She had time to browse through the clothing before heading over to the bookstore for her shift. Though she hated shopping, it was time to cast off a bit of her shell and return to the living. Also, she did need something nice for her potential dinner date with Orin. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled open the glass door. A little bell announced her arrival. The shop was small and scented with pine potpourri that she presumed was in honor of the holiday season, since Christmas decorations were up.
“Welcome. I’m Mrs. Bakkman. May I help you?”
The regal British tones of an older woman suddenly at her elbow so startled Midge that she spun around and knocked into a rack of forest-green silk blouses. The display tipped over, scattering the garments over the floor like leaves blown from a tree.
“I’m so sorry.” Midge stooped to pick up the blouses.
“Don’t mind those. Stacy will get them.” She cupped Midge’s elbow and gently urged her to stand. Turning her head toward the back of the tiny store, she called out, “Stacy, I have a job for you. Please come here.”
Seconds later a young woman scurried from the back room.
“Tidy up these tops, will you, please?” Mrs. Bakkman waved her bony fingers over the pile.
Without pause, Stacy gathered the blouses from the floor.
“Now for you.” Mrs. Bakkman clasped her hands and gave Midge her full attention. “May I help you find something specific?”
“It’s time to upgrade my wardrobe.” She loved the confidence and determination that came from her voice. The move felt right and perfect.
Mrs. Bakkman dissected Midge’s appearance with careful precision. “Anything particular?”
“A mix of casual and something nice I could wear on a date.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I like a challenge of matching people to the perfect clothing. What size? Ten, if I’m guessing correctly. With all this bulky clothing you’ve got on, it’s difficult to see you have a shape at all. But I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.” She clapped her hands. “I think we might have a few items that will do nicely. Stacy, when you’re done with those, please pull out the wine velvet and the charcoal satin suit, size ten.”
“Right, Mrs. B.” The girl straightened the last blouse, then bounced off toward the display racks to Midge’s right.
Mrs. Bakkman guided Midge to the left where a curtained dressing room awaited. “Undress and I’ll pass the outfits through.”
Midge complied. As she got down to her underwear and bra, Mrs. Bakkman thrust two hangers through the curtain. Midge hung them up and examined each outfit.
The first was a velvet dress with a scalloped neck and long, fitted sleeves. The color was a beautiful shade of burgundy. Midge stroked the soft material, admiring its classic lines. It was dressier than she wanted but lovely.
The second outfit was a black, two-piece suit. The lapels and cuffs were satin, and the neckline plunged in a deep V that ended at one glittering onyx button. She searched the hanger for a blouse but found none. Midge stuck her head outside the curtain and located Stacy rearranging skirts on a nearby rack.
“Excuse me. I’m missing the blouse that goes under the satin jacket.”
She smiled. “There isn’t any. The only thing that goes underneath is you.” Stacy wagged a finger over her chest.
“Oh.” Her lack of fashion acumen was definitely noticeable. Midge ducked back inside and pulled on the burgundy velvet dress. It hugged her curves, kissed her knees and accentuated her breasts.
“Are you doing all right in there?” Mrs. Bakkman’s called out. “Once you’ve got one on, step out so I can assess you.”
Midge stepped through the curtain. Mrs. Bakkman stared, one hand cupped to her face, mouth pursed in thought.
“What do you think?” Midge asked hesitantly.
“Could we lose the ponytail, dear?”
Midge slid off the scrunchie. Her curls sprang forth in a riotous tumble and cascaded halfway down her back. A few more errant twists curved around her face. Her mother had always nagged her to get it cut short so it could be more manageable—‘tidy’ was the word she used—but Midge refused. She liked long hair.
“Gorgeous.” Mrs. Bakkman flicked a hand toward her. “That dress, combined with your deep brown hair, is glorious. I love the red-and-gold highlights. Absolutely beautiful. I don’t see why you keep those curls all wadded up at the back of your head like that. If I’d had hair like that at your age, I’d make sure everyone could see it. And your figure… See for yourself.” Her voice was sincerely complimentary.
