A Dress to Die For

by Margaret Evans

  Kelly Rogers and Erica Rollins, also in bunny ears—but not tails—ran two face-painting tables which had queues down the sidewalk from the school and almost around the corner for kids wanting to look like decorated egg-faces. Jenna joined them to move things along more quickly.

  The big bunny the Fab Four made for picture taking was an enormous success, and there were lines of children waiting for Eric Williams to take their pictures. He texted the photos to the parents, so they all got their pictures on the spot. His wife Susan helped the kids get their faces centered in the face hole and giving them her bright smile, calling out, “Say cheese”!

  Erica caught one boy trying to peek up the shorts legs the bunny wore. She just laughed and shoved him away toward the eggs and other activities.

  Parents and other townsfolk lined the perimeters of the event and crowded the tables loaded with water bottles and small sandwich snacks. That’s where Laura Keene was: at the refreshment tables.

  Just as Connor found Laura, the bell rang and the little tots scooted randomly about, looking for eggs and squealing with delight whether they found them or not. Some fell down but got up again, helped by their parents or a bigger kid, and off they continued in search of treats. Some forgot to retrieve their baskets and needed help in finding them. Others ran right past the eggs in the grass because they were happy just to be running. All in all, it was a delightful thing to watch.

  Connor laughed.

  “They look like the Keystone Kops.”

  “Isn’t it fun? But you know what? I’d like to turn this over to Rina Holm next year.”

  He gave her a look.

  “Who’s organizing Founder’s Day and the Fourth of July thing—that three-day event?” he inquired.

  “Somehow, I got put on the committee again…”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t ask you a question.”

  “The answer’s still no.”

  “Oh, come on, Connor. You know you’ll bring in a lot of money in the dunk tank, and I can’t come up with enough with my small efforts to fix the brass railings. No one else here is running a fund-raiser for the police station. I’ve only managed to raise $1,752 so far—not counting Easter sales—and I’m running out of ideas. Everybody’s focused on helping out the schools and the senior assisted living place. Even the big silent auction we just had wasn’t for the police station. It was for the nurses’ building at the hospital that needs major plumbing renovations.”

  He was silent a moment.

  “On one condition,” he began and noticed her eyes light up.

  “Anything. You name it. Well, okay, not anything, but you know what I mean.”

  “No backtracking on this, Laura. You will personally keep the kids in line, take tickets, prevent pandemonium. You. Agreed? I see pandemonium, and I will walk.”

  She almost jumped for joy, but it was her job today to help ensure there was a successful egg hunt, so she had to settle for what she thought was a silent jump for joy.

  Connor saw the silent jump for joy in the grin on her face and in her fists shaking slightly; he looked away, realized what he was getting into.

  “We can also ask Sam and Sven to rotate with you.”

  “Sven won’t agree.”

  “What if I delegate the task to you to convince him to do his share?”

  “I can probably get Sam or Mo to agree, but I wouldn’t get any hopes up about Sven.”

  “Well, I know you’ll give it your best efforts.”

  He knew it was for a necessary good cause but hoped it was the only time in his whole life he would have to do something like this. If she hadn’t been here he wouldn’t have done it at all, but he knew it was a far, far better thing that she was.

  • • •

  Another man showed up for the Easter Egg Hunt…to get a good, long peek at Laura Keene; it shocked him that he felt nothing at all. Shouldn’t he feel something? Isn’t that what he read online about twins separated at birth?

  One day he will have to go up and talk to her, but he did wonder why he felt nothing. Shouldn’t a twin, albeit a fraternal twin, feel something?

  Perhaps it would change when he actually met her.

  Now he was getting anxious to go to her shop and talk to her.

  forty-five

  Three of the Fab Four stood back to look at her.

  It was the hair to end all stylings.

  It was the nails done to perfection, gleaming at the tips of her fingers.

  It was the makeup, not much, but just enough to enhance her natural looks.

  And lastly, it was the dress: a princess’s dress.

  The doorbell rang and Laura jumped.

  “Laura—”

  “I’ll trip and fall down these stairs. You know I will. I’ll break my nose, tear my dress, smash at least two nails—”

  Jenna took her by the shoulders, looked her in the eye.

  “Laura, the staircases in my house are specially designed for safety and comfort. Nobody has ever fallen down them. Many women in stilettos have descended them many times, including me, without a single mishap. You’ve been up and down them millions of times yourself. I hear Reynolds answering the door. He has strict instructions when to photograph the two of you. Just walk slowly down the staircase, holding one rail in one hand and letting the other flow with you, all as if you were floating.”

  “How do we know it’s Connor at the door?”

  “I hear them talking.”

  They each gave Laura a hug and wished her a wonderful evening with Connor at the prom.

  She began her descent and what Erica called the “grand entrance.”

