Chapter Four

It could have been a business dinner.

Ty supposed that in a way, it was.

Funny that he didn’t feel as calm about it as he did for business meetings. He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted the conversation to sparkle. But mostly, he wanted to watch Amy without any distractions.

Since Amy couldn’t go home to change, he didn’t either. She was wearing the same navy skirt and white blouse as at lunch, along with a plain jacket and the dreaded loafers. Her hair was still up and her glasses were still on, her large bag slung over her shoulder and her raincoat over her arm. She smiled with less radiance than the day before when she strode toward him in the building lobby.

Ty wanted to do injury to Mrs. Murphy.

Instead, he lifted Amy’s raincoat from her arm and held it for her. She hesitated, then smiled and turned around.

“Dreading dinner?” he asked.

“No!” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Why would you think that?”

“You don’t seem as happy as before.”

“I should be, to be leaving that place for the day,” she said with heat. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. I’ve been up late a lot this week.”

“Me, too. We’ll make it an early night,” he said, claiming her elbow and guiding her to the door. He felt her start a little, and realized that she wasn’t used to a man touching her, even in such socially acceptable ways.

By her own accounting, she’d spent seven or eight years providing palliative care to her parents, then working at a crap job ever since. Ty was pretty sure that Amy Thornton hadn’t had a lot of fun since she abandoned college.

He wanted to give her some.

More than some.

They’d start with a good meal.

The restaurant was a favorite of his, a little bistro with an open kitchen and an awesome chef. It was dark and romantic, lit by candles even at this hour, and not anywhere near as busy as it would be by nine. They were given the table he favored, the one tucked out of view that he found more intimate, and their coats were taken away.

Amy ran an admiring hand over the banquette when she sat down. “It’s really nice,” she said in a small voice that told him a lot. “I thought we’d go somewhere more casual.”

“First date for our story,” Ty said. “They know I wouldn’t take a woman who interested me out for burgers and fries. I need to get back on familiar ground and tell the truth about everything again.”

“Everything?” she challenged with a bright glance and he knew where she was going.

“Everything.”

“Even the fake date?”

“That might have been the reason I talked to you this week, but I noticed you before,” Ty said, wanting her to understand that this wasn’t just about convenience. “And now I wish I’d done it sooner. How’s that for truth?”

Amy blushed a little. “Why me?”

“Because you read.” It was true.

Her eyes sparkled. “But you didn’t know what I read.”

“No. I assumed you were reading Jane Austen.”

Amy laughed. “What if you’d known the truth?”

“Wouldn’t have mattered.” He shook a finger at her. “If I’d known you were going to tell me off, though, I’d definitely have talked to you sooner. I really enjoy our lunch conversations and that’s no lie.” Their gazes met for one of those sizzling moments.

Amy smiled at him, clearly pleased, then picked up the menu. He knew the moment she noticed the prices and spoke before she could open her mouth to protest.

“I like this place, and the way I see it, it’s been a heck of a week. You’ve been fixing copiers and I’ve been run ragged by a couple of clients. I think we both deserve a reward just for surviving it.”

She blinked. “You had a bad week?”

“Not bad, exactly, but it was hectic,” Ty admitted. “Some of our clients can be demanding, and when more than one of them goes into that mode, it can be a bit frantic.”

“And then there’s your mom.”

“And then there’s my mom,” Ty agreed. Did she miss her mom? He couldn’t imagine otherwise. There was a little bit of sadness in her eyes, and once again, he was determined to make her smile. “Red or white?”

“I like either,” she admitted then considered the menu. “But red is better with steak.”

Ty nodded agreement, then ordered a bottle of a Cabernet Sauvignon.

Once again, Amy looked like she might argue, but he leaned over the table and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’ll make it easier for us to get to know each other,” he said. “And you’re not taking the train home.” He lifted a finger. “Cab service is part of the deal.”

“You’re not driving me home.”

“I am paying the cab fare.” He arched a brow. “And I’ll make sure you get in the cab, too.”

She sat back and regarded him mutinously. “You’re bossy.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he teased and she blushed a little. “Look, it’s what I would do for any one of my sisters. You alone on a subway at night?” He shuddered. “I’d be sick with worry.”

“I doubt that!”

“Believe it.”

Amy heaved a sigh of concession, but her eyes were starting to sparkle. “Normally, I’d say no, but today, thank you.” When she looked so pleased and relieved, Ty knew he could get used to spoiling her a little bit.

