Every Girl Gets Confused (18 page)

“I'm not,” Brady said. “They might not talk about it, but those two are meant to be together.”

“But they're as different as night and day,” I argued. “They disagree on . . . everything.”

“Not everything.” Brady grinned and gestured with his head.

I glanced at Madge and Stan, who stole another kiss while the customer wasn't looking.

“Well, there you go.” I turned back, shaking my head. “I can truly say I've seen everything now.”

“Not quite everything.” Alva's voice sounded behind me.

I turned to face her and realized she wasn't alone. Twiggy stood next to her. “What do you mean, Auntie?” I asked.

She shrugged. “If you ever see a fella hanging off my arm, then you can say you've seen everything. But I wouldn't go looking for that just yet. I gave up on the idea of romance a long time ago.”

“I think a lot of us did,” Twiggy said. “I was starting to wonder if I'd ever find Prince Charming. Then Beau showed up.”

“Yes, but you're, what—twelve? I'm in my eighties.”

“I'm twenty-seven, thank you very much.” Twiggy's lips curled up in a smile. “But it felt like years and years before I found someone.”

“Time is relative,” Brady said.

“Unless you're old.” Alva shook her head. “When you're old, time is not relative. It's anything but.” Her nose wrinkled. More than usual. “Anyway, forget I said anything. It's all right. I'm set in my ways. No room in my house for a man.”

“If he does show up, you might want to change the drapes in the lavender room.” Brady flashed her a playful smile. “Just saying.”

“What's wrong with my grape drapes? They're lovely.”

“Right, right.” Brady wrapped his arms around her. “If you're seriously looking for a man, we'll keep our eyes open. You'd be surprised how many brides come in with fathers in their golden years.”

“Golden years, my eye. I need someone in his platinum years. And such a fella doesn't exist.”

“You never know, Aunt Alva. Look at Reverend Bradford. Er, Pap-Paul Bradford.”

“He's the exception, not the rule.” She turned on her heels and headed to the ladies' room, hollering, “This old bladder waits for no one!”

“One day some lucky guy is gonna get a real prize in her.” Brady's words seemed teasing, but I could read the seriousness in his eyes. “She's one of the greatest women I've ever known.”

“Do you think she really
wants
a husband, though?” I asked.

Brady shrugged. “I would imagine she gets a little lonely sometimes. Her faith is strong and she doesn't seem like the needy sort, so it's probably more of an occasional thought than a deep longing.”

I thought about that before responding. “But wouldn't it be fun if God surprised her?”

“He can do it.” Twiggy let out a little squeal. “We should all pray.”

We turned to look at her.

“No, really. There's power in prayer, right? We should all pray that if God has someone for Alva, he will appear right out of the blue. It could happen.”

“Well, yes, but . . .”

“I for one believe in miracles,” Twiggy said. “I think we watched one happen today, in fact. So if God cares enough about our bridal shop to make sure we have a terrific day, surely he cares enough about Alva to bring her the perfect man.”

Okay then.

About three minutes later, Madge approached. “Hey, Katie, can you come up front for a few minutes? You know that Sanders girl, the one from San Antonio? They've sent her grandfather to pick up her veil. Poor old guy seems clueless. Want to come help him?”

“How old?” Twiggy asked.

“What does he look like?” Dahlia added.

Madge looked back and forth between them. “Too old for the likes of you. And besides, I thought you already had fellas.”

“No, not for us.” Twiggy laughed. “But I've got to see this for myself. My goodness, the Lord surely moves fast when we pray!”

I didn't think this would be an appropriate time to remind her that we hadn't even prayed yet. If she thought the elderly man at the front of the store was Alva's Prince Charming, so be it.

Before I could head up to the register, some commotion in the hallway caught my attention. Alva had come out of the restroom, wrestling with her girdle. When she turned around I noticed some of the fabric from her dress was hung up in her undergarments in the back. I gestured for her to fix it and she backed her way to the restroom once more.

“If Prince Charming is in the store, we need to get Cinderella ready for the ball,” Twiggy whispered. “Maybe I could convince her to put on a little lipstick?”

“Nah.” I shrugged. “If it's meant to be, he'll see beyond all of that.”

“Seriously?” Dahlia paled. “Well, I suppose that's one school of thought.”