Midge turned to face a three-way mirror on the wall next to the dressing room. The ghost of Midge’s past was reflected back to her. This was who she’d been before it had happened and Midge wanted that person back again something fierce.
“You’ve got a lovely figure. It’s a shame to cover it up with frumpy clothing. Didn’t your mother ever take you shopping?”
Midge’s smile froze. Her mother had never had the time to take Midge anywhere, let alone shopping. All her waking hours had been spent slaving away at her administrative job in order to maintain a home and put food on the table for them—something she never let Midge forget. Her parents’ divorce had been bitter. It had tainted her mother’s attitude about everything reminiscent of her former husband, including her daughter.
She smiled at Mrs. Bakkman in the mirror. “I’ll try on the black suit. I’d also like to try one of those forest-green blouses with gray slacks.”
“I’ll get those for you. By the way, what is your name?”
“Midge Ellis.” She extended her hand.
Mrs. Bakkman’s handshake was firm and dry. “I’ll only be a minute, back in time to see the next outfit.”
Midge changed into the tuxedo-style suit, which left quite a bit of her cleavage exposed. Air from the store’s heating vents slithered down the V-neck like a cold finger. Or a hot tongue. Suppressing a shiver, she stepped out of the changing room.
“Marvelous.” Mrs. Bakkman clapped her hands and walked around Midge while she eyed her with a proprietary stare. “Well, you can see what I mean.”
Again, Midge turned to the mirror. “Holy cow.” She was shocked by the amount of creamy bosom that surged between the black satin borders of the lapel. “I couldn’t wear this in public.” She laughed at the thought.
“Pishposh.” Mrs. Bakkman waved the notion aside with a toss of her fingers. “You’ve certainly got the bosom for it. So many women come in here who don’t have enough to fill up a teacup, let alone a sophisticated little number like this.” She sniffed. “Then they have the nerve to suggest alterations. Imagine the ruin. If they would stop drinking diet soda and eating lettuce for breakfast, lunch and dinner, they might have something to put into that jacket.”
Midge laughed again as Mrs. Bakkman placed the blouse and slacks in the dressing room.
“You realize you wouldn’t wear a bra underneath that, don’t you? Otherwise, the front of the bra would show.”
Midge cocked her head to one side as she studied her reflection. No bra? That sounded sinfully delicious. “It’s beautiful. They’re great. I’d like both. Now let me try on—”
“Midge, look at you!”
She cringed at the sound of Susan’s voice.
“I thought that was your SUV outside, but I didn’t think you’d actually be shopping here for clothes. I thought you lived for Walmart.” She walked toward Midge, looking chic in a pair of black knit trousers and a fitted black cashmere sweater.
Irritation crawled up her spine. “Did you need something, Susan? I don’t have a lot a time before my shift at the bookstore.”
“Judging from your selection there, you’re the one who needs something.” Susan perused her through narrowed eyes. “I think it’s a little bit much for someone like you. How about this one?” She grabbed an electric blue dress with dolman sleeves off a nearby rack. The neck was an unadorned scoop and the bias-cut hemline would skim at mid-thigh.
“That dress is totally inappropriate for this young woman’s hair color and aura,” Mrs. Bakkman sputtered.
Susan leaned close to Midge and whispered, “Perfect for red hair though, right?”
Midge winced. Damn. She’d forgotten about the stupid wig and the charade she’d gotten herself into. Susan was right. With the crimson wig, the dress would be fine, and it certainly was eye-catching. But she wasn’t about to spend money on something that wouldn’t look good on her real self.
Susan checked the size of the blue dress. “This will fit you. Listen… I’m parked next to a hydrant out front, and I don’t want my car to get towed. I’m going out back to see if there’s another space available.”
“No.” Midge returned the dress to the rack. “I’m good with my choices. I don’t want your help.”