She was past due.

The wine came and he tasted it, then it was poured. Amy asked the waiter a couple of questions about the options on the menu, then they ordered. Ty liked that she wasn’t indecisive and she didn’t request a lot of changes. On the one hand, she seemed to be pretty easy-going and to make do with whatever she got. That was an admirable trait. On the other hand, he thought she could have expected a bit more from life, and he wished he could help her to reach a little higher.

He didn’t believe for a minute that her current job was the best she could do, but Amy did believe it. He was going to find a solution that suited Amy better by the time Katelyn and Jared left for their honeymoon.

Ty had four weeks and a day to make a difference in Amy’s life.

He figured it was fair exchange for her going to the wedding with him and saving him from his matchmaking relations. It wasn’t possible for her relations to hold a candle to his in that department.

“All right,” Amy said, pulling a notepad from her purse. She held up four fingers, mimicking his gesture from their first lunch. “Family summary from Tyler McKay. You have four sisters, three married and one about to be, one a year for three years.”

“You have a good memory,” he said, a little surprised that she’d remembered all of that.

Amy held his gaze, confident that was true. “It’s my gift.”

“I think you have more than one,” Ty said, then held up a finger before she could argue. “Lauren. Oldest daughter, next after me, probably my favorite sister.”

“Are you allowed to have a favorite?” Amy pretended to be horrified and he grinned.

“Only if you don’t tell the others.”

Amy crossed her heart and Ty chuckled.

“She’s thirty, married three years ago to Mark.” He tried to hide his dislike of Mark and wondered whether he succeeded. “She’s a hairdresser uptown, who unravels everyone’s secrets and proposes diplomatic solutions.”

Amy started to make notes. “I can see why you like her. That would be a useful talent in a big family.”

“Absolutely. Then there’s Stephanie, married to Trevor last spring. She’s twenty-eight and finishing grad school. He’s a lawyer.”

“Are they in town, too?”

“No, they’re in Boston and will be coming down the week before the wedding to stay with my parents.”

“Where?” Amy asked, taking notes.

“Connecticut. My parents moved out there before they started a family and still go to the same church.”

She peeked up at him and he really wanted to lift off those glasses. “Episcopalian?”

“Good guess,” Ty said and they shared a smile.

“Sister number three?”

“Paige, married two years ago to Derek who has his own construction company in Brooklyn. She does his books, and they had a son last November. Ethan.”

“First grandchild for your parents?”

“Yes, but we’re way behind. My mom’s sister, Teresa, has nine grandchildren already. One is better than none, but my sisters have to lift their game.”

Amy’s eyes danced. “But not you?”

Ty winced. “I try to deflect all discussion about the heir to the throne.”

“You’re going to fail soon.”

“You might have to take some of the friendly fire on that. Any defenses?”

She mused and he watched, fascinated, as she tapped her pen and considered the question. “Well, I can’t claim that I have too demanding of a job.”

“Maybe you’re going back to school,” Ty dared to suggest.

Amy’s eyes lit for a moment, then she shook her head. “I can’t lie, even if this is a fake date. I’ll think of something else.”

“Maybe you just need to not be taking care of anybody for a while,” Ty suggested gently.

Her gaze flicked to his. “But then I wouldn’t be thinking about getting married, would I?”

“That’s not what marriage is about!” Ty protested. “It’s about supporting each other and being stronger together. It’s not about the woman becoming unpaid staff for the guy.”

Amy pointed her pen at him. “That’s why I like you,” she said and for a moment he forgot that she was talking about their scheme. “Nice guys are more likely to help with the dishes.”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Ty said, feeling as if he was being slammed.

“No, it’s not. It’s safe and predictable and a sign of mutual respect.” Amy wrinkled her nose. “Every woman’s dream.”

Ty stifled his annoyance. He’d never thought that being nice was a bad thing before.

On another day, he might see humor in Amy’s conclusion that he was safe and predictable, which was what he’d thought about her before that first conversation. On this day, he wanted more from her.

“Sister number four?” she invited.

“Katelyn, the bride-to-be. Jared is an artist, doing pretty well for himself. Big paintings I don’t understand. Lots of black.” Amy giggled at that. “They live in a loft in Soho and my mother is happy they’re making it legal.”

“What does Katelyn do?”