I walked to the front of the store with my aunt in tow to visit with Mr. Everett Sanders of the San Antonio Sanderses. Before long we were engaged in conversation, not about wedding tiaras but about basketball. He was a huge basketball fan just like the others in his family. This, of course, bonded him to Alva at once, who had apparently forgotten the family's leanings. On and on they went, talking about basketball.

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Eduardo ap
proaching, gown in hand. His gaze narrowed when he saw Alva talking to the elderly Mr. Sanders.

“What is she looking at?” Eduardo's eyes narrowed to slits and I could read the disdain in his expression.

“Who?”

He gestured to Alva. “She seems captivated by something.”

“Oh, not something . . . someone.” I grinned. “I think she's got her eye on that fella over there. He's the grandfather of one of our customers.”

Eduardo grunted and swung the gown over his shoulder as he moved toward the register. He mumbled something in Spanish that I couldn't make out. Not that I really had time to focus on Eduardo right now. I had a lot more on my mind where Alva was concerned.

Perhaps we really were witnessing a miracle. Twiggy's faith had brought Mr. Right to Alva's door, just like a fairy tale.

Then again, not all fairy tales had happy endings, did they? Turned out Mr. Sanders was, like his son, not a Mavericks fan. This put Alva in a snit right away. She could hardly look at the man without grimacing. But I had to get the veil so that he could deliver it to his granddaughter.

“Alva, please keep him preoccupied until I get back,” I whispered.

She grunted.

When I returned with the veil, the two were embroiled in a dispute. It took Brady showing up to calm things down. When Mr. Sanders looked up, up, up at Brady James, he apparently decided to reconsider his earlier comments about the Mavericks, especially when he saw that Brady was hobbling.

The direction of the conversation shifted a bit, and finally I could tell that things were calming. Thank goodness. I'd hate to see this Spurs/Mavericks thing get out of hand.

“So much for our plans to find a happily ever after for Alva.” Twiggy shrugged. “I suppose it's safe to say those two are
not
a match made in heaven.”

“Oh, I don't know. What about that old saying that tries to convince us that opposites attract? There's some truth to that, right? I mean, I'm a small-town girl with no particular sports leanings who fell in love with a big-city basketball player. It happens.”

Had I really just said the words “fell in love” out loud? There I went exposing my feelings for all the world to see. Er, all my co-workers to see. But no one seemed to notice I'd said anything at all. They were all too busy arguing the finer points of Alva's love life, or lack thereof.

Minutes later Brady asked if he could talk with me in his office. I followed behind him as he hobbled on his crutches into the room, closed the door, and sat behind his desk.

“Have a seat, Katie.”

“Am I in trouble?” I eased down into a chair, every muscle aching.

“No.” He laughed. “I just thought you might like to take a load off. You've worked so hard today and I'm grateful. More grateful than you know. I feel like a real heel that I couldn't help more, but I'm so blessed that your brothers showed up and took care of the physical labor.”

“It went great.”

“I had a chance to talk to the reporter before he left. He took great notes. You were right all along, Katie. We didn't need to dispute the bride who tried to take us down. We just had to prove to the community that we're here for them. And today did that.”

“I'm so glad it all worked out.”

“Just so you know, there's going to be a story on channel
8 tonight. I think they even got a clip of you raffling off that one dress—you know, the one with the pink sash?”

“Ugh, no way! I'm going to be on the news?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “You were so busy having such a great time that you probably didn't notice the guy with the camera filming you.”

“I guess not. But it's fine. It's all for a good cause. Anything I can do to help.”

“Speaking of that, I want to talk to you about one more thing.” Brady leaned against the desk. “You and Alva have been great to pamper me and treat me like a guest, but I've overstayed my welcome.”

“W-what?”

“It's true. I'm getting around pretty good on the crutches now, and I think I'm ready to try this knee out at my own place.”

“The drapes getting to you?” I teased.

“No. I just think I need time to . . .” He paused and those beautiful eyes seemed to cloud over. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I kind of need some time to myself.”

“Ah.” I couldn't really think of anything else to say in response, so I left it at that.

“I have a lot going on in my head right now.” Brady rose and took a couple of steps away from me on his crutches.

I stood and walked toward him. “I'm sure you do, but do you really think it's wise to be by yourself right now? Being around other people is probably good for you.”

