Something lurched in Elizabeth's chest every time Tommy doted on Granny. He brought her old-fashioned doughnuts and a big cup of coffee and set her up at the table in the motel. Once he reiterated his promise that he would take her to the museum, she agreed to relax in the room while they ran their errand.
On their way to the car, he offered the keys.
"You were right," she agreed while pushing the keys away. "Once I was doing it, it wasn't so bad, and I will practice again but not now."
"Wouldn't hurt to try again while you're comfortable with it," Tommy said.
She wished she could drink up his calm attitude about the whole mess. She considered it, but a big truck rumbled by and the street was much busier than the night before. She said, "I promise I'll try again."
"You're the boss," he said.
They found a copy shop for Tommy's plan and then went to the thrift shop advertised as the best in the city.
Inside, Elizabeth took a quick lap before guiding him to a long rack stuffed with slacks.
"Tell me what it is you're wanting," she said.
"I need to look nice," Tommy said.
"Nice, as in formal wedding nice?"
"No, nice like not jeans or athletic wear," he said.
She couldn't help smiling at that. "Athletic wear?"
"People call it that," Tommy said. "Linda would say I need to look professional."
Elizabeth held up a pair of black pants.
He glanced at them, then said, "Sure, if I wanted to go door-to-door selling magazine subscriptions."
"Be open-minded. For me." She took his arm and guided him to another rack, part of her brain still reliving the memory of his hands all over her. She took a calming breath. "The secret to thrifting is patience." She attacked another jammed rack. The first few items were worthless. She thrust a possibility into his hands.
He held up the hanger. "Are these skinny jeans?"
"They aren't jeans," Elizabeth said. Now that he held them up, she wasn't sure about the color. Dark brown sometimes looked like a mistake.
"Pants? Skinny pants? I can't wear this."
She took them back. "I didn't want brown anyway." She handed him two more pairs. "Before you go in, let me find some shirts. Do you see the changing room?"
"There's a sign in the corner," he said, his voice resigned. "What kind of shirt are you making me wear?"
"It's not going to have the name of a sports team." She guided him to a rack with shirts and then ran her hands over his chest and across his shoulders.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said.
"That's how I verify your size," she said.
The white button-downs were dingy, the best one had a stain on the collar, but she found a light blue one to get them started. She paused over a collection of sweaters.
"What about this?" He used his elbow to point at a light gray Henley.
"That's practically a T-shirt. You said professional." She pulled something else off the rack.
"Is that a sweater vest, because I'm not wearing a sweater vest," Tommy said when he spotted what was in her hand.
"Some might call it that. I call it cashmere. Feel how soft it is. You will look terrific in it," she said, urging him to take it.
"Someone else will look terrific in it."
"Fine," she said, but she didn't put it back.
The changing rooms were nothing but tiny nooks with flimsy curtains to hide the occupant. She studied them carefully.
"I know what you're thinking," Tommy said. "Jeez, you can't keep your hands off me."
"Nope, I can't," Elizabeth agreed.
"Do you like to do it in a normal place, like a bed?"
"Yes. Do you see one?"
"Not right this second." He paused, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips before ducking behind the curtain.
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling.
As soon as he came out, she wanted to rip the clothes back off him. "You look incredible. What do you think?"
Tommy fingered the fabric. "I'm not sure about this."
"It looks amazing."
"I feel uncomfortable," he said.
"Meaning the fit? Or like you're not accustomed to looking so ridiculously sexy?"
Tommy checked out the pants again. "The second one, I guess. What is this?"
"Pinstripes. Men's dress trousers for the professional. Total contemporary native. All the guys on the rez will be wearing it next season." She hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and considered how to complete the outfit.
"I don't think that will happen," Tommy said.
"I wonder if we can find a jacket," she said.
"Now you're out of control," Tommy said. "Plus, my shoes look stupid. A nice pair of athletic—"
"Stop," Elizabeth said. "You said you wanted to look nice and you put yourself in my capable hands."
Tommy gave her a pained look. "Something something capable hands?"