“She makes jewelry. I don’t understand it either.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…unexpected.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Amy said and he knew she was laughing at him. He didn’t mind at all. “And the helpful aunties? You’ve only mentioned one.”

“Teresa is my mom’s big sister.”

“The one with all the grandkids?”

Ty nodded. “And there’s Maureen, my mom’s baby sister. Her daughter Maxine is unmarried.” He sighed. “Someone will mention the toilet paper incident. It was Maxine, last year at Stephanie’s wedding. She came back to the dance floor with it trailing from her shoe. My sisters are pretty merciless in teasing her about it.”

“Because she’s been merciless to them in the past?”

Ty had to think about it. “You know, I guess she was, especially when we were kids. She’s the same age as me and kind of lorded it over my sisters.”

“That’ll do it,” Amy said, as if she understood the situation really well.

“Observer of human nature.”

“That’s me.”

Ty had another sip of wine. “My mom is Colleen and has always been a homemaker.”

“Five kids would have kept her busy.”

“My dad, Jeffrey, is a retired investment banker who pretty much lets Mom steer the course while he works on his golf game. Forty or so years married.”

“You don’t know?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“You can’t fool me,” Amy said and made a note. “You’re detail-oriented and a lousy liar.”

Ty was startled that she’d noticed. “Bad traits?”

“Excellent ones.”

“Be warned that there will be garden club ladies and church ladies and an entire social network in attendance. My mom was organizing long before the first engagement in the family.”

“Big wedding then.”

Ty nodded, a little bit weary of it all.

“Not your plan?” Amy asked.

“After four years of this, I think elopements have a certain appeal.”

“Family weddings can be fun.” Amy shook the pen at him. “And what kind of only son would you be if you disappointed your mom? Not a nice one.”

Ty was giving serious consideration to developing some not-nice traits. “One down,” he said instead. “Your turn.”

The salads came then. His mother would have no quibbles with Amy’s elegant table manners. Ty hadn’t thought about it until she picked up her knife and fork.

She took a few bites, then had a sip of wine, clearly mustering her words. “My parents, as I told you, are both dead. My aunt Natalie is one of my dad’s sisters.”

“Which one?” Ty asked, then arched a brow. “Order matters.”

Amy grinned. “Second of three. My dad was the big brother.”

“Familiar territory, then.”

“Aunt Natalie and Uncle Tom live in New Jersey. He’s an electrician and she runs their two lighting stores. My grandfather started the business and passed it on to Tom. They have only one daughter, Brittany.”

“Who’s getting married.”

“On June third.” Amy winced and looked adorable. “An enormous wedding. I can’t begin to tell you how much work it’s been getting everything organized…”

“Wait a minute,” Ty said. “That sounds like you’re the one organizing it.”

“Well, no, not exactly.” Amy shrugged. “But my aunt is working full time and my cousin works at the store, too.”

“You work, too.”

“But I have a crummy job. Their jobs are demanding…”

Ty put down his fork. “You go ahead and explain to me how you can say Mrs. Murphy isn’t demanding.”

“It’s not the same.” Amy leaned closer to explain. “And when they organize things, it’s never right. I end up having to fix everything anyhow, so it’s easier if I take care of it in the first place.”

“It must be a lot easier for them,” Ty couldn’t help but note. He sounded grumpy and protective and he knew it, but he couldn’t bite his tongue. It seemed that her family was taking advantage of her kindness and he didn’t like it one bit.

Amy gave him a look that he knew meant trouble. “I’m just helping out. It’s what families do for each other.”

“Like the way they’re helping you keep your house,” he observed.

Amy flushed because the point hit home. “It’s not the same…”

“No, it’s not the same. The house is something that’s important to you, but not to them.”

“Well, my dad was estranged from his family,” she admitted. “My grandparents didn’t approve of my mother, but my dad loved her and married her. They didn’t speak to him after that.”

“They must have helped out when he was sick.”

Amy shook her head.

“Come to the funeral?”

She shook her head again. “My aunt phoned about a year ago.”

But Amy’s dad had passed away a few years ago. Ty bristled. “Because?”

“Well, eventually she mentioned that she and Brittany could use some help with the wedding.”

Ty was outraged. “How much time have you spent organizing this wedding?”

“I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Do it anyway,” he commanded.

Amy gave him an impish look. “You’re being bossy again.”

