement ring, another rush of warmth hit her chest. “Yes.” She smiled. “The wedding’s in September. I’d love for you to be there—and your boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Riley’s one of the great ones.”
She glanced at him as he paid for their passes and her heart did a little jig. “He is.”
“Well, I have to get back to my people before I get yelled at for taking off. I have a habit of floating wherever the wind blows. I’ll see you at the finish?”
“Definitely.” She hugged her friend tight.
“Tell Riley I said hi and nice work on the ring. You’re going to be a stunning bride.”
“I will.”
Rarity returned from her search for a porta-potty. “Who was that?”
“That’s my Anna. I love her.”
“The one from the oncologist’s office?”
Emma nodded. “The one and only.”
Riley approached, handing them each a pink shirt. “We’re in. Was that Anna?”
“Yeah, I invited her to the wedding.”
“Awesome. I miss seeing her.” He handed his sister her pink shirt.
Rarity grimaced at the fuchsia T and took a deep breath. “The things I do for you...”
Riley stuffed his arms into the shirt and shoved it over his head. “Oh, shut up and be a girl for once. I don’t know about you, but I look fabulous in pink.”
Rarity grudgingly put on her pink T and Emma—prepared and waiting—snapped a picture. “That’s going online.”
“I hate you,” Rarity grumbled, but smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Let’s do this.”
On their journey to the starting line they were treated to incredible hospitality. People fed them, hydrated them, gave them high fives, colored their hair, and pinned and painted them with pink flair. Even Marla got a pink bandana.
“I look like the Easter Bunny threw up on me,” Rarity laughed.
Emma shook her head. “Admit it. It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not. I think I’m tapping into some deep-seated girl part of me I’ve been repressing since I started playing with Riley’s GI Joe figures.”
“There’s a lady over there giving away oatmeal cookies the size of my face,” Riley interrupted. “We need to get one before they’re all gone.”
Emma glanced at the crowd moving toward the main tent. “But people are lining up.”
“I really need that cookie, Emma!”
She laughed. “Okay. Rarity, we’ll meet you down there,” she called as he dragged her toward the big cookie. He was so happy once he had it in his hands and the jerk only gave her a teeny, tiny bite.
The race started with a flood of bodies moving through the streets of Manhattan like the bulls moving through Spain. Thankfully, the pace was much slower.
Men, women, seniors, pets, and children all walked and chatted. By the end of the first mile Emma had shared bits of her story with a few new friends and heard parts of their stories as well.
Organizers cheered them on and music played throughout. The mood never lulled. Rest stops were positioned at various intervals and water was distributed frequently.
As the sun beamed overhead her skin slicked with sweat. Rarity and Riley didn’t seem quite as winded as her, but she was proud to be keeping pace with the others. The humidity was so thick, she had one of those strange moments she appreciated being just past bald, because her old hair would have been a gigantic frizz ball in this weather.
During the second mile, the gods must have taken pity on them. The sun continued to beam overhead, but with the heat came cooling drops of rain. The drizzle didn’t cease until they crossed the third mile. Her clothing was saturated and hanging sloppily from her frame. All the face paint had dribbled into smears, tinting the collars of their shirts.
“We’re almost there,” Riley yelled over the pumping music.
She glanced at Rarity who was wearing an expression of determination and pride, her sprayed pink hair washing down her neck in a trail of sweat and rain. Emma’s heart pinched.
For all of her stubbornness and indifference, Rarity was just as fragile as the rest of them. To Rarity’s way of thinking, she was never very good at being a girl, but that didn’t excuse her from the perils. When it came to this, they were all on the same team.
As the finish came into view, something came over Emma, and she did something she hadn’t done in a year. She ran. Her legs ached and her sneakers squished with every step, but she crossed that line no matter how much she wanted to collapse.
She did it. She made it to the other side.
They were each given medals of achievement. Even Marla got a pin for her collar. As she turned and stared back at the people still finishing, the entire event suddenly took her breath away. Not because she was winded or tired, but because it was absolutely beautiful.
Her throat tightened as she rubbed a hand over her short curls and laughed to herself. Every person that passed—and not a single one frowning—overwhelmed her.
She didn’t care about the blister on her foot anymore than the spectators on the sidelines cared about the rain. The devotion and love was palpable. Her chin trembled as she worked to process such a remarkable sight. So many strangers united to embrace hope. It was simply awesome to be a part of such solidarity after going through something as isolating as cancer.
“I got you a water,” Riley said as he jogged over. “Hey, you okay?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I’m fabulous.” And she was.
