Hysterical Blondeness (14 page)

“That’s a nice bonus for you, Patricia. You’ve done very well, my girl. You are a quick learner.” Madam seemed to recover from her gleeful moment and smoothed back her slightly loosened
gray hair into behaving again. “Now go have a long lunch and enjoy yourself.”

Patricia walked up to the loft to retrieve her beaded black sweater. Mandy gave her a cocky little look, but Patricia just smiled at her. She’d have to hunt down Pinky and tell her all about her great sale. She grabbed her squishy red clutch out of the lock-drawer and made tracks out of the fine jewelry department.

“Take as long as you want, dear,” Madam called after her.

What a shame Paulie wasn’t in town, they could all have a celebration lunch at the Cove, their favorite hole in the wall a few blocks away. She missed him.

The escalator seemed slow as molasses in January today. She passed by the snotty second-floor designer department and walked past lingerie to the other end. Out of the corner of her eye, as she tried not to look, she saw Lizbeth in a striking red sheath, showing a sexy black lace teddy to some sleazy-looking guy. Poor thing. No wonder she had ambitions of escaping her job in style.

Of course, she herself had the same ambition. But she wanted love, too. She did. She wasn’t the
kind of person to marry for money, was she? As she stepped onto the up escalator she glanced back at Lizbeth. Lizbeth caught her eye and gave her a little wave—a very Apple Blossom Queen wave. Her white chiffon sleeves billowed elegantly as they puffed out of the arm openings of the red sheath. It made her look like Lauren Bacall, but Lizbeth was even prettier than Lauren.

Patricia laughed at herself for always thinking in terms of old movie stars instead of modern ones. She hit second-floor men’s and their little men’s world, and headed toward Pinky’s behind-the-scenes alteration world.

She poked her head through the door. “Pinky?”

“Miss Pinky in bridal.” One of the very businesslike Korean ladies looked up at her and delivered the information. Pinky had learned to speak phrases from several different languages working in this department: Russian, Thai, Korean, and one other from a very interesting woman—Polish, maybe.

“Thank you,” Patricia answered. Oh my God, bridal; the department that every girl in Nordquist’s casually finds her way to after she turns twenty-five, Patricia thought. Just looking, they all say. Just hunting for Red October.
Just got my submarine periscope up in case I catch
the guy
.

Including her. Just having my little Vera Wang, Kenneth Pool moment, excuse me while I have a Priscilla of Boston breakdown. Bridal had its own special corner on the third floor along with ladies’ apparel, children’s apparel, and children’s shoes.

They must have figured to catch the brides-to-be on the way out with the pretty pink layettes and cribs. Then they’d be mommies-to-be faster and come back to the source like salmon to the spawning grounds.

Patricia thought they should have put bridal on six with china, linens, and the restaurant for a quick drink after the fitting, and of course occasionally Santa Claus would be up there as well, but they picked three.

There it was, the rustle of billowing silk, the scent of fear, The bridal department. Patricia slowly made her way around the sample gown displays and back toward the dressing rooms. Pinky would be on her knees, no doubt, marking the hem of some eager girl’s gown.

But Pinky bumped right into her. “
Patricia
, what brings you to bridal? Daydreaming?”

“I’m after
you
. “I made a big fat sale and I’m celebrating. Can I take you to lunch at the Cove?”

“Free lunch always interests me, my friend. Care to browse before we go?”

“You?” Patricia couldn’t believe it.

“I’m just window-shopping.” She looked sheepish, which was hard for Pinky to do.

“Oh, are we stuck on a certain scientist?”

“We are stuck. He was a champ at the movies, and we haven’t stopped talking since. That doc that turned you into a Q-Tip is quite the guy,” Pinky said.

“So let’s find the least offensive bridesmaid dresses and decide what we’d make each other wear,” Patricia whispered.

They scurried like schoolgirls to the more colorful selections.

“Oooh, pleated silk.” Pinky ran her fingers along the ruffled edges. Shall I put you in ice blue? I could have a snowflake wedding with white and ice blue and fake rabbit fur, or feathers or something. Although feathers make me look like a short Vegas showgirl.”

“I’m sorry we fought. I’m glad we could all sit down yesterday to a bowl of Halloween gumbo and scare all the little trick-or-treater
kids without even putting a costume on.” Patricia gave Pinky a hug.