“It happens when I’m pissed off. I don’t like seeing people take advantage of other people.” Ty gave her a hard look. “Nice people don’t do that.”

“Well, they’re family.”

“And it would have been nice if they’d remembered that a little sooner.”

Amy leaned across the table, her expression earnest. “You can’t say anything about this at the wedding. You just can’t.”

Ty glowered at her. “Depends how they treat you. I just might.”

“Ty!”

“How much time?” He demanded, biting off the words.

Amy eyed him for a minute, then nodded. “Okay. Easily ten hours a week on the phone for a few months, plus going out to New Jersey to look at locations and meet with caterers and florists and other people. I’d have to add it up.”

“So, you were Brittany’s wedding planner.”

“I’m her maid of honor.”

“Trust me. Most maids of honor just show up for the dress fitting and the rehearsal party. They create work, in my experience, because they don’t like anything that doesn’t make them look fabulous even though they’re not the star of the day.”

“That’s mean.”

Ty took a sip of wine. “Maybe I’m not so nice after all.”

Amy considered him for a long moment, long enough that he wondered what she saw, then picked at her salad. “Well, I was just trying to help.” She looked a little bit lost, and Ty could imagine how anyone might respond to the chance to be involved in a family function once all the family she had known was gone.

He still didn’t like it, but it wasn’t Amy’s fault. “Fair enough,” he said more gently. “But wedding planners are expensive. They should pay you for taking on all of this responsibility.”

Amy laughed. “That’ll never happen.”

“Maybe I’ll ask for you,” he threatened and her eyes went round.

“You wouldn’t! Not at the wedding!”

“I might, if I like them as little as I think I’m going to.”

Amy seized her glass of wine and took a big sip. “Maybe this fake date isn’t such a good idea after all.”

“On the contrary, it’s a great idea. We’re going to have a fabulous time, so fabulous that they’ll all be insanely jealous of you. Do you know how to foxtrot? We’ll tear up the floor and leave them all drooling in envy.” He toasted her.

Amy giggled. “You’re wicked.”

“I’m trying.” Their gazes locked and held for a potent moment and Ty felt more than admiration for the woman opposite him. “What color are the dresses?”

All the color left Amy’s cheeks, then she winced. “Tangerine,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

“Ouch. Raspberry is one thing. Seafoam is another. But tangerine?” Ty shook his head as if burdened by the truth of it. “In this situation, I think it’s only fair to go for blood,” he said so solemnly that Amy laughed out loud.

“You’re terrible!”

“No. I have it on very good authority that I’m nice.”

She laughed harder then and he couldn’t look away from the mischief in her eyes. He leaned closer, intent on prolonging her laughter, but someone cleared her throat beside him.

Dinner couldn’t have come at a worse time, in Ty’s view. With any luck, he’d be able to pick up where he left off.

But it wasn’t dinner. Ty smelled a waft of a perfume he’d almost forgotten right before he heard a voice he’d never expected to hear again. That was when he knew he had no luck at all.

“Ty-lair! How wonderful to see you once again! And with another leetle seester. How charmant to dine en famille.”

Giselle.

Shit.

* * *

Little sister.

That was exactly how Amy felt when she looked up at the woman who spoke to Tyler.

That woman was sleek. Beautiful. All lithe curves and effortless style.

And French, too.

Her little black dress looked simple, but Amy was enough of her mother’s daughter that she wasn’t fooled. It had the sophistication that only exquisitely made clothes from a big designer could have. It must have cost a bomb.

The woman’s make-up was flawless; her lips ruddy and full; her dark eyes hinted at intimate sensual secrets to be revealed—by invitation only. She moved with grace and elegance, but there was a little bit of viper in her gaze when it swept over Amy.

Then her attention fixed on Tyler and she smiled.

Wait. Another little sister. Could this be Giselle? If so, Amy couldn’t imagine why Tyler wasn’t seeing her anymore. She looked…perfect.

Amy felt plainer than dirt.

Ty stood up and made introductions. It was Giselle. That woman seized the opportunity to kiss Ty on both cheeks, then run a proprietary hand down the lapel of his suit jacket. Her smile issued several hundred simultaneous invitations, and Amy wished she could just disappear.

She realized belatedly that Ty was trying to end the conversation, asking after Giselle’s companions at the other table and urging her politely back in their direction. Finally, Giselle gave a little fingertip wave and blew him a kiss, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she returned to her friends.