Looking at the bottle, she laughed as her fingers easily untwisted the cap, recalling a day when she lacked the strength. That plastic lid was her undoing as she held the suddenly significant cap out to him and smiled through her tears. “I did it.”
“Yeah, you did.” He grinned and pulled her in for a top of the line Riley hug. “You did great, cakes.”
Did he understand? Did he know that a few months ago her mouth had burned like acid and she had to work up the strength to merely ask her mother to open her water bottle? She believed he did. She believed he truly got how monumental this day was for her.
If anyone understood cancer, it was those who loved its victims. Maybe they understood it more than the people suffering. Riley had memories she couldn’t recall, moments when she was too lost to the pain and medication to view reality with lucid accuracy. But he was there through all of it, always by her side.
Her arms tightened around him. “You’re my rock, Riley,” she whispered.
He stilled as if her words triggered something monumental then he tipped his head, his gaze skating to the ground as a smile pulled at his lips. He looked at her, such genuine happiness in his eyes. “I love you, Emma.”
She wasn’t sure why, but it was a significant moment, a moment of clarity and understanding. It was too much to process surrounded by so many people. Clearing her throat, she pulled at her damp curls. “I must look scary.”
“You look beautiful.”
She laughed and wrung out her shirt. His unwavering reassurance was as dependable as rain. No matter what, it would always come. “Where’s your sister?”
He pointed. “She’s making friends.”
Rarity gathered with a group of young women all decked out in pink. Someone gave her a long fuchsia wig as they posed for pictures. She had a feeling her friend would be back the next time a walk came around, pink laces tied in little bows.
“Emma?”
She turned and stepped back as her system took a shock, the muscles in her face going instantly numb. “Becket?” Wow, she hadn’t thought of him in ages. Her gaze drifted to the buildings surrounding them. They’d finished just outside of his complex.
“Your hair...” he glanced at all the people as if just noticing an event was taking place.
She laughed and nervously brushed a hand over her head. “Yeah.” Feeling a bit exposed, she said, “I went short last January.”
“I heard...you were sick.”
“I was, but I’m doing great today.” The longer she looked at him the sillier it seemed to be self-conscious. Who was Becket? He was no more special than anyone else there. “How are you?”
He seemed thrown off by her high spirit. “I’m...the same. Good.”
“Good. How’s Goldie?” The question didn’t hurt like it might have a few months ago.
His attention dropped to her chest and darted back to her face. “Um, Goldie’s good. We’re actually getting married next year.”
She smiled, understanding this other woman was a better match for him than she’d ever been. Besides, she found her perfect match. “I’m glad you’re happy, Becket.”
He looked at her left hand. “You’re engaged.”
“Yup. We say ‘I do’ in two months.”
“Wow.” He stared at her like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Had he always viewed her that way?
“You seem so happy,” he observed.
“I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Becket.” They turned as Goldie, with her familiar tinted tan and platinum blonde hair, approached. She was indeed pretty. Emma could admire her beauty without deducting points from her own esteem now.
“I don’t believe we’ve been officially introduced. I’m Emma. This is my fiancé, Riley.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Goldie.”
“Well, we should probably be going,” Becket said, appearing uncomfortable in the presence of both his future wife and ex-fiancée.
“It was nice meeting you,” Goldie smiled, her teeth perfect and white as snow.
“You too. Congrats on the engagement.” Once they disappeared in the crowd she faced Riley. “Wow. I didn’t feel anything when I saw them. I mean nothing. Not anger, jealousy, insecurity. I just...feel happy.”
“That’s awesome, cakes.”
Rarity skipped over and slung her arm over her brother’s shoulders. “Hey, did I just see Becket and Barbie?”
“Yeah.”
“Man,” Rarity shook her head. “I am so glad you dodged that bullet. Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”
They went to lunch at a local pub and overheard the bartender talking about a building in his neighborhood that would likely be torn down because the buyer backed out at the last minute. Riley glommed onto the conversation and asked questions beyond the bartender’s knowledge, so the man made some calls and got Riley the realtor’s phone number.
On the cab ride home, they took a detour past the property. It was in a nice location, but the building was in need of some love and care. As they lay in bed that night, Riley seemed unable to sleep.
“The price was lowered again last week. I don’t think we’ll have an issue getting the sale so long as we want it.”
She nestled into his side. “Did you plan on buying a place that would need that many renovations?”
He shrugged and bit his thumbnail, something he only did when nervous. “I didn’t know what we’d find. I figured wherever we opened we’d have to paint and stuff, but this is a lot more than anything the three of us can do on our own.”
“You could hire a contractor.” He had the money.
“I know. I just want to be smart about our spending.”
“It’s your money, Riley.”
