Wesley peered into Next Level’s extra-large window, displaying an array of intimate apparel, and frowned. “Because according to Mom, Sunday nights are when kids like me remember class snack day, forgotten school supplies and bake sales.”
Clearly Wesley had been listening to Nichole rehearse her pitch. The one she planned to give tomorrow night to potential investors who could help launch her business.
That pinch became a squeeze inside her chest. Wesley should be playing video games and concentrating on soccer drills, not reciting her presentation word for word.
“You know what else?” Wesley positioned himself spread eagle across the door to Next Level, blocking their entry. “Mom really hates bake sales and when her son is embarrassed by being seen in a women’s clothing store.”
“I don’t hate hate bake sales.” Nichole disliked good-nights that started with: Mom, I forgot to tell you... “I created the In A Pinch app for families who have handed out sticks of gum for class snack. Or used stale Halloween candy for the class Valentine’s Day exchange. Or sent in grapes on toothpicks for the bake sale.”
“Don’t remind me,” Wesley mumbled. “But the bubble gum was awesome, even though Ms. Warner confiscated every piece.”
“It was against the rules.” Nichole grimaced at Brooke.
“Well, shopping is not against the rules.” Brooke motioned to Wesley. “Now let us get inside so we can dress your mom for her next level of success.”
Wesley never budged. “But I’m in a pinch and in need of saving from being seen in there.”
“You’re in luck. Your rescue squad is almost here.” Brooke checked her phone. “Ben and his dad are a few blocks away.”
Wesley pumped his fists and grinned.
“But you still have to come inside the store until they get here,” Nichole said.
“Ugh.” Wesley shuffled away from the door.
“Nichole. Brooke.” Josie Beck waved and rushed toward them. Her smile was wide and welcoming. “Nichole, I’m thinking this must be your son. He looks like he’s working on passing you up.”
“Mom says no matter how tall I get I won’t outgrow her heart.” Wesley choked as if he couldn’t believe he’d recited such a girlie sentiment out loud.
Nichole poked Wesley’s arm to remind him to shake Josie’s hand and prayed his hands weren’t too dirty. “Wesley, Josie designs her own wedding gowns at her bridal boutique. I’m sure she’d give you a tour.” And with luck, Josie would know how to dress Nichole for that next level.
“I’m not getting married.” Wesley stepped back and waved his hands out in front of him. “Ever.”
“Good to know.” Josie touched her cheek as if stopping her grin. “We’ll talk again when you’re in college and see if you’ve changed your mind.”
“Not happening.” Wesley shook his head so hard his bangs swayed.
“That leaves your mom and Brooke to walk down the aisle.” Josie clasped her hands together. The velvet scrap of fabric tied in her blond hair shifted in the wind.
“Uh.” Nichole stepped back, bumping into the brick ledge framing the window display. Her pulse raced. Brides were the center of attention. Nichole never wanted that. She’d elope and skip all the fuss. Or even better, she’d follow Wesley’s lead and forgo marriage altogether.
“My mom says she’ll only get married when she finds someone who eats peanut butter and pickle sandwiches too.” Wesley grabbed his stomach and released a burst of laughter. “Last night she ate the whole sandwich herself.”
Now Nichole was the center of the attention. “It’s a good sandwich.”
“That’s a rather specific requirement in a partner.” Brooke grinned at Josie. “It sort of sounds like a challenge to me.”
“There’s someone for everyone the same way there’s a gown for every body.” Josie glanced at Nichole and her smile widened. “We just need to find him for you.”
“My friend Adam Tanner will eat anything. He ate an earthworm one day after school.” Wesley grimaced. “But even Adam won’t try Mom’s sandwich.”
“I think we’ve gotten off track,” Nichole said. “I’m perfectly happy not sharing my pickle and peanut butter sandwich.” She was perfectly happy without a so-called better half. Or rather, she was content. Besides, raising Wesley filled her life—he was everything to her.