Three women, all just as gorgeous, and two men.

An odd mix.

“Flight crew,” Ty muttered as he sat down. “I thought she’d never leave.” He took a large sip of wine that was so obviously meant to be restorative that Amy might have smiled under other circumstances.

If she hadn’t felt quite so much like a little sister.

The waiter brought their dinners, which looked wonderful. Amy didn’t have as much appetite as before.

Ty, of course, noticed her hesitation to eat. He was attentive, and she appreciated it.

“I didn’t plan that,” he said with concern, his gaze searching. “I didn’t know she’d be here. I haven’t seen her in months.”

“Since your grandmother’s eightieth birthday party.”

“Our one and only date. Big mistake. I’ve learned my lesson.” Ty indicated the dinner she hadn’t touched. “Is your steak cooked the way you like it?”

Amy took a bite and nodded. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He smiled, at ease again. “Where were we?”

Amy wasn’t ready to tell him more about herself just yet. “So, your whole family met her?”

“Pretty much. Briefly.” Ty’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”

Amy had already pushed her notebook aside, but now she put it back in her purse. “I don’t think this is going to work at all.” She eyed her dinner then averted her gaze. She felt a bit sick.

Ty beckoned to the waiter. That man took the plates and offered to wrap up the leftovers. Amy nodded that she’d take hers.

“I hate to see such delicious food wasted,” she said and the waiter smiled.

She was aware that Ty watched her the whole time. When the waiter left, he leaned across the table and caught her hand in his. “Why not?”

Amy took a deep breath and pulled her hand away. Her throat was tight. She didn’t want to answer him but she knew she had to. She swallowed. “They’ll never believe that you picked me over her. Or even me after her.”

There. She’d said it.

“Why?” Ty asked. “Because you’re smart and funny and cute, and she’s none of the above?”

“Ty!”

He lifted a hand. “You’re nice. I’m officially nice. They’ll believe that we’re together.”

“No, they won’t.”

His voice hardened in a very sexy way and he fixed her with an intent look that made her shiver. “Then we have to make them believe it, don’t we?”

There were moments when Ty didn’t seem like such a nice big-brother kind of guy. When he gave her a simmering look or his voice dropped low or he became resolute, it was easy to imagine him as a hot book boyfried—even though Amy knew it was just an illusion.

“I don’t think it can be done,” she protested. “I don’t think that anyone sane would imagine that you with all your advantages would choose me.” She shrugged. “I just don’t.”

Ty averted his gaze for a moment, but not in the direction of Giselle and her friends. He drummed his fingers once, then looked back at her so abruptly that Amy jumped. His eyes were vividly green. “I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that they will.”

“What?”

“A hundred bucks to you if you can convince my family that you and I belong together.”

“I’m not going to bet on this…”

“Why not?” A daring gleam lit his eyes. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“I will if you take the opposite side and try to undermine it.”

“Not me. I’m a believer. We might not have met the right way, but we should have. This is about you believing it enough to convince them.” Ty leaned back then, spinning the stem of the wine glass between his finger and thumb, and Amy again felt a rush of desire. He looked dangerous. Confident. In control. Used to getting his way.

That realization made her sit up straighter.

“I won’t lose. You’ll lose.”

“Then take the bet.”

“I don’t have a hundred dollars to waste on a silly bet.”

Ty smiled. “Then you’d better win, Amy,” he purred.

And in that moment, with that challenge in his expression and that husky catch in his voice, Ty convinced Amy to not only try, but to give it all she had.

“All right,” she said and offered her hand. “All right! You’re on.”

His smile was quick and genuine, and the warmth of his hand around hers was enough to keep her awake all night. Amy wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gotten herself into—or how big of a part the wine had played in her impulsive agreement—but she was determined to do her best to convince his family that their fake date was real.

She was in the cab heading home when she realized Tyler McKay was proving to be a little more naughty than she’d imagined.

Was he really doing it for her?

* * *

Ty watched the cab disappear into the evening traffic with satisfaction.

Amy didn’t even realize the change in her posture after she took the bet. She didn’t know how much he’d already built her confidence, and he’d barely started. He liked making sure that the good guys got whatever they deserved, and Amy had been served short too many times. No matter how long their fake relationship lasted, he was going to leave a lasting impression in her life.