She crossed her arms and jutted out one hip. “Awfully snotty all of a sudden. You ditched us last night. We didn’t really appreciate it. So now that you’ve gotten laid, we’re too good for you?”
She had some nerve. Resurrected Midge wasn’t putting up with it. “You need to leave. Now. I’ll see your things are returned to you.”
“Fine.” She turned and walked out. The tinkle of the shop door heralded her exit.
Mrs. Bakkman mouth puckered as if she were sucking lemons. “That one is definitely no lady.”
Midge sighed. “You’re right about that.”
“Good riddance,” Mrs. Bakkman added.
“But she did draw my attention to this lovely evergreen number.” Midge pulled a feather-soft shift with long sleeves from the rack. Her encounter with Susan had cost her time. She wouldn’t be able to try anything else on. “I’d like all four outfits, please.”
Mrs. Bakkman applauded her choices and lost no time getting Midge’s purchases on their hangers and hung in a black garment bag that had the Bakkman’s Boutique logo emblazoned across the front in spidery gold script.
“I hope you enjoy these,” she said as she handed Midge the receipt. “I know you’ll do justice to them all. You are a strikingly beautiful young woman. We hope to see you again.” The lines at the corners of her eyes deepened with her smile.
“I’m sure you will.”
Midge waved goodbye as she exited the store. A few minutes later, she pulled into the Book Nook’s parking lot. After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the garment bag. She wanted to share with someone and there was no one more perfect than Vera Livretti.
The Book Nook was in an old adobe house that had been converted into a bookstore. Emma Alderman was the proud owner and had wasted no time hiring Midge part-time. Vera was the manager, display designer and resident palm reader, although Midge wasn’t sure how many of Vera’s prophesies were geared toward encouraging book purchases and how many were genuine portents. Midge had loved the bookstore from the second she’d walked in. Its maze of rooms promised surprises at every twist, as did the chimes attached to the front door.
“I’ll be right out. Feel free to browse,” Vera called from the back.
“It’s me.”
Midge wound her way through the rooms. Vera had spent considerable time transforming the shop into a winter wonderland for the holidays. A few customers stood here and there, absorbed in their browsing. Most of them were regulars who came in for the conversation as much as anything else.
She finally found Vera in the children’s section, struggling to set up an end cap filled with DVDs of the latest Disney movies.
“Let me give you a hand with that.” She laid her purchases on a reading table and grabbed the other side of the unit.
They shuffled the end cap into place near the chapter books and took a step back to admire the display. Vera had used papier-mâché and paint to make an ice castle.
“The kids are going to love that.” They doted on the attention Vera gave them.
“Goddess, I hope so.” Vera sighed and stretched her back. “It took me hours to get those silly turrets just right.”
Somehow Midge didn’t think Vera minded all that much. She had a zest for life and an appreciation for detail not too many people could match. She was a vivacious woman in her early forties with long black hair worn in a single plait down her back.
Creative and eccentric, she dressed to entertain herself as well as the customers. Today she must be in an exotic mood, as she wore a mango-colored sari with matching brocade slippers. Her arms were piled with brass and copper bracelets that clinked as she moved, and her braid was decorated with strands of yellow and orange beads looped in and out through her hair, ending at a small bell that tinkled with each twitch of her head.
“Nice outfit,” Midge told her.
“Thanks,” replied Vera. “I did a Jungle Book- themed story time for the kids today. They each pretended to be a different animal while I narrated. We may have gone off book.” She laughed—a bright sound—then she studied Midge. “You’re looking especially lovely and bright-eyed today.” Vera raised one delicate eyebrow. “Do I sense a man entering your sphere of influence?”
Midge didn’t want to go into any details right now but knew that once she showed Vera the Bakkman’s bags, more questions would come. Vera was a good listener. She might be able to give some good advice about the wig and what to do about the charade.
Midge sighed and picked up her bags. “Let’s put these away in the coffee room then I’ll spill the whole sordid tale once we close.”