  Unbeknownst to Laura, two videographers were hiding in the wings capturing both her descent and Connor’s reaction. It was a good thing that neither knew about the arrangement.

  Connor spotted Laura before she spotted him. He watched her step around the corner and descend the wide, curving staircase, running his eyes from the top of her hair to the floor. There was no cop on his face tonight. His head tipped back slightly when he saw her, and ever so slightly, his lips almost parted.

  Traditional prom pictures were taken of the two of them standing in the foyer, Laura’s arm looped through Connor’s, and a honey-colored orchid at her wrist.

  The ride to the prom was quiet.

  • • •

  The chaperones were seated in their own area. Connor and Laura arrived just after his parents did, and they sat together at one of the larger tables.

  As parent chaperones arrived, introductions were made, and everyone settled at the various tables, watching as the teenagers arrived in their beautiful gowns, some of which were split to the waist, Laura noted. She was glad she hadn’t chosen such a dress. Connor’s boss, Chief Arthur Mallory, arrived with his wife Brenda who was dripping in jewelry that sparkled from neck, ears, wrists, and fingers; they were all introduced and parked themselves three tables away from Laura and the Fitzpatricks.

  When the music started up, the kids began to pair off and some went straight for the dance floor. Others continued their socializing, drank punch, and rearranged with whom they sat, often more than once. It was interesting to watch. But everyone looked happy and all the young girls looked beautiful.

  Laura noticed more than once that Chief Mallory’s wife, Brenda, sat alone at her table, in fact, had been sitting alone for about ten minutes at one point.

  “I should go over and say hello to her,” Laura commented to Michael Fitzpatrick, her table partner at the moment. Connor and his mother had gone to hobnob with some parents.

  “Leave it, Laura. Don’t go there.” He put an arm around the top edge of her chair and held onto her shoulder, preventing her from getting up.

  She couldn’t read his look but trust
ed the years she had known him.

  He got a call he had to take and rose, giving her a final warning look before striding toward the lobby.

  Laura amused herself by watching the teenagers dance, the pretty prom dresses the girls wore, the boys in tuxes. Streamers, balloons, and twinkling lights were everywhere. It was magical. Her attention was caught by a shadow across her table, now blocking her enjoyment of the scene.

  “Laura.”

  It was Chief Mallory, and she rose to speak with him, lest he sit at their table which she didn’t think appropriate.

  “How is everything going?” he asked, all glassy eyes and smiling the smile of a man who’s had a few drinks, although she wondered if he’d actually gone all the way to the hotel bar to get his, since there was no bar in this ballroom. And he’d done it in a remarkably short period of time, unless he’d begun before he left home, or carried a flask in his pocket. The prom had only been going on for about an hour.

  “Great. This is my first experience as a chaperone, and it’s very interesting.”

  At that moment, two things happened at once, and Laura caught them both, one in the corner of her left eye and the other, in the corner of her right.

  Brenda Mallory was marching over from her table toward her husband, but Connor marched faster from the right and inserted himself between Laura and his boss.

  “Laura, here’s your punch. Sorry it took me so long. Sir,” he said, nodding to Mallory. He swept Laura away from his boss and that boss’s wife quickly and cleanly.

  “I trust you one hundred percent that that had to happen, but I do think you owe me an explanation,” she informed him, looking into the cup of punch that was nearly empty and obviously not one he had filled to bring to her.

  He lowered his voice and bent to her ear.

  “That little encounter would not have had a happy ending. She keeps him on a short leash, and you might have ended up with an ‘accidental’ drink spilled all over you or a hole in your foot from her stiletto heels. It wouldn’t have been pretty. The hole in your foot would have required an ambulance and quite possibly surgery.”

  Her eyes grew big and she swallowed. “You’re kidding,” she began but saw the slight shake of his head. “Wow. Here’s your almost-empty drink back.”

  “You’re welcome for saving you, and I will get you a full cup, but let’s head over to the other side of the ballroom for a while and give Mrs. Mallory a little time to cool down. We can dance around, watching the kids without their realizing it.”

  “How do you do that without letting on?”

  “Watch me.”

  • • •

  Connor was really good at it, Laura decided, as they whirled around the dance floor, showing off their salsa skills to the surprise of many of the students; more than once, they ended up with a spotlight on them and applause at the end of a dance. They alternately spent time at the punch and snack table and dancing to different music, with Connor’s eyes rarely off the kids except when he twirled Laura. Perhaps because of his training at the academy, his experience in doing this in the past, or maybe he was just good at doing one thing and making it look like another. Or he could have been an exceptional multi-tasker. She decided she’d have to be really careful in the future if she didn’t want him to see something she was doing. Perhaps it would be best if she just didn’t do anything in his vicinity, such as planning a surprise birthday party. Apparently, he didn’t miss a trick.

  The pair returned to the table they shared with Connor’s parents. Almost immediately, a pretty young teen came up to them, in distress.