“Mom and Brooke dumped Mom’s entire closest all over her bedroom floor. Then Brooke announced a fashion emergency.” Wesley stepped closer to Josie and flung his arms wide. Disbelief lifted his voice an octave higher than usual. Wesley added, “Mom made me walk all the way here because I can’t stay home alone. Even though I’m almost twelve.”
Josie rubbed her forehead as if unsure how to console Wesley. Then she looked at Nichole, both eyebrows raised. “Nichole, your text didn’t say you wanted to redo your entire wardrobe.”
“I need an outfit for only one business meeting,” Nichole clarified. A potentially life-changing meeting. Less than an hour earlier, Brooke and she had determined Nichole owned nothing suitable to wear to her upcoming life-changing meeting. Still, an entire fashion overhaul seemed a bit much.
“One career-making or breaking meeting.” Brooke’s voice lowered into dismal and dreary. “With corporate gurus who can smash Nichole’s dreams into pieces.” Brooke ground her palms together.
Nichole raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather dramatic.”
“But sadly true.” Brooke waved at Nichole, presenting her with the flourish of a game show hostess. “Nichole needs an outfit to put her in control and in charge.”
If there was such clothing. Nichole gravitated toward comfort. And anything that helped her blend in. She never wanted to stand out. Not as a child. Not now as an adult. She touched her tunic sweatshirt and tights. “My wardrobe consists of leggings, sweatshirts, jeans and sweaters.”
“Mom works on her computer all day. Every day, even the weekends.” Wesley scratched his cheek. “Then she wears the same work clothes to the grocery store and on the basketball court when we play at Ben’s house. But I have to change my school clothes all the time.”
For the past year, Nichole had worked on her home computer to build the In A Pinch app. Determined not to go back to her old nine-to-five working life, Nichole had donated her business clothes after she’d quit her full-time job. Now she had no clothes to reenter the job market and a bit more regret than anticipated over her donation exuberance.
“When is your meeting?” Josie tilted her head and eyed Nichole.
“Tomorrow evening.” Nichole bit her bottom lip. She needed more time to shop for casual active wear online. How was she going to find an outfit in one afternoon?
“This is my first emergency retail session with girlfriends in...well, ever. I can’t wait.” Pleasure sparked from Josie’s grin up into her eyes and brightened her voice. “There’s no time to waste.”
What if Nichole was wasting Brooke’s and Josie’s time? And the investors’. Nichole locked her knees and blocked the doubt leaching into her. The moment for doubt had passed when she’d handed in her resignation letter.
A large pickup truck pulled into the no-parking zone and honked. Wesley shouted, “That’s my ride.” At the curb, he yelled to Ben and his dad, “Hurry! We need to leave before they make us go shopping too.”
The passenger window rolled down and Dan Sawyer leaned over from the driver’s side. “We’re off to do important boy things. Enjoy your afternoon.”
Brooke blew a kiss to Dan, her boyfriend. “We plan to have more fun.”
“Not likely,” Dan said. The boys’ laughter burst from the truck. Dan grinned, rolled up the window and pulled away.
“Time to shop.” Brooke opened the door to Next Level and waved them inside. She whispered to Nichole, “Stop overthinking this and at least try to have fun.”
“Overthinking is what I do.�
�� What Nichole had always done her entire life. Overanalyzing allowed her to make solid decisions and avoid risks. She’d never discovered any kind of reward in risks. But she’d risked with her app. And now she had to find the reward.
* * *
ONE HOUR LATER, the dressing room of the department store looked more like Nichole’s chaotic closet, making her reconsider not having joined the boys for their version of fun instead. Nichole slipped on a blazer and stepped out to face Josie and Brooke.
Brooke tapped her chin. “It’s better.”
Nichole tugged on the sleeves. “They’re too short.” Like the dress before. And the slacks before that.
Josie moved to Nichole’s side and rolled the sleeves in neat folds toward her elbows. She ran her fingers over the exposed silk inner lining. “Now it’s functional and fun.”
Nichole turned toward the mirror. Her leggings and sweatshirt had been replaced by a black pencil skirt, tailored blouse and blazer. The red pin-striped lining offered a fresh break in an otherwise conservative outfit. Nichole looked like an executive. Sweat beaded against her lower back.