“I’m sorry, too. I was mean. I want you to know if you really think Brett is the man for you, I’ll be your bridesmaid.” Pinky hugged her back.

“Look at this one, it’s a Lazaro. Oh my God, it’s like a mocha latte coffee thing with whipped cream. It has a little train, even. And look how the white lace stands out against the coffee underskirt. Yummy,” Pinky swooned.

“I’m seeing a whole new side of you.” Patricia looked at her friend’s happy expression and smiled.

“You’ve seen me go crazy in a fabric store before, I just have a deep admiration for textiles. And look at this, it has a lace jacket so my Russian shot-putter arms wouldn’t stick out like neon.”

“Oh, we can’t pick the second dress we see, that’s just not right.” Patricia riffled through the racks, pushing hangers back to get a full view of each dress. “Bleack, bridesmaid’s hell.” She pulled a particularly fluffy peach-toned southern number out and showed Pinky.

“Promise me you’ll never do that to me.”

“Only if you keep being my friend through thick and thin.”

“I swear no matter what shape Brett’s penis is, I will still be your friend,”

They busted up laughing and kept bridesmaid-gown-shopping, which, of course, led Patricia into the actual wedding gown section.

She saw something that made her heart betray her shallow bridal-lust and her insides flip-flop with desire. “Pinky, oh God, Pinky, look at this.” Pinky ran over and gasped. The bodice had thick gold and bronze beading over a taupe ivory silk.

“I couldn’t even knock it off properly. It’s so amazing. That beading is stunning. You could do a whole red-and-gold-and-coffee-colored December wedding.”

“Still stuck on that coffee gown, are we? And wow, that’s so soon. This December?”

“Why not? Money can do a whole lot to make things happen fast.”

“I’d need a good six months. I could be a June bride,” she said. “Otherwise how would I fill out all those blanks in the wedding planner books?”

“There is that small detail of getting Brett to
ask you to marry him, too.” Pinky put her finger to her cheek and made a face at Patricia.

“Oh,
that
pesky detail.”

“Plus he has to get his cast off.”

“He’s getting much better. Yesterday he ate tomato soup through a straw, right through the wired-up jaw.”

“That must be exciting to watch. Here, try this on. It’s your size. The new shrunken Patricia size.”

“Twenty pounds off of me looks damn good.”

“Are you done swallowing horse pills?”

“My time is up. Halloween was the last day.”

“Oooh, that’s spooky.” Pinky raised her eyebrows. “So come on, try this on. I’ll tell Ginny we just want to play dress-up for a while.”

Pinky disappeared while Patricia pulled the sample gown down off the rack by its padded hanger. She didn’t dare look at the price tag. This was just for fun anyhow. The gown rustled as she carried it toward the dressing room.

Pinky was waiting for her in one of the large dressing rooms, holding a large crinoline petticoat. “These are better than the old ones. They’re light as a feather, see?” Pinky held up the gossamer satin petticoat. “Slip this on.” She
held out the petticoat. “The gown is strapless, so I brought this.” She handed Patricia a rather interesting strapless bra with a whole lotta push-up going on.

“Yikes.” Patricia took the bra.

“Don’t worry, you’ve got the goods for it. Speaking of goods, what did you sell today?”

“Three beautiful trillian-cut diamonds to one guy for his anniversary.”

“What are we talking here?”

“Twenty-nine thousand dollars. Madam said I could have as long a lunch as I wanted.”

“Good grief, I guess so. You earned your fine jewelry stripes today!” Pinky waited while Patricia stripped off her black skirt and sweater and climbed into the undergarments.

“Wow, so that’s what holds these dresses up.” She looked in the mirror.

“Suck your lips in—no lipstick on the samples.” Pinky rolled the dress up and placed it over Patricia’s head. It slid like the beautiful silk that it was, down her arms and into position. Pinky adjusted her and pulled the zipper up. They both looked in the mirror at her.

“Wow.”

“I look like a princess. A real live princess. This skirt is amazing. Look at that back detail and the way it runches up around my rear.” Patricia turned around on the small platform to see all sides of the dress.

“I know just the veil. I’ll be right back. Then we’ll go out to the big room. The light is better out there.”

Pinky was gone long enough for Patricia to practically cry over herself in this beautiful gown. She closed her eyes and imagined walking down the aisle with her father, seeing her sisters and Pinky in her coffee latte dress waiting for her at the altar, and there would be the groom, waiting to take her arm.

