The Perfect Dress

by Brown, Carolyn

  “How do you do that?”

  “Shoot her, I guess,” Mitzi said. “I don’t think wart remover comes in a big enough bottle.”

  His eyes widened and he set his coffee down, stood up, and extended a hand to her. She wasn’t surprised at the vibes between them as he pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. “You are a genius.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” she gasped. “If you really try to kill Rita, then she’ll get the girls and . . .”

  “Honey, I’m not going to shoot her with a gun. I’m going to give her enough rope to hang herself. I’m going to make her sign a whole raft of documents laying out the plans if she wants to get back together with me.” Graham kissed Mitzi on the forehead.

  “You mean like a pre-prenup?” she asked.

  “And in the documents, it’s going to say that should we ever get serious, she agrees to the actual prenup,” he said. “That’ll surgically remove the wart forever.”

  But what if it doesn’t?

  “What if she’s finally figured out that she wants to be a part of a family, and she wants to try to love the girls and you?” she asked.

  “Trust me, darlin’,” Graham said. “I know her, and she hasn’t changed a bit. She’s got dollar signs, not love, in her eyes.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mitzi said.

  “I don’t have a single doubt in the world. Thank you so much for waiting for me and for being such a good friend. Can I help you carry anything out to the van before I get back to work?” Graham asked.

  “There’s nothing heavy.” The way things were going, Mitzi thought they were more than friends. “Are we still on for Sunday?”

  “Of course. Nothing has changed between us, and Mitzi, I appreciate being able to talk to you about all this more than you’ll ever know,” he said.

  “That’s what friends are for,” she told him.

  “I’m hoping for more than that.” He kissed her on the cheek and whistled all the way back to his truck.

  A roller coaster of emotions spun through her mind: Happiness that they could possibly be more than friends. Fear that her heart would break if it didn’t work out. Worry that either or both of them were transferring the feelings they had for Dixie and Tabby into a relationship. With her mind still reeling, she took the cups of tea to her van and then went into the store to take care of business. Her thoughts were far from the bridal fair on Saturday right then. That word, prenup, kept running through her mind. If things did get serious between her and Graham, would he want her to sign one? Would that mean he didn’t trust her?

  “I don’t care what he asks,” she said as she got a cart and pushed it to the customer help station to pick up the things that had been ordered. “I’d be the one insisting on it—that way he’d know that I’d be marrying him because I’d fallen in love with him, not with his money.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jody’s shoulders ached that evening. Normally, she got up every hour and at least walked around the table a few times, but today she had wanted to get the veil that she’d spent days working on done. A bride from up near Sherman would be there on Friday for her final fitting, and the veil was literally the crowning glory. The dress was a simple off-the-shoulder satin, but the chapel-length train was set on a pearl tiara. Beads were not only scattered across the whole thing, but Jody had hand beaded the lace around the edges.

  While she finished the last two feet of the train, her mind had wandered back to Quincy, and she worked for three hours without standing up. She locked up the shop and was about to go upstairs to stretch out when the phone rang. Mitzi was in the bathroom. It was Paula’s turn to make supper, so Jody went back to the sewing room and picked up the receiver.

  “The Perfect Dress,” she said.

  “Is this Jody?”

  “Yes, it is. Who’s this?” If it was someone calling about Lyle’s motorcycle, she intended to give them an earful.

  “It’s Quincy. I thought I recognized your voice. I’m calling about the old trailer out on the property that I’ve bought from Lyle. He says he won’t move it because it belongs to you. What do you want me to do with it?” he asked.

  “Pour gasoline on it and throw a match at it.” There were too many memories attached to the small trailer for her to want to keep the damn thing, and besides, the roof leaked. When it rained they’d had to set a bucket in the middle of the floor to catch the drip.

  “You could sell it. The tires are good and—” Quincy said.

  “Wait a minute,” she butted in. “Don’t do anything with it. I’ll come out there right now and hook on to it.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” he said.

  “I can do it all by myself,” she told him.

