The opening titles of The Band Wagon still rang out when Jayne opened the door to her apartment for us. “You’re here! You made it!” She looked over my shoulder at William in surprise. “And you brought a friend.”
From the corner of my eye I saw William lift the dessert box. “And the friend brought cheesecake,” he said.
Jayne’s jaw literally dropped. “You’re really welcome. Come on in! It looks like it’s drizzling outside.” She stepped back to allow us to enter. “William, right? Do you remember everyone?” She took a moment to repeat everyone’s names. William nodded and responded in a very friendly, pleasant manner.
I was amazed.
Gemma wasn’t the least bit put out that William brought cheesecake. In fact, she was first in line for a slice herself, saying how much the creaminess of the cheesecake complemented the cheese and polenta stuffed baby red peppers.
When it came time to actually watch the movie, Kim and Joely moved off the couch to make room for Will and me. Which meant we were sitting quite close together.
Will didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything, but I knew my face was beet red. I sat and ate my slice of cheesecake, trying to pay attention to Fred Astaire’s hoofing around an arcade rather than the fact that I could feel Will’s arm against mine.
“I had a good time,” Will said as he walked me up the steps to my apartment. “Your friends can sure eat a lot of cheesecake.”
“That they can,” I agreed, retrieving my keys from my pocket. “Thanks for coming and watching the movie with us.”
Will shrugged. “It was a good movie. We should do it again sometime. You’re still on for tomorrow, right? Because you should be there to help present the plate.”
I smiled. “I’ll be there.”
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty—does that work for you?”
“It does,” I said, my mind racing. I still hadn’t decided what to wear.
We waved goodbye and I stepped into my apartment.
I was still alone. Livy wouldn’t return from her missions conference until Sunday afternoon. I sighed and took my coat off. It was late—the clock read 11:34. Despite the hour, I had work to do. The ambulance bill from the stupid accident was tucked away in my desk. There were many, many quilt pieces to cut before I could start the piecework. Despite my sagging eyelids, I turned on the coffeepot and went in search of my scissors.
Saturday morning arrived too early. My eyes felt as if they had coffee grounds rubbed into them. I stumbled down from my bed, waddled into the bathroom, and surveyed the damage in the mirror.
Bags under my eyes. Icky, dehydrated skin. I started wishing for home—no mirrors. Wood walls kept excellent secrets.
Following a suggestion I’d remembered Meg talking about, I dampened a washcloth with very hot water and laid it over my face for a few moments before giving my face a good rub with the terrycloth.
In the kitchen, I cracked an egg and separated the white from the yolk. The yolk I put back in the fridge to be used in scrambled eggs later. The white I slathered onto my face, cold and slimy, all over my cheeks and just under my eyes. I let it dry and then stepped into the shower.
As good as the hot water felt, I didn’t have time to linger. I washed the egg from my face and lathered my hair with shampoo. Afterward I slathered on the moisturizer and examined my face again, gratified to see that my skin looked refreshed and I almost looked rested.
I dressed without putting much thought into my outfit. I had food in the house, so there was no reason to dress to make a good impression until the evening. After all, it would just be me and the fabric.
The hours passed quickly. I had the place to myself, so I began to lay my quilt pieces out on the floor half an inch apart.
I tried cutting on the floor, but my legs cramped up. I moved to the couch until my back got sore and my stomach started to make anarchistic noises.
Livy’s wall clock read 1:30. I stretched and cobbled a lunch together before returning to work, this time at the tiny dining room table.
At four o’clock I switched projects, shifting to the garment that was due Monday. In a moment of whimsy after completing the hem, I decided to pull out my needle and thread and revisit my embroidery skills. I found a lightly contrasting thread and a passage from an Emily Dickinson poem and embroidered the passage onto the hem. From afar, it looked like an interesting color detail. From close up, it was a tiny but legible line of poetry.
I liked the idea of a garment containing a secret.
The skirt had pockets, and I decided to do the same along the edge of the pocket openings. I loved the look. But it was completely time consuming—after an hour, I’d completed only half of the hem work. With a jolt, I realized I might want to start thinking about what I’d wear to Will’s mother’s birthday party.