Realizing he was biting his nail, he tucked it under the covers and faced her. “It’s ours. This money’s for us, Em, our future, our family.”
They’d promised not to discuss children until she was past the three-year mark. A lot could happen to survivors during those first couple years of remission. “I think if you want this place you should buy it. This is your dream and I want to see it come true.”
He let out a big breath. “I’m nervous. I don’t know if I can handle all this on my own. I mean, I’m excited for the opportunity, but this is big. Like, after this, I might have to buy a suit for meetings and stuff. I don’t know if I can be that guy.”
Her fingers laced with his. “You just have to be you. You’ve always had a gift for drawing people in, Riley. You’re charismatic and have a talent for putting people at ease. You don’t need to change the way you dress to impress people. Just let them see the real you and they’ll be impressed enough.”
His hand tightened around hers. “Will you come with me tomorrow?”
“Of course. We’re partners.”
He nodded and smiled. “Syrup and pancakes.”
The following day they went to visit what might be their future headquarters. It was exciting and scary.
Riley showed a side of himself she never saw before. Perhaps his business sense came from some funky rich people gene. Every time he asked an important question she’d never think to ask, he impressed her. Aptitude was a very sexy thing.
When they returned home, no one seemed willing to speak first. Lexi was waiting at the loft, anxious to hear how it went. “So... How was it?”
Rarity’s lips pursed around a poorly hidden smirk as she glanced at Emma. Unsure why no one was talking, she looked to Riley, who paced in the kitchen, head down in deep thought. Emma shrugged. “I thought it was great. The building definitely has potential.”
Rarity exhaled. “I totally agree. I loved the exposed ceilings. There’s enough room to make a second floor, like a loft. And there’s an awesome back wing to store overhead.”
They looked at Riley, who paused in his pacing and blinked at them. “What?”
Emma laughed. “Did you like it?”
He bit his thumb. Finally he said, “I think it’s perfect.” They all cheered, fumbling together in an inelegant hug tackle.
“Does that mean we’re buying it?” Rarity asked.
“All that’s missing is the name. I’m going to email the realtor in a few minutes.”
The loft overflowed with exciting energy and they celebrated. Lexi and Rarity prepared a delicious meal and they toasted to their future venture while brainstorming on the perfect name for their operation. Though they were all a bit nervous, it was a magnificent feeling to have a sense of purpose. It was the first time in a long time that Emma allowed herself to look beyond a few months into the future.
Over the passing weeks, Rarity stayed busy gathering information about food and safety laws while looking into various education programs for herself. Emma’s department was the branding and marketing. It was all overwhelming and surreal, but incredibly rewarding each time a decision was made.
One of the hardest decisions was coming up with the perfect name. It had been an ongoing debate, trying to find the perfect title that would encompass all they planned to do.
“Pure Foods,” Riley suggested.
“Too generic and people might not get that we have more than food,” Rarity argued, vetoing another choice.
“Earth to table?” Emma proposed.
“That’s nice, but not perfect.”
They continued brainstorming. “Customers should know it’s more than food and all natural,” Rarity reminded. “We really need to get the point across that everything we sell is for the body and not bad for it. Back to basics, you know? I feel like we’re complicating it and we just need something simple so they know it’s pure.”
“Naked Goods,” Emma said. “Au naturel. No additives.”
They turned to her and both smiled, resembling each other in one of those strange moments she was reminded they were siblings. “That’s great, toots. What do you think, Ri?”
“Who doesn’t love naked?”
Rarity jotted down the name. “Naked Goods. Well, I never thought we’d use sex appeal to sell our products, but it works.”
“Make it good with Naked Goods,” Riley said, pitching his voice like a little jingle. “Labeled to be understood.”
And so it was decided. Their company would be called Naked Goods. The most bizarre moment came on July thirteenth, when they signed the deed for the future Naked Goods.
The place desperately needed work. Everything needed to be removed, replaced, and reborn if they ever wanted customers to venture through their doors—especially if they were in the industry of selling products related to clean living. Riley hired a construction crew and Emma collaborated with an architect that specialized in up-cycling unwanted natural materials. Rarity busied herself with multiple lists of potential suppliers.
It was imperative that their products be completely trustworthy and non-toxic, so there were a lot of back and forth calls and queries. If a company didn’t certify their products organic or GMO free—be it food, cotton, or cosmetic—Naked Goods wasn’t interested.
Things were happening so fast. Her parents often came to sit with Marla so the three of them could road trip out to see nearby farms and get a better understanding for the organic process.
As contracts were signed her nerves jingled with implied responsibility. There was so much to consider, but with every decision came great satisfaction. They were doing something no one else in their local area was doing.
