Whose mother just booked the best hotel
we have in Manhattan? Yours! Not much
longer now, sweetie!
Sent to my BlackBerry
On Saturday, I walked into the dressing room next to Erin’s at Hargood’s House of Formal Wear, changed out of my jeans, and pulled up Beckett’s last text one more time.
You. Me. Date. 4 p.m.
“Let me see the dresses when you get them on,” Nora called from outside. “This is your last chance to have them altered before next Saturday.”
Sliding up my white dress, I reached around for the zipper and gave it a pull. Staring in the mirror, I looked at the empire waist, how it gathered in an hourglass shape, and I didn’t like what I saw.
In all these things, I am more than victorious . . .
I told myself to focus on the positive. My counselor used to always say negative thoughts were just lies from the devil. Right now it was like he had a bullhorn to my ear. He was also telling me my South Carolina tan was long gone.
I dragged my eyes to the rest of the dress, admiring the way the calf-length skirt billowed when I turned, making me feel like a princess. Maybe one who’d danced in grand balls in the castle that used to sit on the O’Callaghans’ land.
Or one who dated a boy named Beckett Rush.
“Time to model!” Nora had a group of quilters due to check in at the inn today, and I knew she was anxious to get back home.
Erin and I both peeled open our doors at the same time. She hesitantly stepped out and went before the full-length mirror as her mother snapped a picture with her phone.
“Mam!”
“Your father will want to see.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“You look gorgeous, Erin. Just beautiful.” Then Nora turned to me.
As I stood to the side.
Clutching the top of my sagging dress.
“Doesn’t it fit?” Nora asked.
“It’s fine.” I tugged on it and watched the cap sleeves drop at my shoulders.
“Well then, I’ll go and get the seamstress. We can’t have it falling off of you for the dance.”
“Wait—”
But Nora was already gone, running out into the store to get some help.
“You’ve lost weight.” Erin studied me in the mirror. “I thought maybe you had, but now I can really see it.”
Part of me was thrilled with her declaration.
Part of me wondered at the look on Erin’s face.
“It’s just a few pounds. That’s what I wanted.”
That was all I wanted.
“. . . and we think the measurements must’ve been wrong. Or there has been an error in the alterations.” Nora bustled back to the dressing room with a harried-looking employee who wore a tape measure around her neck.
“Step up here, please.” The woman waved me to the mirror.
“It’s fine. I can fix it back home. Wear a shawl.” It sounded dumb even to me, and when the woman and Nora both shook their heads, I knew it was useless to resist. I took to the small platform and let the woman put her tape measure all over me, my cheeks flushing in the mirror.
The woman took one last measurement at my waist, then consulted her job ticket. “It is the exact size I have written down. We did not make a mistake.”
“You’ve lost more than a pound or two,” Nora said. “And you’ve been working much too hard.”
“I don’t feel like I have. I . . . I guess . . . I’ve been running a lot. And I usually put on some weight in the summer, then it falls off when I get back into school. It happens every year. Usually it comes off with cheerleading, but now that I’m here and not doing that, I’m riding my bicycle everywhere and running in the mornings. It’s only natural some weight would fall off.” The words flowed out, one after another.
Nora hesitated, processing my meandering explanation before finally giving a curt nod. “You have been getting a lot of exercise. But you’ve also not been eating properly, so. Do you eat the lunches I pack?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I’m sure my appetite will return.” As soon as I aced the audition, walked every step of my brother’s, got Beatrice off my back, reunited Mrs. Sweeney and her sister, and figured out what Beckett really wanted from me. They didn’t understand. My parents, Nora, Erin—they should try spending five minutes in my shoes.
“It’s quite a bit to take in, but we can fix it,” the seamstress said. “We can have it back to you by next week. It will cost extra.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll pay it.”
“I’m going to check on your shoes,” Nora said. “I’ll be out front.”
“You never eat lunch with us anymore.” Erin looked at me as if I’d somehow disappointed her, as if I were suddenly not quite who she believed me to be.
“I have to see Mrs. Sweeney during lunch so I can get to the set after school. You know that.”
I expected her to agree with me. But she didn’t.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked instead.
My life started spiraling out of control the day my brother died, and I keep trying to stuff everything back in its place, but nothing is staying put. “No. Can’t think of anything.”
“I’d be glad to pray for you. Or just listen if you need someone to talk to.”
“I’m fine. Truly.” My laugh came out a little too loud. “We Americans aren’t used to walking anywhere. Or riding a bicycle. I’ve never been healthier.”
“It’s just . . . at dinner. I see you pushing things around on your plate. Giving Liam your chicken or passing him your dessert.”
“I’m stressed, that’s all. But it will soon be over. The movie’s going to wrap up in a few weeks.” Oh my gosh. Shooting would be done in no time. Then what would become of Beckett and me? Would he just forget me? Never contact me again? What if I really was just his summer fling? An autumn distraction? “So . . . I’ll be fine. Right now I have a lot on my mind.”
“Okay.” Erin didn’t sound quite so convinced. “But if you want to—” She stopped midsentence and craned past me toward the store front. “There’s Patrick Sullivan. He’s here. Getting his tie.” Her cheeks broke out in scarlet splotches. “I can’t go out there.”
“The guy in the green T-shirt?”
She nodded mutely.
“With the ripped jeans?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait! No!”
Clutching my gaping top, I stormed toward Patrick and his friend, following them as they made their way to the men’s section.
“Excuse me, Patrick, is it?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“I’m a friend of Erin O’Callaghan’s.” I saw him pale. “You remember her, right? The girl you agreed to go to the dance with, then suddenly cancelled when Beatrice Plummer got ahold of you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just . . . couldn’t take Erin.”
“Yeah, because you’re a weak-kneed jerk who hurt my friend.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t protest. “I want to know what Beatrice said to you to get you to bail on Erin.”
He looked at his friend, then back to me. “Nothing.”
I took a step forward. “I’m not afraid to make a scene here.”
“Okay, fine!” His cheeks flushed pink. “She told me she could get me a date with Taylor Risdale if I didn’t go to the dance.”
“And did she?”
He suddenly found his shoes very interesting. “Sort of. I got to sit at Taylor’s table one night at the pub. With Bea, her friends, and about ten other guys.”
I cast furious eyes at his friend. “Were you one of them?”
“Yes. But it was worth it. I mean, have you seen Taylor Risdale?”
“Worth it? Patrick, you broke Erin’s heart and ruined your friendship for half an hour and some beef stew with an actress who wouldn’t even remember your name if an Academy Award depended on it.”
Patrick raised his head and looked at me with hound dog eyes. “Basically. But I did get her autograph.”
“Not really the date you thought it would be though, was it?”
“No.”
“You’re being used.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“You could still go with Erin anyway. Two can play at that game, right?” But before I even got my whole sentence out, Patrick and his friend both shook their heads.
“I’m staying out of this,” Patrick said. “I’m done. I’m a happy man.”
“Me too,” said his friend. “Worth every second. I had Taylor sign me chest. I’m gonna get it tattooed.”
“Attractive.” I was so done with this conversation. “Is there any guy at your school Beatrice hasn’t talked to?”
“Maybe Joshua Smith,” Patrick said. “He just transferred here three days ago. Other than that, all fifth and sixth years were promised dates with Taylor.”
“To stay away from Erin. Your friend.” My voice dripped with disgust.
“This movie’s the biggest thing to ever hit Abbeyglen,” Patrick said. “It’s not anything personal against Erin. We just had to take advantage of the opportunity.”
They were numbskulls. All of them.
Except for maybe this Joshua Smith.
Someone I had to talk to.
Before Beatrice got there first.