I examined the contents of my wardrobe. With the weather the way it was, I didn’t relish the idea of wearing heels. Boots would protect both my legs and my toes. But my green wool pencil skirt wasn’t festive enough. I’d already worn my good blue silk dress to the Blythes’ residence. My selection of dressy clothes was limited.
I called Gemma and explained the problem. “That is tricky,” she agreed. “What about that periwinkle blouse with the peplum?”
I chewed on my lip, thinking. “I usually wear that with dark jeans.”
“I can bring a few pieces over, but you’re more petite than I am. I’ve got a skirt…Listen, I’ll just be over in a little bit, okay?”
I pulled out the periwinkle blouse while I waited for Gemma’s arrival. It buttoned down the front and had narrow tucks down the bodice. The peplum hit right at my waist, making it appear even smaller. The capped sleeves were short and puffy with a little blue pearl button on each side.
Looking at the blouse, I realized I could dress it up with a sash at the waist. Taking the blouse with me, I dug through my ribbon bin. At the bottom I found a wide black satin ribbon, just long enough to tie around my waist and still have enough left to leave nice tails on a bow.
I tugged off my thermal knit shirt and tried on the look in the mirror. With a little work, I got the bow the size I wanted, deciding it would probably lay better if I pressed it. Though how to press it presented a problem. But if I tugged the sash until it was roomier, turned it, and made a snip down the back…
Perfect. I hemmed each raw edge of the ribbon where I’d cut it and sewed on two sets of hooks and eyes so I could reattach the sash.
Gemma’s knock sounded just as I finished pressing the bow. I hooked it quickly around my waist before opening the door.
“Look at you!” She said as she walked in. “Glad the blouse is what’s working out for you, because I brought you stuff to coordinate with it.” She set the garment bag of clothes down on the couch. “I know there’s not tons of time, but I thought my black satin pencil skirt could work for you. It’s short on me, so if it fits you can keep it. My younger sister wouldn’t be caught dead in something that won’t twirl, so it’s up for grabs. And if that works, I thought you might want a sweater over it. I know you’ve got a black cardigan, but I thought this might be fun too.”
I watched as she unfolded a sweater that looked like it might float away of its own accord. “What is it?”
“Mohair and silk. I close it with a shawl pin, so I figured fit wouldn’t be as much of an issue because you can just pin it tighter. And if the sleeves are long, you can roll them up and it’ll look like a cuff. Though personally, I think very long sleeves are very pretty and old-fashioned looking as long as the torso fits properly. I also thought the periwinkle would show through the knit really prettily.”
I tried on both pieces to discover Gemma was absolutely right. The skirt fit perfectly, falling just below my knee. The peplum of the blouse flared over the skirt just right, and the sweater was surprisingly warm considering how airy it was. I pinned the sweater just under my bust so the sash on the blouse could be seen. As a final touch, I added the blue crystal necklace I’d worn for Christmas.
“That looks amazing.” Gemma crossed her arms as she looked over the ensemble. “I thought it would work, but I had no idea it would look that good. When does Will come to pick you up?”
“Six thirty,” I answered.
“Well, that’s swiftly approaching. I’ll take off. Let me know how it goes, okay?”
I gave her a hug. “Thank you for coming over. You’re like my personal fairy godmother.”
Gemma laughed and hugged me back. “You’re welcome. I’m happy to share—it validates the size of my closet.”
I walked her to the door and waved goodbye.
Now that I was dressed, I headed to the bathroom to finish my hair and makeup. I touched up the makeup I’d applied earlier in the day, adding a shimmery neutral shadow and blush. I carefully lined my lips with a light pink lip liner and then applied a cheery red lipstick with a lip brush, blotting at the end so the pigment wouldn’t wind up traveling to my teeth or chin.
I added a bit of eyeliner to my eyes while the curling iron heated. Once it was hot, I curled the ends of my hair, including the shorter top layers, in different directions to create a tousled, curly look. The strands weren’t as short as they had been a few months ago. I supposed it was probably time to get it trimmed, though the concept was foreign to me. I knew Gemma and Meg got their hair trimmed every six weeks to the day. Maybe I needed to at least consider doing the same.