He’d change her view and her expectations. He’d teach her to expect more, and maybe manage to ensure that she got it sometimes. It was enough of a noble pursuit to encourage him to whistle as he walked home.

Ty didn’t know where Amy lived.

He still didn’t have her phone number.

He didn’t have one good way of reaching her over the weekend—except by showing up for the class in bondage she’d registered for at F5.

There was absolutely no way Ty was going to miss that.

* * *

Fitzwilliam’s sixth sense about Amy’s arrivals and departures was stronger than usual. She heard him mewling from behind the door even as she was fitting her key into the lock.

The cab driver waited until she had the door open, then gave a little honk. Amy waved and he drove off. She felt a bit pampered, first with Ty insisting on hailing the cab and paying for it, then the driver making sure that she was okay before he left. Ty had probably told him to do that.

Amy smiled at his protectiveness. It would be easy to get used to having someone like Ty in her life, but Amy wasn’t going to rely on him. That would only make their inevitable parting more difficult.

She already thought it might not be easy.

Fitzwilliam rubbed against her legs with such enthusiasm that he nearly tripped her. He was yowling and talking to her all the way down the hall to the kitchen, giving her a lecture in Maine Coon that Amy was sure had a lot to do with the little box she was carrying. She put it down on the kitchen counter then went to hang up her raincoat and kick off her loafers. She cast her jacket across the back of a kitchen chair and smiled to find Fitzwilliam on the counter, perched beside the box. He straightened regally, wrapped his tail around himself and stared at her in obvious expectation.

“I left you kibble. I knew I’d be late.”

Fitzwilliam emitted a mew of complaint, which effectively communicated his opinion of kibble. Amy saw that the contents of his dish were untouched. “For an abandoned cat who was eating garbage a year and a half ago, you’ve gotten pretty picky.”

He audibly agreed and sniffed the edge of the box. His eyes glowed when he met her gaze again and the end of his tail flicked.

“All right, you can have a piece. But not all of it. This is going to be my dinner tomorrow.” Amy got out her kitchen scissors and opened the box. Fitzwilliam sat a little taller in his enthusiasm. She snipped off a piece of meat, holding it in her fingers as she put the box in the fridge with the rest. Then she returned to the cat’s side and snipped the chunk of medium rare beef into smaller morsels. She fed them to him one at a time.

“He’s really nice, Fitzwilliam,” she admitted, talking to the cat as she always did. “Even if I do feel a bit like I’m another one of his sisters, an honorary fifth. Giselle nailed that.” She sighed and frowned, then said the thing that was bothering her. “I really don’t want to disappoint him. It’s nice that he believes his family will think we’re really dating, but I don’t believe it.”

She gave Fitzwilliam the last piece of meat and it rapidly disappeared. The cat licked her fingertips, then began to groom himself.

Amy washed the scissors and put them away. “I could back out, but I don’t want to.” She pursed her lips and admitted another unwelcome truth. “It might be mean of me, but I want to see Aunt Natalie’s face when I show up to Brittany’s wedding with Ty.”

Fitzwilliam leaped from the counter and surveyed the kibble in his dish. He hunkered down and began to eat it, one piece at a time.

Amy looked down at her skirt, hearing Giselle’s “leetle sister” comment again. Was she really that sexless? Maybe so. It had been a while since she’d bothered much with her appearance. There had been so many other, more important worries.

But Ty had noticed her, even so. The realization was encouraging.

“All these sensible clothes and sensible shoes, Fitzwilliam. Mama would be disgusted. She always dressed so beautifully, no matter how little money they had. I wish I could sew like she did…”

Amy fell silent and stared at the cat.

Fitzwilliam stared back.

“Why didn’t I think of that before?” Amy whispered, then got the key and hurried up the stairs. Fitzwilliam abandoned the pleasures of kibble and padded after her with obvious curiosity.

The house was a small Victorian, the oddball on the block. The one room in the attic had been a closet and dressing room for Amy’s mom and was still filled with her clothes, purses, and shoes. Amy hadn’t been able to think about cleaning it out.

Her mom had been a talented dressmaker. She’d sewn clothes for a number of regular customers, and in the course of shopping for them, found bargains at fabric stores for herself. Her taste ran to couturier clothes and she had the skill to replicate them. Amy had known she wouldn’t get any money for her mother’s clothes, as beautiful as they were, plus she couldn’t bear to part with them.