Looking and being were not nearly the same thing. She was supposed to take charge at her meeting. Seasoned leaders delegated. Inspired. And had grit.
Nichole’s grit was more like the pebbles in Wesley’s fish tank: slippery and easy to rinse down the drain. “This blazer will be too hot.”
“Not likely in this weather.” Brooke rubbed her hands together as if feeling chilled.
“You could remove it at dinner.” Josie unbuttoned the blazer and adjusted Nichole’s blouse. “That’s the advantage of layers.”
“I sweat when I get nervous. It’s not a good look for a silk blouse.” Which was why Nichole preferred to layer moisture-wicking sportswear. She fiddled with a button on the blazer. “I passed out before my graduation speech.”
Brooke grimaced from one of the chairs. “Those gowns and stage lights are really hot.”
“I was backstage. Sitting down.” Nichole shook her head. She’d frozen and panicked on the theater stage once too and disappointed her mother, the choreographer of the show, and her father, the director of the entire production. Nichole had moved in with her grandparents the following week, permanently. True, she’d only been six at the time. Still, Nichole had avoided the spotlight ever since. She’d always lacked her mother’s grace and poise and hadn’t inherited her father’s charisma. “Who passes out sitting down?”
Brooke and Josie exchanged a look.
“Then I introduced myself as Michole Hoore to the entire graduating class, their families and friends. Not Nichole Moore.” Nichole slapped her hands over her hot cheeks. “Who does that?”
“Be serious,” Brooke said.
“I am.” Nichole pressed her palms against her skin, pushing the old mortification back inside her.
Why had she ever believed she could negotiate the sale of her computer program to a pair of savvy business investors? She should’ve learned her lesson two years ago at that fiasco of a sales pitch. Of course, back then In A Pinch had only been an idea. Regardless, she’d failed to get the investors to see her vision. To believe in her. Now she had an actual program, built and functioning. What if they still couldn’t believe in her? She’d have to tell Wesley and her grandparents she’d failed.
“I’m a train wreck around strangers.” Nichole sighed into her hands. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can do this.” Brooke wrapped her arm around Nichole’s shoulder. “We just need to find you some reinforcement.”
“Like a bodyguard. To protect me from myself,” Nichole said.
Brooke met Nichole’s gaze in the mirror, her voice serious. “Or even better, a personal negotiator.”
“That could work. Just like this.” Josie lifted up a fitted dress and pressed it into Nichole’s hands. “We saved the best for last.”
“It’s red.” Chili-pepper red. Nichole avoided spicy food. It made her face crimson and her stomach hurt.
“It’s bold,” Josie countered.
“Confident,” Brooke added.
“Everything I’m—”
Brooke cut her off. “Everything you’re going to be. You’re going to make those investors pay double for your program. Use the extra money to pay off your grandparents’ mortgage fund, Wesley’s college account and take us all on an exotic vacation.”
“That’s an excellent plan,” Josie said. “No one ever takes enough vacations.”
“There’s only one problem.” Nichole removed the blazer and revealed the twin sweat marks on the lovely blouse. “I’m panicked right now. With you guys! What’s going to happen tomorrow?”
“We already told you.” Brooke pushed Nichole toward the dressing room. “You try the dress on, and we’ll find you a personal negotiator.”
“It’s sleeveless.” Josie called out. “No embarrassing sweat marks. Oh, and I also found the perfect overcoat.”
Nichole sighed. “We aren’t leaving until I try this on, are we?”
Josie and Brooke laughed.
Nichole took the dress and stepped inside the dressing room. Meanwhile, Brooke and Josie tossed out names of friends for Nichole’s personal negotiator like pennies in a wishing well.
She hung the skirt, blouse and blazer back on the hangers, then sank onto the small bench. Her head dropped between her knees. A position she’d found herself in more than once growing up. Every time she’d been forced to step onto a stage for a holiday show in elementary school or a choir performance in middle school. Finally, in high school, she’d learned to raise her hand first to make her presentation to her class and then she’d excuse herself to the bathroom, until the urge to faint had passed.