  “Can someone help me? My name is Patricia. I don’t know what to do.”

  Laura rose immediately, took the key Connor offered her, and showed the girl to a small office off the hall that led from the ballroom to the main hotel lobby. It had been reserved for the police and other chaperones should any incidents occur during the evening and require discussion or action, or a need arise for a private interview.

  “Patricia?” Laura prompted. “Call me Laura. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  It was a long story the young woman told and it took her so long to relate that Connor joined them when they didn’t return within a few minutes.

  “Do we need the police?” Patricia asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Laura said, touching Connor’s arm. “But we may benefit from the male perspective that Sergeant Fitzpatrick can provide.”

  Connor leaned back against a wall as far away from Patricia as possible in the little office and crossed his arms.

  “How can I help?”

  Laura repeated a shortened version of Patricia’s story. The girl had bought a dress for the prom hoping her friend Brian would ask her to be his date. But before he could ask Patricia, a popular boy named Troy asked Patricia to be his date. When she hesitated to accept, Troy told her that Brian was already going to the prom with Suzanne. So she accepted Troy’s offer. Once they got to the prom, however, Troy ditched her and wouldn’t dance with her, spending all of his attention and time with Suzanne, supposedly Brian’s date. When Patricia walked over to the likewise abandoned Brian, they compared notes. He wanted to ask Patricia to be his date for the prom, but Suzanne approached him, saying that Patricia was going with Troy. So Brian said he would take Suzanne, but she ditched him as soon as they arrived, wouldn’t dance with him, and turned her full attention to Troy.

  Connor looked intrigued. Typical teen behavior, he was thinking until Laura continued.

  “Suzanne’s parents won’t let her go out with Troy because they don’t like him. So it looks like they pulled a switcheroo on everyone, but now Brian and Patricia don’t know what to do.”

  And that was the shortened version.

  “Go find Brian and smile and tell him you have something you want him to see, and then bring him here,” Fitzpatrick said. In her absence, he turned to Laura. “We need both of them.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Has this ever happened before, to your knowledge?”

  He sighed.

  “With kids, you never know what they’re going to cook up. It’s always a surprise and never as simple as throwing a bunch of water balloons over a fence.”

  She hid a smile with her hand at the memory.

  Patricia returned with Brian who looked puzzled at seeing Connor in the office.

  “Do we need the police?”

  “Male perspective,” Patricia told him, as if she had thought of it.

  Laura led the discussion.

  “Okay, so we know what happened and what they did, but not what they plan for the rest of the evening. I know you both want to get even with them for the trickery, but you have to realize that come Monday morning and every day until the end of the school year, you will have to face them and their friends. Since they’re popular, or what my mother used to call the rude group, there’s a fan base. If you get some revenge on them, they could make things very difficult for both of you and it might even continue outside of school once you graduate. This is a small town. Let’s talk this through. What would happen if you two just danced, ate, talked, had a good time this evening, and then returned to your pretend dates for the trips home?”

  Brian frowned.

  “Suzanne’s father made it very clear to me that I bring her to the prom and directly home at the end. Suzanne’s already told me she wants to go to some friend’s house instead of home and I can drive her there or not.”

  “The obligation of her father’s wishes is one you have to honor,” Fitzpatrick put in.

  “I tried,” Brian responded. “She said she didn’t care what her father said and that was my problem, not hers.”

  Laura and Connor exchanged a quick glance.

  “Okay,” Laura continued. “If Brian doesn’t take Suzanne directly h
ome when the prom’s over, that could escalate into a legal problem for the school and quite possibly a lawsuit naming Brian or any number of other people associated with the prom. What does her father do?”

  “He’s some big corporate exec,” Patricia added.

  “Then I’ll make sure that Brian takes Suzanne home right after the prom. From the look on Ms. Keene’s face, she has some more suggestions for you,” Connor finished.

  Laura smiled at the young couple. How they looked at each other showed real affection and distress at their current situation.

  “I think it might be a good idea if you avoided any personal contact with your pretend dates when it’s time to go home. Brian, you hold the car door open for Suzanne but don’t offer her your hand. Walk behind her up to the front door and simply wait for her to open it and go inside. Snap a picture with your phone when her back is turned. Then say good-night and get back in your car and drive away. Patricia, when Troy brings you to your home, if he tries to get out of the car to open your door, say something like, ‘I’ve got this’ or ‘I’m good’ and get out by yourself, walk up to your front door, unlock, open, wave to him if you like, and go inside. If you get a chance, snap a shot with your phone as he drives off.

  “Here’s what you do after the last dance,” Laura continued, giving them the details. “And now, you two have a wonderful evening together. Plan your next real date.”

  • • •

  Connor and Laura remained in the little office, both lost in silent thought for several minutes, perhaps about a past that hadn’t happened for them or a future with all its promise.