Paul looked so handsome.

Wait, not Paul, Brett.

Pinky ran into the room, a veil flying in the wind of her speed.

“Geez, Pinks, there’s no rush, I told you I can have as long as I want for lunch. And, well, we know you only work when you want to, so slow it down.”

“Shhhh,” Pinky shushed her. Pinky’s big brown eyes were wild.

“Are we in trouble?”

“No, you just need to be quiet and listen.”

Patricia rustled her princess self over to the dressing room door. Ear pressed to the thin wood, she heard voices.

“This one is pretty, but I want it fitted like a corset, just past my waist, then a big pouf of net on the bottom. Vera Wang had one in lace in her fall collection, with a dark green velvet ribbon,” the familiar voice said. Patricia could hear the swish of sample dresses.

“Oh yes, but we’re restocking for spring and summer at this point and I’m not sure if we can still order that model. You could buy the sample and have it fitted to you.”

“That’s Ginny,” Pinky whispered.

“So what’s the big deal?”

“Look for yourself.”

Patricia opened the dressing room door just wide enough to peer out with one eye. She smoothed back her skirt so she could get closer. Standing on the raised platform with mirrors surrounding her was Lizbeth in all her glory, swathed in white lace, tall and graceful, her hair pulled up into a soft cascade of blonde curls.

“
Shit.
” Patricia shut the door. Her heart thumped. She felt sick and dizzy like she was going to faint.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Pinky sat down on the platform. “Didn’t you tell me she’d take either brother?”

“I know she came to visit the Nordquists last night. I saw her pull into their driveway just as I was leaving. But I assumed it was Eric she was seeing. Mrs. Nordquist has been really nice to me lately, thanking me for cheering Brett up. I hope it hasn’t been
Lizbeth
cheering him up.”

“What a barracuda.”

“I have no room to criticize. We want the same thing.”

“Brett on a platter? You’d treat him better.”

“I have to find out.” Patricia took a deep breath, flung open the door, and stalked out of the dressing room. Lizbeth took a moment to recognize her, then looked like she was going to faint herself. Ginny actually stepped over and steadied her.

“So which one is it?” Patricia put her hands on her hips and looked up at Lizbeth, high on her pedestal platform.

“Eric proposed to me last night.”

“Oh, thank
God.
” Patricia actually put her hand to her forehead in relief. “When’s the wedding?”

“Christmas.”

“So soon?”

“If I wait much longer I won’t be able to fit into the dress.”

Patricia took that all in. She didn’t even want to ask. She didn’t want to know. She felt dizzy again.

“When is
your
wedding?” Lizbeth looked practically ill.

Patricia waved her off. “I’m just playing dress-up.”

Ginny gave her a look.

Lizbeth heaved a huge sigh, apparently relieved that Brett hadn’t gone off and gotten engaged on her. Patricia figured that left Lizbeth in the trump position. She got her Nordquist man first, and no one could say Brett dumped her, because she dumped him first and held her ground.

She seemed to recover herself. “Get me out of this gown,” she snapped at Ginny. “Well, if you play your cards right, we could have a double
wedding.” Lizbeth tried to act cheerful as she walked down the platform stairs.

“I’m in no rush.” Patricia thought the idea of having a double wedding with Lizbeth sounded as tempting as liver and onions.

“You should be.” Lizbeth looked her right in the eye. She gave a quick smile, then marched off to her dressing room with Ginny carrying the back of her train.

Patricia watched as Pinky gave Lizbeth a genuinely sympathetic look. Lizbeth huffed off.

Patricia motioned Pinky to come to her. She climbed up the platform and fluffed her skirts out in a very princesslike manner. Pinky stepped up next to her and adjusted the train to flow down nicely. Patricia gazed in the multiple mirrors, turning from side to side. The beaded bodice sparkled in the light.

“I think long gloves would look nice, don’t you?”

“Did I hear what I thought I heard?” Pinky asked.

“Lizbeth Summers has gone and gotten herself preggers, Pinky. Wasn’t she the resourceful girl?”

“Patricia, I hope for your sake that we either
turn a blind eye to who the coauthor of her pregnancy might be or get the facts straight and wish her well.”

“Grab your cocoa mocha latte dress, Pinky, let’s see what you’d look like as my maid of honor.”