The only time she’d truly fainted had been before her valedictorian speech. She’d opened her eyes to find herself cradled in the arms of the one person she’d never known to be intimidated by anything: Chase Jacobs. She’d been his tutor throughout high school. He’d been her...
Nichole shoved off the bench and reached for the dress. She was an adult. A single mother and hard worker. This wasn’t high school. This was her life. Chase Jacobs was a successful professional football player. He’d accomplished his dreams, despite the obstacles. Surely, Nichole could do the same.
She slipped on the dress, maneuvered until she reached the zipper on the back, then zipped her long hair inside the teeth. Her head tweaked backward at an uncomfortable angle, Nichole shuffled out of the dressing room. “This is why I like wearable workout clothes.”
“But life is more than a workout.” Brooke freed Nichole’s hair and directed her toward the full-length mirror. “This is the dress that’s going to get you everything you want.”
“The dress is its own accent piece. Add earrings or a bracelet, but not both.” Josie handed her a fitted black overcoat. “And beautiful shoes.”
“Definitely.” Brooke nodded. “We’ll find those next.”
“I have shoes,” Nichole argued. The dress was bold. Confident. Everything Nichole was determined to be. The price tag under her arm scratched against her skin, making her squirm.
“Not shoes that say, ‘I’m tall and you are just going to have to deal with it.’” Brooke set her hands on her hips and eyed Nichole.
No. She didn’t have those kinds of shoes.
“You can wear flats or heels,” Josie assured her. “But Brooke is right. People are already checking your feet to see if you have heels on or if you are just that tall. If people are looking at your feet, make your shoes memorable.”
“I never considered that.” Nichole glanced at her bare feet. The ones usually contained in running shoes or boots.
“That’s why we’re here.” Brooke clasped her hands together. “What’s it going to be?”
Nichole inhaled, deep and filling like their yoga instructor taught them, and settl
ed into her decision. “Both outfits. I want options.”
Brooke and Josie high-fived.
Josie smiled. “Time to shoe shop.”
At the third shoe store, Nichole had a pair of stunning flats and a pair of elegant heels in cloth shopping bags. Brooke and Josie declared no shopping spree a true success without a celebratory dinner. Tucked into a booth at Rustic Grille, the debate continued over who could be Nichole’s personal negotiator.
Brooke gave her order to the waiter and handed him their menus. Her fingers drummed on the table. “If only Dan wasn’t heading back up north with his dad later tonight, he would’ve gone with you.”
“Theo doesn’t get back from the east coast until Friday,” Josie explained. “And I have dress fittings for my working clients scheduled well into the evening tomorrow night.”
“And I’m on babysitting duty. Wesley is spending the night with Ben and me.” Brooke’s frown intensified. “There has to be someone.”
“Not that you need anyone,” Josie rushed on.
Nichole nodded. Even she admitted she liked the idea of a personal negotiator. At the very least, someone on her side in case she misplaced her backbone.
“Let’s run back through Mia’s guest list from her Christmas party,” Brooke suggested. “You don’t want a stranger.”
“You need to take someone you can trust.” Josie swirled her straw in her soda.
Trust. That was a loaded word. Nichole had trusted few people in her past, and even then, each had proven to be a mistake. It hadn’t helped that she’d loved those same people and they’d broken her heart too. Had she ever really trusted anyone? One person, but that was in high school. People changed.
The personal negotiator name-dropping paused only to allow them to sample one another’s dinner choices.
The table cleared and desserts ordered, Josie stared at her phone and cringed. “My model just canceled for Tuesday morning’s photo shoot. The pictures were supposed to be for my new website.”
“Can you get someone else?” Brooke asked.
“It’s too late. These gowns were designed specifically for a tall bride.” Josie squeezed her forehead and paled. “I wanted to showcase that I have gowns for every height and every size, even petite. And I’m scheduled for a dozen bridal expos starting this month.”
Her Surprise Engagement Page 2