There, of course, were organic aisles and overlooked sections hidden away in most supermarkets. And deep in the hipster sections of the city existed holistic healers and stores specializing in oils and supplements that were otherwise hard to come by. But no one had done what they were doing to the degree they were doing it, all in one place.
They met other people like them and earned incredible support. While corporate companies and pharmaceuticals competed with each other, the people in their circle were more than happy to share ideas and knowledge.
Riley believed if enough people came together there might someday be more stores like theirs. They didn’t care about the competition. It was about the movement, the return to resources they could trust. Emma agreed with him. Exposure and a little knowledge was a very powerful thing.
Naked Goods was green from the solar panels that lit their displays down to the flooring they chose. They carried unprocessed grains, unrefined oils, organic produce, supplements, household supplies, clean cosmetics and personal hygiene products all made from safe and healthy ingredients. The second floor offered an eat-in, green café and sprout bar that doubled as a classroom for Rarity to host events. Emma planned on reasserting her deodorant making skills once the roster of classes was posted.
The backroom was an apothecary of sorts, where customers could order supplies, scenting with preferred essential oils. It wasn’t just a natural store. It was an experience, an education, and was rapidly developing into a thriving community, before their doors even opened.
A portion of every dollar earned would go toward research. Their website offered an exact audit of every penny distributed as well as a detailed rationale of their standards. There was a logical plan for every aspect. And once they had their grand opening, the gears would be put into motion.
“Emma.”
She turned from her laptop as Rarity called her name from the bedroom door. “What’s up?”
Her friend sauntered into her room holding her purse. “You will see here, I have your purse and shoes. Please put them on.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“I feel slightly remiss that—as your maid of honor—I’ve overlooked a minor detail. I’d be more distraught if you—the bride—hadn’t overlooked it as well.”
“What?” She frowned, going over her mental checklist for the wedding. Everything was arranged.
Rarity scoffed. “You’re getting married in less than a month and you don’t have a gown.”
Emma chuckled, trying to ignore the pinch in her chest. It wasn’t that she forgot. She thought about her wedding gown every day, thought about how much her first wedding gown had meant and how beautiful she looked in it, how much she loved that stupid dress—so much so she forgot she was supposed to be in love with the groom.
This time it was more about the guy. She shrugged. “It’s just not that big of a deal to me now. I’ll find something.”
“Um...” Rarity sat on the edge of her desk. “I might be wrong here, but don’t fancy dresses take, like, months to order and then you have to have them trimmed and fitted and stuff. Your wedding’s in three and a half weeks, toots.”
“I know.” The anxiety over wearing a pretty dress with no boobs to fill it made her feel superficial and small, but she didn’t want to explain herself to some snooty seamstress on Park Ave.
“Okay, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m going to need old Emma to come back for a few hours.” She shut her laptop. “We’re going to a little shop in Brooklyn. Put these shoes on. I have Riley’s credit card. He’s treating.”
Knowing Rarity loathed dress shopping, Emma couldn’t help but be impressed by her dedication to her duty as maid of honor. “We could just look online and take it to the seamstress around the corner when it comes in.” That would be less painful.
“Not a chance. I know you, Emma. This is something you’ll look back on with gratitude. You don’t find perfect online. Put on the shoes. We’re not coming home until we’ve located the perfect gown.”
The salon in Brooklyn was small and nothing like the fancy boutique her first gown had come from. The mannequins wore dated wigs and the carpet was a hideous shade of burgundy.
“Who told you about this place?” she mumbled as they scanned the showroom for human life.
“I have people,” Rarity said, stepping to the counter and ringing the antique bell.
An older woman came from a door buried between racks of consignment prom dresses. “May I help you?”
“We need a gown,” Rarity announced.
The woman smiled. “Are you the bride?”
“Not in this life.” She nudged Emma forward. “Emma’s the bride. I’m the maid of honor.”
“Lovely to meet you. I’m Betty.” She seemed to be the only person in the store and quite possibly the owner. Her fine silken hair was silver as a fox and her skin was translucent with age. “Congratulations on your engagement. When’s the wedding?”
She fidgeted with her T-shirt. “September sixteenth.”
“Of this year?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” The woman fiddled with her earring as she took a quick scan of her inventory. “Well then, we have some work to do, don’t we? Come with me.”
Liking her optimism, they followed her deeper into the salon as she explained which style gowns were hung where. “You two take a gander and I’ll be back in a moment.”
When they were alone she glanced at Rarity and snorted. “Seriously, where did you find this place?”
“I buy herbs from the Chinese place around the corner.” She snickered. “I like her. She reminds me of the original Betty Boop.”
