Birdie retrieved her carpetbag from the porch. Entering the house, she tried to recall what she’d packed. She’d packed light and in a rush, knowing whatever she brought with her would have to be tied to her saddle horn.
On her way upstairs, she heaved a sigh of dismay. She’d only brought two dresses, neither of them new. She decided on the robin’s egg blue dress. She liked the low, heart-shaped neckline. It would show off her ample bosom. From what she could tell, Miss Millican didn’t have much of a bosom.
Up to now, Birdie thought her ample bosom a bother, all the time bursting buttons and bouncing around when she spurred her pony. Her mother wanted her to wear a corset, but Birdie absolutely refused. She couldn’t breathe in those things. Stays and whalebone had to be unhealthy. Men appreciated a fine bosom, or at least that’s what she’d heard—she’d heard they found a pair of plump bosoms enticing. Today she really wanted to be enticing, not to any man, certainly not to Cornell Norquist, but to one particular man.
Although, it might not do any harm to entice Corney a little bit since he took far too much for granted. If she could ignite a spark, a bit of jealousy in a certain party could work.
Birdie shed her gingham dress, scrubbed her face and neck with soap and water, and then sat down before the vanity mirror to experiment with her hair. She wanted it off her neck. After a number of attempts, she realized combs and pins alone could never tame her unruly locks. Next, she tried to braid her hair, thinking to make a coronet. When Jo walked into the room, Birdie sat swearing at the tangled mess she’d made of her hair, frustrated that she couldn’t even get a brush through it. “Do you have a snood or something?”
Jo stood behind her with her head tilted to one side and her fingers working to comb out a big snarl in the back of Birdie’s head. She asked, “What is it, exactly, that you’re trying to do?”
“I want this mop of mine up off my neck. It’s hot.” Their gazes met in the mirror.
“I have a white lace snood. I’ve never worn it. It makes me look like a nurse or a nun or something, and besides, it washes out my complexion. It’s in the drawer there in front of you, in the back. What dress are you wearing? Did you bring anything with you? I know you travel light.”
Birdie eyed Jo, still in her old blue dress, and took note of the dark circles beneath her eyes. “You need to change your dress, too, Jo. I have my robin’s-egg-blue dress in my bag. It’ll have to do.”
Searching the drawer at the front of the vanity, Birdie located the snood and started to stuff her hair into it. Jo lent her a hand to get all the curls in the fine net lace and helped her tie the satin ribbon at the top of her head. When their gazes met in the mirror, they both nodded in approval. Her springy wisps of blond curls escaped all around her face and neck, and Birdie appeared transformed, the effect becoming, delicate.
“What dress are you wearing? I like the moss-green one, the one with the gold rosettes around the sleeves,” Birdie suggested as she rose from the vanity to get her dress out of her bag.
“I don’t know if I have time to change, I have to go back down to check on our supper. The chickens should be almost done, as well as the squash,” Jo murmured, removing from her closet the green dress Birdie liked.
When Jo started to leave the room, Birdie stopped her. “You will come sit down right here on this bed. Maybe even lie down. Take off your shoes and remove that awful dress. You have a half-hour to rest. You might try putting a cool cloth over your eyes, witch hazel, if you have some. Mother says there’s nothing like witch hazel to deflate the puffies under the eyes. Mother is always right. At least that’s what she tells me. I’ll see to the chicken. I promise I won’t let them burn.”
Jo balked and turned toward the door, saying, “But the tomatoes and the cucumbers still need to be sliced and….”
Birdie whipped the dress out in front of her to get the wrinkles out, ducked her head under the skirt of the dress and worked her way up to the neck until her arms found the short sleeves. “I’ll get it done,” she said, her head appearing at the neck opening. The dress slid down far enough for her to adjust the waist over her bosoms and tuck in her chemise. “Even I know how to slice tomatoes.” With one hand she smoothed out the wrinkles over the skirt and with the other, she tugged at the neckline and picked at the puffy sleeves as Jo buttoned up the seed-pearl buttons in the back. “Maybe I won’t do them exactly how you would do it, but I know how to cut up a cucumber. How hard can it be?”
Birdie turned to give her friend a closer look. “You look worn out, Jo. Splash some water on your face, close your eyes. I’ll come get you before I call everyone in to supper. We have to entertain your brother’s fiancée and future mother-in-law this evening. You’ll want to look your best.”
Jo plopped down on the edge of her bed and blinked. “Who are you? And what have you done with my crazy friend Birdie-Alice? Why aren’t you upset Gabe brought home a fiancée? Why aren’t you in tears? I expected to find you stomping mad, getting ready to set off at a gallop across country on the run. I came up here to talk you out of doing something horrible to Miss Millican before you took off.”
Birdie giggled and waved her hand dismissively. “We all want Gabe to be happy. If Miss what’s-her-name makes him happy, then that’s what I want too.”
Jo put her hands to her cheeks. “Birdie, please, Edditha, her name is Edditha. And you don’t fool me, Birdie-Alice Bollo. You’re making all the right noises, sounding reasonable and understanding and accepting. I don’t trust you when you’re reasonable. You’re plotting something.”
Jo sighed and lay back on her pillow. “I’m too tired to think about it right now, but I have an uneasy feeling there will be no relaxing this evening. So yes, I believe I’ll lie down for a few minutes, close my eyes, and try to think peaceful thoughts.”
On her way out of the room, Birdie said, “I have no plans, other than to make Miss Millican and her mother feel welcome.”
He arm over her eyes, Jo groaned.
Birdie exited the room with her lips tightly pressed together to keep from giggling. She skipped down the stairs, taking note her bosoms jiggled deliciously.