  “It’s my property. Wouldn’t want you to steal any of my dirt,” Quincy chuckled.

  “I’ll be there in half an hour,” she said.

  “See you later.” He ended the call.

  Paula looked up from the stove when Jody arrived in the kitchen. Mitzi was at the counter, cutting up salad greens.

  “So did we have a prospective bride on the phone?” Mitzi asked.

  “No, it was Quincy,” Jody said. “Y’all will have to save me some supper. I’m going out to get my travel trailer. He’s officially bought the place from Lyle and wants the old trailer gone.”

  “I’m surprised you’re bringing it back here.” Paula eased fettuccine noodles down into the pot of boiling water.

  “You sure you want that thing? Why don’t you just tell him to take it to the salvage yard?” Mitzi said.

  “At first I told him to pour gasoline on it and throw a match at it, but then I got a better idea. We could strip the interior out, take it to a body shop and get the roof repaired, and then have it custom painted and”—she clapped her hands once—“we’d have our trailer for future shows at a fraction of the cost of a new one.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Mitzi said. “You want us to go get this finished and set it aside? We could be out there in fifteen minutes to help out.”

  “No, I’ve hooked up to it in my old truck lots of times. I’ll bring it back here and park it out back. After we get done with the bridal show, we can start work on it and then haul it over to Jason’s Body Shop. He’s really good with that kind of work.” Jody headed for the back door. “And besides, Quincy will be there in case I need any help.”

  Her faded-blue vehicle looked more than a little bit like a poor country cousin when she arrived and parked beside his brand-new truck. He waved from the place where the garden had been and started toward her. Tonight he wore wrinkled jeans and a knit shirt that hugged his body. His scuffed-up boots said they’d seen lots of hard work, and his straw hat bore sweat marks.

  “I was ready to invite you out to roast marshmallows and make s’mores while we burned this thing to the ground.” He grinned.

  For the first time, she noticed that he had a dimple on the right side of his cheek. “Why waste good marshmallows? We couldn’t eat them. They’d be poisoned.”

  “But you’re willing to keep the thing, knowing that whatever you do with it will bring back memories?” he asked.

  “When I get done with it, there will be nothing left to remind me of my time with Lyle.” She told him what she had in mind.

  “That’s crazy. You could buy one and not have to do all that work. You’ll have to be careful not to do anything that will wind up knocking holes through the exterior walls.”

  “That’s really none of your business. Maybe tearing it all out will bring me complete closure. It’ll leave me with an empty shell to rebuild the inside however I want,” she said.

  “Women!” He threw up his hands.

  “What about women?” She raised both eyebrows.

  “You always overthink everything. Lyle’s a bastard who had an affair and left you. Get over it.”

  She marched right up to him and poked her finger so close to his nose that it made his eyes cross. “You walk a mile in my shoes, Mr. Rob
erts, and then you can stand here all self-righteous and tell me to get over it. I’ll be hitching up to the trailer now and moving it off your precious property. If there’s any dirt on the tires when I get it back to the shop, I’ll be sure to put it in a box and mail it back to you. I wouldn’t want you thinkin’ I’m stealing it.”

  He took a step back. “Hey, I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

  “Well, you did.” She stormed over to her truck, expertly backed it up to the trailer, got out, and hitched it without a problem. “Enjoy your land,” she said as she slid behind the wheel, slammed the door, and started the engine.

  He tipped his hat at her, got into his truck, and drove away.

  The radio was blaring just like it had been when she turned the key earlier, but now it was playing the Pistol Annies’ “I Feel a Sin Comin’ On.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jody said as she stomped the clutch and put the truck in gear. “The only sin I feel comin’ on is maybe poisoning Lyle and slapping the shit out of Quincy . . . and maybe doing something evil to Clinton for Paula. But the sin I feel doesn’t have anything to do with a tall, dark, and handsome guy.”

  Stop kiddin’ yourself, that pesky voice in her head said.