They sorted through various gowns, none really sparking any deep affection. Betty returned with a tray of grapes and three glasses of wine. “I hope chardonnay’s okay with you ladies. I’m all out of champagne.”
“Fan-shee,” Rarity complimented in her Sean Connery accent as she took a sip. Betty was definitely creating a memorable experience.
“So,” the woman lightly clapped her hands together. “Did you find anything you like?”
“Not yet.”
She twisted her lips and perused the selection. “Well, you’re going to need off the rack so we should start with your measurements and narrow the choices by size.”
She retrieved a thin measuring tape and Emma asked, “Do you have a seamstress here?”
“That’s me. I do it all, honey.”
For some reason this eased Emma’s stress.
“Let’s get you into a slip and then we’ll take your measurements. Sometimes the best way to find the gown is to try a bunch on first.” She winked and whispered, “I say that about finding the right husband too. Go ahead and get down to your undergarments.”
Breath jaggedly left her lungs as she nodded. Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, she walked behind the screen openly draped with a curtain. There wasn’t much of a changing room. “Is anyone going to come in?”
“You two are my first customers this month, so I doubt it. There’s a bell on the door, so we’ll hear if anyone stops by.”
Rarity sent her a reassuring grin. “It’s just us girls, toots. No need to be self-conscious.”
She nodded.
Betty selected various gowns and hung them on a nearby rack. Emma stepped out of her flip-flops and slid down her shorts. Taking a deep breath, she sluggishly lifted off her shirt.
Carrying back an armful of gowns, Betty said, “Now, some girls like a fuller gown, but September can still be warm—”
She paused, facing Emma’s bare chest and tilted her head, a look of understanding and compassion quickly crossing her crystal blue eyes. Emma’s chest tightened, but Betty barely flinched.
“You look to be about a size eight. We have lots of dresses that size. I think we can find something just perfect. Why don’t you start with this one?”
Exhaling with relief, she took the heavy satin gown and Rarity helped her slide it over her shoulders. “You’re doing great,” she whispered.
The gown hit the floor and zipped up the back. She turned and faced the triad of mirrors. Not a chance. The heavy beading at the chest left the loose material wilted and sad.
“Next!” Rarity called, pulling the zipper down without a second glance.
Betty continued to dive deep into the racks and dig up various gowns of all different cuts and styles. By the tenth gown, Emma was exhausted, frustrated, and in need of another glass of wine. Luckily, Betty was on top of her game and had plenty of Chardonnay.
“I have an idea,” the woman said, as they took a breather, sitting in a pile of white satin and lace, sipping wine. She tapped a painted nail to her chin. “Where did that dress go?”
“What dress?” Rarity asked.
“It’s an older style, from the sixties. A darling little gown. Oh, I could just picture you in it! Let me go look upstairs.”
Betty left and Rarity said, “We might have to go somewhere else.”
“Not today. I’m too tired.” Plus, she really wanted to give Betty her business. The woman was determined to find something that fit and it didn’t seem like her efforts were for the sake of a sale.
Rarity patted her knee. “We’ll find it. Don’t worry.”
Betty returned with a white garment bag in her arms. “Do you believe I found it? I always loved this dress.” She hung the bag on a hook and slowly lowered the zipper.
“It’s short,” Rarity observed.
“That was the style at the time. Women would wear dainty wrist gloves and short lace veils. Back then weddings were more about marrying the man of your dreams, less about the party and pomp.”
Emma stood and touched the delicate fabric. Thin layers of chiffon flowed into a tea length skirt. The top was done in elegant plain lace, covering the shoulders as the actual bodice was cut simplistically straight across the chest. “Can I try it on?”
“I insist on it.” Betty laughed, removing it from the hanger.
She fed the gown over her arms and fluffed the skirts. Emma stood and Rarity handed her a headband. “Try this on.”
“And these.” Betty slid two satin shoes under her feet.
She fit the plain silver band to her curls as Rarity clasped the pearl button at the base of her neck. Taking a deep breath, she turned.
I found it.
Her chest filled as she stared at the charmingly understated beauty in the mirror. Was that her?
“Oh...” Rarity and Betty sighed at once.
She couldn’t take her eyes off her reflection. Her expanders gave her minimal shape, not enough to be mistaken for ordinary breasts, but in this dress, she was perfect. The lines and cut showcased her feminine figure, accentuating her hips and curves while disguising her lack of cleavage. She loved everything about it down to the ladylike way it highlighted her legs.
No other gown, not even the one in her closet at home, had ever made her feel so pretty. “I’ll take it.”
Betty smiled and folded her hands together. “Wonderful!”