The closet effectively hadn’t been touched, not since Amy had chosen a dress for her mother to be buried in. She’d tucked plastic over the clothes and ensured the roof didn’t leak on them, but hadn’t really had the heart to spend time in the room, much less examine its contents.

Amy turned on the light and, as always, took a deep breath. She hadn’t closed the door behind herself, so Fitzwilliam had followed her up the stairs. He’d never been in this room, so he prowled the perimeter, investigating.

The scent of her mother’s favorite perfume still lingered. Amy buried her nose in a blouse, tears springing to her eyes at her mother’s familiar scent. It was fainter, but she could still discern it. She eased aside plastic then ran her fingertips over the suits, silk and tweed and wool, then the blouses, silk and cotton. The shoes were on a rack to one side, and there was a full-length mirror at the end of the room. She smiled, remembering pinning a hem for her mother as she turned in front of this very mirror. How many times had her mother fitted a dress for Amy right on this spot?

Amy considered herself in the mirror. She was maybe an inch taller than her mother had been, but the shape of her body was similar. She was a little thinner, and she knew her feet were a size bigger. Her mom’s hair had been darkest brown, and her eyes had been nearly as dark. Amy shared her mom’s creamy complexion though her coloring was lighter, thanks to her father. She eyed the racks of clothes. She couldn’t wear the red that her mother had favored. Could she wear black to a wedding or shower? Amy thought not.

She remembered her mom telling her that she could wear green, if it was the right green, and reached for a suit jacket in a green and gold bouclé. It was her mother’s mock-Chanel suit, perfectly lined and trimmed.

Amy tried it on. Her mother would have said that the sleeves were a whisper too short but no one else would have noticed. It fit beautifully through the shoulders. Her mom must have made it in the late 80’s but Amy liked that it looked a bit retro. Like she shopped in vintage stores. Amy chucked off her skirt and tried on the skirt that matched the jacket. It was slim and just barely covered her knees.

The suit looked so glamorous that she found herself twirling in front of the mirror. Her mom had also made a second skirt in a solid green that was flared a little bit more. There were three blouses that coordinated, and Amy tried on all the combinations with rising excitement.

But a suit at a summer wedding?

No. Amy needed a floaty dress.

Maybe a hat.

She remembered a dress that her mom had made for a wedding and quickly found it on the other side of the closet. It was in one of the fabric garment bags that her mother had sewn for her most treasured dresses. A larger garment bag hung beside it but Amy knew which dress had pride of place, and she wasn’t going to look at her mom’s wedding dress yet.

Amy opened the bag with the summer dress and caught her breath in wonder. Her memory hadn’t done it justice. She’d definitely forgotten how pretty the fabric was. Rose petals of a dozen hues of pink were scattered over the silk chiffon, seeming to cluster at the hem. She knew that the fabric had been a border print, and that her mom had spent a lot of time planning how to cut it to get the effect she wanted. She remembered how the dress seemed to float—or her mother seemed to float while wearing it—because the fabric was so light. It had little sleeves and tiny buttons that were shaped like rose buds. Her mom had even made a silk slip to match.

Could she wear this color? Amy hung the dress beside the mirror and wondered. Her mom had had a hat to go with this. She dug in the hat boxes and found the broad-brimmed hat with the cluster of pink roses on one side. She tried that on and decided it was perfect.

“Mama would know immediately if it was a good color for me.” She fingered the hem of the dress. “I’ll have to look at it in the daylight, Fitzwilliam,” she told the cat. He cleaned his paw. “But I’ll need shoes, even if it works. And I think it’s too much for the shower on Sunday.”

Amy surveyed the contents of the closet. Her mom had loved to dress up, so there were simple blouses and skirts for working at home, and glamorous garb for going out, and not much in between. She went through the rack of dresses again, peeking inside the garment bags, only to confirm that all the other options were either black or red.

This one or another solution. Amy closed her eyes for a moment and hoped that daylight proved she could wear the pink, then put the hat back and ushered Fitzwilliam out of the closet. She returned to the kitchen and yawned mightily. Between her week of late nights and the wine, she was ready to drop. And she had a class the next day, back downtown.

There was no way she could write any more tonight.

But she thought of Ty, arguing that she was being taken for granted and smiled at how resolute he’d been in her defense. She was meeting him at the office on Sunday at noon, and just thinking about him convinced her that she would definitely have sweet dreams.

She wasn’t going to let him down.