  Jody gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white and her hands ached when she finally parked behind the shop. She turned off the engine and sat in the hot truck until salty sweat began to sting her eyes. Opening the door to get air didn’t help since there wasn’t any sign of a breeze blowing. Finally, she swung open the door and put her feet on the ground but didn’t realize just how weak kneed she still was. She had to hang on to the door for a minute to get her balance.

  Going back out there for the final time wasn’t supposed to affect her like this. If anything, it should bring more closure, not open up even more anger. When did this business of acceptance arrive anyway?

  She didn’t bother unhitching the trailer but stomped into the house and went straight for a plate. “I’m mad and I’m hungry.”

  “Mitzi’s upstairs. Do I need to call her and get out the ice cream?” Paula asked.

  “No,” Jody said. “I need food and maybe a good cold beer to settle me down. I just had a run-in with Quincy, and what should have been the end to the Jody-and-Lyle story wasn’t.” She told Paula the details of what had happened. “What is it about men? Just because they can settle something with three words, they can’t understand that womenfolk need to figure out things.”

  “They’re from Mars, remember?” Paula told her in a flat tone.

  “I think they’re from further out than that.” Jody filled her plate and took it to the table.

  Fanny Lou opened the back door and stuck her head inside. “Where’s Mitzi?”

  “Upstairs.” Paula pointed.

  Fanny Lou set a covered dish on the table. “That’s seven-layer dip. I took it to my Sunday school committee meeting this evening. We had too much food, so it was barely touched.” She pulled up a chair and shook out half the bag of chips into a bowl. “I’m glad we’re here by ourselves. I’m worried about Mitzi.”

  “Graham?” Paula asked.

  Fanny Lou got three spoons from the drawer. “It’s better if you dip to the bottom and put it on the chip. And yes, about Graham. She’s so damned happy that I’m afraid when they have an argument—well, you know her. Things are black or white in her world. There is no gray.”

  “It’s either rainbows and unicorn farts, or nothing,” Jody said. “She came from a pretty nice family, so she doesn’t know how to argue and then make up.”

  “Exactly,” Fanny Lou said. “I guess she’s about to learn if this gets any more serious, because reality is being able to run the obstacle course that life throws at you and make it to the end without killing the person you’re in the relationship with.”

  “I remember the first fight me and Lyle had after we moved in together. It was all over this old tomcat that came up to the back door. Lyle hated cats, but I couldn’t bear to see it hungry, so I fed it without telling him. Of course it kept showing up and meowing every night. He threatened to shoot it, and I said I’d shoot him if he did. It took us a week to reach a compromise. I could feed the cat, but it couldn’t come inside the house,” Jody grumbled.

  “And the makeup sex?” Fanny Lou winked.

  “I’d like to say it was horrible but it wasn’t. We were good together in the bedroom and I still get a stomachache when I think of him with the other woman,” Jody fumed.

  Fanny Lou sat down at the table with the girls. “I don’t think my granddaughter has ever had makeup sex. She loves with her whole heart, but if someone breaks it, she’s done with them. It’s finished. There’s no talking and she never looks back.”

  “I wish to hell I could do that.” Jody’s voice was still cold as ice.

  Paula spooned a big mound of dip onto a chip. “We can hope this time will be different. She’s perfect for those girls, and they love her.”

  Fanny Lou got up, went to the refrigerator, and brought out two beers and a root beer. “I need something to cool down my tongue.” She popped the tab from a beer and handed the second one to Jody. “Root beer for you, darlin’. When I was pregnant with Mitzi’s mama, it wasn’t against the rules to drink a beer or even have a glass of wine, but times have changed. Mitzi may be perfect for the girls, but, honey, she needs to be perfect for Graham, and him for her, if this is going to work at all. He’s the main dish. Those twins are just the dessert.”

  “Hey, hey, what’s all this?” Mitzi said as she entered the kitchen. “Is that your seven-layer dip, Granny? Step back and let me roll up my sleeves, because I’m about to get all up in some of that.”