Two hours later, the last customer left and Vera turned the ‘Closed’ sign around on the front window. Between book buyers, Midge had managed to share her recent exploits, and now they were finally alone, so she could get Vera’s opinion.
“What do you think I should do? Wear the wig again or not?”
Vera opened her mouth to reply when a hard rap at the door interrupted her. “Who could that be?” She peeked through the Venetian blind then unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“I’m so sorry, Jess. I’d forgotten you were coming by tonight.”
Midge’s breath caught. It wasn’t the tall, lean man with the gray hair who’d caught her attention. It was the younger man with the killer looks who trailed Jess into the store.
Davidson stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She wished he’d stop because the flame in his eyes had found a target between her legs.
Ellis stared a hole through him. Not that he didn’t deserve it. A wave of annoyance tinged with embarrassment rushed over Kurt.
Stay calm and pull it together. Apologize.
He would, but not in front of an audience. He forced a smile and tried to ignore the curl of shame twisting in his gut. Something about the woman always pushed his buttons, and he was damned if he knew what it was that had her front and center every night in his masturbatory fantasies. And fuck, he was hard again—in full view of anyone who looked.
Look, baby.
Why should she after the way he’d behaved that morning? Why the hell did he want her to see what he was packing?
“I presume you two know each other from work?” Jess’ question hung in the air.
Kurt pulled the door shut, waiting for her to answer.
“We do.” Her tight voice dripped acid. “Special Agent Davidson considers himself a fashion consultant for women Marines.”
“Just the ones who need a lot of help,” he snapped back.
He got that she was angry. She had every right to be. But he wouldn’t stand there and take her barbs. A man needed to defend himself.
“I don’t need your help with anything, buster.”
She stepped toward him, fists balled at her sides. Her hair drew his attention. Free of its usual confining bun, it cascaded in a waterfall of curls down her back and around her face. It was a rich brown and shone with mahogany highlights. There was a familiarity about her that he couldn’t pinpoint—hair down, her heart-shaped face, full lips.
Of course she’d be familiar. He saw her often at work. It was the hair. There was so much of it, it had to weigh a ton, an
d it looked silky. He had the urge to reach out and stroke the one soft curl kissing her cheek. Kurt plunged his hands into his jeans pockets.
“Children, children.” Jess followed up with a fatherly tsk-tsk. “How was business today, Vera?”
Jess moved between him and Ellis, blocking whatever current coursed between them. His cock could still feel her presence. Kurt took the opportunity to pull it to a more comfortable position while he was hidden from view.
“We had a great day.” Vera shuffled a stack of bookmarks into place beside the register. “Lots of sales.”
“Good. Emma asked me to get a trunk from the attic. Apparently, it can’t wait until she comes home on Monday. Frankly, neither can I.”
Neither could Kurt. Jess had been out of sorts while his wife visited college friends in San Diego. He chanced another peek at Ellis. Her ivory cheeks glowed pink and her gray eyes narrowed behind the glasses balanced on her cute little nose. He envisioned drawing her glasses off, leaning in to—
Stop it.
The mental reprimand fell on deaf body parts.
“I brought along muscle to help with the lifting.” Jess jerked his thumb at Kurt, scattering his wayward thoughts.
A twinkle lit Vera’s eyes, making her appear ten years younger. The little bell at the end of her braid emitted a small peal as she turned.
“Come on and help me pull down the ladder. There’s a lot up in that attic. It might take a bit to find the trunk. The previous owner left a treasure trove. We’ll call your muscle when we need him.”
Vera tossed back, “Play nice, kids,” as they left and suddenly Kurt found himself alone with a very hostile yet beyond desirable woman.
“Why are you here?” His question cut the long silence.
“Are you surprised to know I can read?” She shot back.
Kurt took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “I know you can read. I’ve seen you with a book or tablet during lunch on many occasions. I was making small talk. That’s all.”
Beneath the Layers Page 8