"Later," Elizabeth said. "Try on the other stuff. I'm going to dig around for shoes and a jacket. You might like some of those other things."
"I won't," he said.
"I drove on the freeway and changed lanes. Try on the clothes," she said.
"No matter what I do or where I go in this world, there's always an Ind'n woman ordering me around."
Her heart stuttered again. The heavy feeling in her chest was more than she was accustomed to. She pulled him closer and pressed her forehead to his. "What are we going to do?"
Tommy knew she wasn't talking about the museum. "You said you could visit."
"And you visit me?" Her voice had lost its confidence.
"As much as I can. But how long can we make that go on? You want to live in the city? Linda and Arnie love finding young Ind'ns jobs." He imagined showing her around, and trying new restaurants, and going on day hikes. "I bet there are great thrift shops where I live."
The playfulness was gone and a sad seriousness in its place. "I can't leave Granny. Would you ever live somewhere else?"
During any number of drives, he'd considered going someplace else. Running or relocating, the difference was slim, but he couldn't abandon his own family responsibilities. "What about Angie?"
"What about Angie?" Elizabeth said, something extra in her voice.
His body tightened up, and he pulled away. "It's different for you and your family?"
Elizabeth chose her words carefully. "She is an addict, right now, in the middle of it, manipulating and lying. You need to take care of yourself without a sick person derailing you."
"Do I look derailed to you?" he said.
She expelled a sharp breath. "How can you not see it?"
Cold, sharp anger flashed through him. Whatever truth might be in that statement, he wasn't going to talk about it. He shook his head. "Not from you," he said.
"Sorry, it's your life," she said, but it was too late.
"It's your life, too," he said. "The whole world is in love with Dorothy Scott, but it's you putting everything on hold to take care of her."
"I am not putting everything on hold." Her eyes gleamed with anger.
At this rate, the day would be ruined. He took her hands and held on when she tried to pull back. "Let's not do this. There's so little time. Let's stick together for Granny. We'll sort us out later."
"How? How will we sort us out?"
"Maybe we won't," he said. "Maybe we say goodbye. If not now, then sometime. I haven't figured it out yet."
He let go and returned to the changing room, sweeping the curtain behind him. But not before glimpsing the sadness in her eyes. He sorted through the rest of the clothes she picked for him, his heart so heavy he felt sick. His phone vibrated and he took a peek.
Angie.
Maybe she was derailing him. Or perhaps he was helping her. His finger hovered over the ignore button. They were family. She was trying. He accepted the call.
"Where are you?" Angie said, her voice shaky.
"Helping an elder. Where are you?"
"I was in jail but Dad bailed me out. We got a lawyer like you said. I'm at the apartment. Are you coming home soon?"
Tommy closed his eyes. She was back at his place, again, and waiting for him, like nothing had changed. "I hope so. Are you okay?"
"I'm not drinking. I'm going to be good this time. I promise." Her tone was sincere, contrite. The accident was the wake-up call she’d needed.
"Good. I'll be home late tonight or early tomorrow. I'm supposed to work."
"Okay. Sorry, Tommy. When you get here, I'll apologize to your boss. I'm going to talk to some people about a job. I'm going to do it right this time."
"Good to hear, Ange," Tommy said with a breath of relief.
When he came out, Elizabeth stood in front of a mirror wearing a sequined gown like a movie star would wear to a premiere. She dropped a hand to her hip and shifted her body so that the smooth bronze line of her leg showed. With a tilt of her head, she swept her hair back, and he caught a glimpse of the back of her neck where he'd kissed her the night before. His heart kicked up a notch.
"You're amazing," he said. "You getting that?"
Elizabeth stood back as if waiting for the punch line. "You're not going to tell me it's too much or make a cutting remark about a fancy gown and the rez?"
Tommy shook his head. "Why would I do that?"
Elizabeth put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "This is the best weekend I've ever had. If I wasn't so worried about Granny, I would never want it to end."
"Me either," he said, and hugged her back like he would never let her go.