  “You don’t have on long sleeves,” Fanny Lou told her. “And where have you been?”

  “I was doing a little inventory on the flowers left in the bins. I should make a run into Walmart and buy some more in case the girls want to do some last-minute stuff for the bridal fair.” She got a beer from the refrigerator and sat down in the remaining chair. “Y’all decided whether you’re going out on the pontoon boat on Sunday?”

  “I’m going, but I won’t be swimming. Y’all know how afraid of deep water I am,” Jody said. “Not even Lyle—dammit to hell—why do I even mention his name? But what I was going to say is that even he couldn’t talk me into learning to swim. If it’s above my waist, I begin to panic.”

  “And I’m pregnant, so I won’t be swimming, either,” Paula reminded her.

  “And I’m too damned old to jump in the lake,” Fanny Lou said. “Have you and Graham been to bed yet?”

  “Granny!” Mitzi dropped the chip before it reached her mouth.

  “I was bein’ nice. I could have asked outright if y’all had sex yet,” Fanny Lou told her. “You come in here all aglow. Only thing that ever put that kind of look on my face was a trip to the bedroom with your grandpa.” She giggled. “Sometimes I’d start a fight just so we could have makeup sex.”

  “Granny!” Mitzi exclaimed for the second time.

  “That’s what you do, darlin’. You argue. You go to the bedroom and make up. That don’t mean you take jack crap from the man. No, sir. It just means that once the fight is resolved, then you reap the benefits. Come to think of it, maybe I should start an argument with Elijah and see if he’s still able to do that.”

  Mitzi’s cheeks went from cool to red hot in a flash. “Grandmothers aren’t supposed to talk like that.”

  “It’s the truth. Wait until you have a big argument with Graham, and you’ll find out,” Fanny Lou said.

  Mitzi went to the refrigerator, opened the freezer, and stuck her head inside in an attempt to cool her cheeks. Paula nudged Fanny Lou and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “Y’all are crazy,” Mitzi said. “I’m going to Greenville to buy more flowers. Y’all can talk about makeup sex all night if you want to.”

  “I’d go with you but I’m so angry, I’m going to spend two hours cleaning out the trailer. There’s
pots and pans, and canned food we can use,” Jody said.

  “If there’s going to be work, I’m out of here.” Fanny Lou stood up.

  “I’ll get one of those old lawn chairs from the front porch and talk to you while you work off your anger,” Paula said.

  “See y’all later.” Mitzi headed out the door with a wave.

  “Hell and damnation!” Graham said when Rita caught him in the Walmart store that evening. This time she was dressed in shorts that barely covered her butt cheeks and sandals that showed off bright-red toenail polish that matched what was on her lips.

  “I was in town to pick up cleaning supplies. Us runnin’ into each other is pure karma. God is tellin’ us that we need to be together.” She ran a hand from his shoulder to his wrist. “Trust me.”

  “I lost the ability to trust you years ago, but I’ve given your idea some thought,” he said. “I’m having the lawyers draw up what Mitzi calls a pre-prenup. When they get them done up, you can read over them and sign them. After that I might think you’re serious.”

  “And what’s this document going to say?” She glared at him.

  “Simply that if our relationship doesn’t work, you take out exactly what you brought into it. No settlements. No money of any kind. And that you relinquish all rights to the girls, like you did in the divorce. That if it works, you will be a stay-at-home mother and you will never have anything to do with the dealership,” he said.

  “You’re bluffing,” she said.

  “No, I’m not. Right now I’m not interested in any kind of relationship with you, but if that’s what you want, then I’m telling you up front that I won’t even go out with you for coffee until you sign the papers,” he told her.

  “That’s harsh. I’ve changed,” she declared.

  “You’re married and yet you showed up asking me if I want to go to bed with you so you can get pregnant. Seems to me like you’ve changed, all right, but for the worse,” he said.

  She pushed her cart around his. “Don’t judge me. You haven’t lived in my skin all my life.”