14
What a commotion. And to think that reading about Jay Gatsby in class had set this gala in motion. I’d have to be more careful. About a lot of things. Over the last few days, that morning ride with Marco had replayed in my mind a million times. I felt so confused.
But first, I had to deal with this party. Outside, the staff had been busy setting up tables on either side of the fountain and arranging chairs. I couldn’t help checking on them from the balcony. A crew had put down a portable wooden dance floor hours ago. The trees and bushes were strung with lights. The orchestra was tuning their instruments as I struggled to get into my dress without tearing it. Why would any seamstress put covered buttons up the back where a woman couldn’t reach?
Just then the door shot open, banging against the wall and sending me through the ceiling. “Lexi, be careful. You’ll damage the walls.” That’s all I’d need––a bill for damages when we left to go home.
“What’s wrong?” Lexi’s oldFrozenbathrobe billowed around her as she crossed the floor with her long legs. “I thought you’d be ready by now.”
“These buttons are impossible.” Turning, I motioned to my back.
“That’s the problem? Mom, I thought you were dying in here.” Mumbling she turned me around. Maybe someday she’d be patient with me. But this wasn’t that day.
“Why did I agree to this? What a foolish idea. We won’t know anyone.” I tried to turn, but Lexi wouldn’t let me. “Maybe I’ll have a tray sent up. Stay in my room.”
“What? Absolutely not.” The buttons that hadn’t behaved were fastening nicely under my daughter’s fingers. “Since when does a Newhart chicken out? There. Finished.” She stepped back, looking pleased.
I slowly turned. “I’m being practical. What’s with the robe? Why aren’t you dressed?”
Lexi gave me the once-over with her eyes. “You’re definitely going. That dress looks fabulous on you. Look.” And she gestured to the long mirror.
I stepped closer. A breeze wafted through the open french doors, and the wide skirt of the gown fluttered around me in soft waves, the tiny gems winking up at me. “Oh, my word.” I fingered the neckline, modest but revealing. “I can’t wear this. Why I look like…”
“Cinderella.” Lexi circled me, tugging here and there.
“Exactly.” I studied the mirror. “How can I go looking like a fairy tale? Maybe I should have chosen another movie––something that isn’t childish. Sleek. Sophisticated.” At least, that’s what I pictured.
“Why? Everyone knows the story of Cinderella.” Lexi wore a secret smile. “Mom, you look amazing. Wait ‘til M–everyone sees you.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit much?” The skirt was so full. But I did like the dainty cap sleeves. Any toning in my arms was strictly hereditary. I never had the time or money to work out at one of those places where the girls wore spandex and worried about stomach rolls that weren’t even there. My mother had looked physically fit well into her mature years. Scrubbing her own floors had helped those arms.
“Did you bring Grandma’s pearls?”
“Yes, I didn’t have time to take them to the safety deposit box.” Our neighborhood had experienced some break-ins during the last couple of months before we left. Pulling out the lower drawer of the elegant dresser, I dug under my lingerie until I felt the frayed silk bag. “Here you go. You can do the honors.”
Taking the pearls out, Lexi placed them around my throat and fastened the safety clasp. Fingering my mother’s precious pearls, I could almost hear her in my ear. “Things are what they are, Christina. If you can’t change it, roll with it.” Mom had been a roll-with-it sort of person, although she could dig her heels in when it counted, like buying me my first two-wheel bike. Mom and Dad had always come through for me when it counted.
While I stood there dreaming, Lexi started pulling at my hair. “What are you doing?” I’d spent an hour pinning my hair into this tight knot.
“Mom, you have beautiful hair. You have to wear it down. What the heck is this? A french twist?” Closing my eyes, I felt her tug at my hair.
“I wore it this way to my senior prom.” Thank goodness my high school had invited students to come without dates or I never would have gone. That night I’d worn a french twist with the pink tea-length dress that my mother had sewn for me. Giggling nervously with my girlfriends at our table, I’d tried not to pay attention to the couples swirling across the floor.
Plugging in a curling iron and grabbing a brush from the dressing table, Lexi went to work.
Seeing that intent look on her face made me nervous. “Lexi, don’t go crazy now. This is me, your mother.”
“Exactly. And it’s about time you lived up to your potential.”
“You are t-tellingmethat?” I tried not to smile. How many times had I said that to Lexi?
“Keep your eyes shut.” She stopped working until I did just that. What was I doing? I felt foolish, as if I were playing dress-ups. “That’s enough, honey,” I finally said. “We should get down there. The orchestra has started to play.”
Lexi steered me to the mirror. “Like it?”
“Oh my.” I hardly recognized myself. Long curls tumbled to my shoulders. In the fading light, my dark blonde hair caught a few highlights. Lexi swept my long bangs to one side and stepped back. I looked so different. My friend Reena’s voice sounded in my ear.Maybe this is the night for different.
“I’ll be right back.” Lexi bustled from the room.