I gave my hair a good coat of hair spray, but I was realistic. I knew there was a high likelihood it would go flat the moment a bit of damp air touched it. At least it would look cute for ten minutes or so. I was optimistic and hoped it might last half of the evening.
I stood back to take in the complete look. I had to admit, I loved it.
There was a brusque knock at the door. I jumped and stopped my vain primping. And took a deep breath.
Meredith Blythe’s “small” family gathering consisted of her husband Kip, Will’s brother Carter, Carter’s girlfriend Allison, and a smattering of aunts, uncles, and cousins whose names I couldn’t remember.
Meredith greeted Will and me at the door. “Sara! So glad you could make it! You look lovely—let me take your coat for you. William, thank you for bringing her.”
I shot a quick glance at Will. He gave a rueful smile. Meredith sounded happier to see me than Will, but it didn’t seem to bother him. We followed her inside to a table in the entryway that seemed to be allocated for gifts. Will put his own gift with the others.
This type of family gathering should have been familiar to me. After all, I’d been raised in a large family. This was different though. Shinier. Harder. Less sincere.
Will stuck close throughout the evening. He hadn’t said much since he’d arrived to pick me up, other than to tell me that I looked very nice. I must have looked better than that though because he couldn’t seem to stop looking at me.
Meredith was usually nearby as well, asking questions about how my studies were going and how I was enjoying Portland. Will had explained I’d recently moved to the area.
A buffet was laid out. In the corner I could see a fondant-covered cake with a small flowering dogwood tree growing from the center.
Built-in bookshelves held hundreds of framed photos of friends and family. Will and Carter as babies, Will and Carter as toddlers dressed in miniature tuxedos, Carter wielding a tennis racket, Will…
That couldn’t be right. I picked up the picture in question. “Um, what’s this?”
Admittedly, both Will and I had been doing our fair share of blushing lately. This particular flush might have been the brightest. He snatched the frame from my hands. “That shouldn’t be out.”
“But it…”
“Forget about it.”
I crossed my arms. “It looked like you. As a kid. Ice skating, wearing a special suit. With your arms in the air and a medal around your neck. So I know what it looks like, but I wondered if you had any input in case it’s not you twirling on ice, wearing a full-body leotard.”
“My mom had me doing it, okay? It was exercise, and I didn’t like soccer, and the local swimming pool made me break out into a rash.”
“You ice skated competitively.”
“I…did.”
“Okay, just so I’ve got it straight.” I turned my attention to my plate. “Do you like the meatballs?”
“How do you know about ice skating anyway?”
“I caught Cutting Edge on TV earlier this week. And Jayne’s secretly a fan.”
“Does it change how you think of me?”
I shook my head. “I suppose you have a better sense of balance than I thought. But otherwise, no.”
He chuckled. I took the picture from his hands and replaced it on the shelf.
After everyone had finished eating, we gathered in the formal living room. The gifts were waiting, having magically moved from the entryway to a glass-topped coffee table in the center of the room. Kip handed his wife each gift, and Meredith began to open them while everyone looked on.
She received earrings from Kip and a cookbook from Carter. Allison provided a small box with a hand-beaded crystal bracelet. When Meredith came to the flat box containing the glass plate, she gave Will a smile of excitement that even I could tell was feigned.
Poor Meredith. She probably had a stack of books on string theory from Will that she’d never read. As much as I liked Will and had difficulty understanding his family, there was no excuse for ill-chosen presents, not for an immediate family member.
As Meredith lifted the lid and brushed away the protective tissue paper though, her face changed. “Oh, my goodness! It’s beautiful!” She lifted it from the box, inspecting it closer from the front and back. “I love the colors! Honey, look,” she presented it to Kip, who gave a nod of approval. “I know exactly where I’ll put it too—oh, but as a serving plate…” She turned it over on its back again. “This is Cyprus Glass—that’s a really good glass-maker. They’re out of Louisiana. Remember, honey, when we visited their headquarters? Just beautiful.” She pressed the plate to her breastbone. “I love it! Thank you, William!”
I turned just in time to see the look of surprised wonder on William’s face.