“Only to a certain extent, Katie. I have a lot to think about. And pray about. That's easier to do when I have time to myself.”

“I'm just worried about you, Brady. I want you to be okay.”

“I want me to be okay too. But I really think it's better if I go back to my place. I think I can manage the stairs with the
crutches now. And Stan said he'll come by Alva's tonight and help me get my stuff.”

“So you're going tonight?”

“Yeah. I want to sleep in my own bed.”

I couldn't fault him for that, but I had a sneaking suspicion there was more going on in that head of his. In spite of his attempts to act upbeat today, I'd noticed glimpses of pain in his eyes. Even during his stay with us, the good and bad moments had been all mixed up together. Some of that could be blamed on the meds. The rest I wasn't so sure of.

Hopefully, time alone would help and not hurt.

I want to tell the truth, and maybe that's why they trust me. When I was acting, I believed what I said . . . every line.

Doris Day

I
slept until after noon on Saturday. When I awoke, Alva fed me yummy chicken and dumplings she had prepared from scratch. Afterward a funny smile lit her face and I could read the mischief in her eyes.

“I know what you need, sweet girl. You need to go to the movies.”

“The movies?”

“Sure. It's Saturday. As a kid I often went to the show on Saturday evening. I still love a good movie. And I've heard
you can even get your tickets on the computer now. How do you like them apples? Can we go? Pretty please? You can ask Brady to come with.”

“To see a chick flick?” I laughed. “He's a guy, Aunt Alva. Trust me when I say he'd rather not.” That, and he'd just told me he wanted to be alone, hadn't he?

Alva cleaned the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “Well now, I don't know . . . Several of the fellas I know love a good romance. I had a long conversation with Eduardo earlier and he told me that he's a fan of Doris Day. He even met her in person.”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“Do you suppose any Doris Day movies are showing?”

I shook my head. “Um, probably not. We'll have to choose something else.”

“I suppose it doesn't matter, as long as there's no cussin' or killin'. I can't abide cussin' and killin'. If I wanted to see that, I'd turn on the evening news.”

And that was how we ended up seeing a ridiculously unbelievable romantic comedy starring a couple of Hollywood's most popular twenty-first-century superstars. Alva came out of the theater wide-eyed and a little shell-shocked. “That wasn't what I expected. Whatever happened to good, wholesome family stories? Cary Grant and Rock Hudson? I wasn't quite prepared to see that one scene . . . well, you know the one. For pity's sake, I thought I was going to have to sneak out for a potty break just to avoid the humiliation.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Alva. Unfortunately, there's a lot of that in movies these days.”

“Well then, next time we'll just rent the oldies but goodies.
An Affair to
Remember
.
Gone with the Wind
. You know, the good, clean ones.”

As we crossed the parking lot toward the car I noticed someone familiar.

“Eduardo!” I raised my hand and waved at him. He took several quick steps in our direction. “Were you just in the theater?”

“Yes.” He groaned. “I can't believe I paid almost ten dollars to watch that . . . that . . .”

“Exactly my sentiments.” Alva's nose wrinkled. “A waste of good money.”

“And time. I could've been working on that Doris Day gown instead of wasting my time on that ridiculous picture.” He shrugged. “Anyway, things aren't what they used to be.”

“That's for sure,” Alva said. “Nothing a double scoop of ice cream won't cure, though. Let's go drown our sorrows.”

“But it's freezing outside, Alva.”

“I know! That's the perfect time for ice cream.”

“What a lovely idea.” Eduardo extended his arm to help Alva across the parking lot. “I'll drive my car, if you like. There's an ice cream place not far from here. I know it well. Do you like rocky road, Alva?”

“It's fine, but I prefer mint chocolate chip. Just the right mix of minty and sweet. And it makes my breath kissably fresh.”

Kissably fresh? Was my aunt actually flirting with Eduardo?

I didn't have long to think about it because I felt my phone buzzing inside my purse. I saw Brady's number and smiled, then answered with a quick hello.

“Hey, Katie. Just wanted to make sure you got my earlier message about the ad in the
Tribune
. There was a typo in it.”

“Ah.” Okay, work-related stuff. “I'm sorry.”

“I corrected it. And by the way, I don't know if you heard, but that local ad sheet we've been running in the community paper has doubled in price. That's not good news.”

“I hadn't heard. Thanks for filling me in. How are you feeling, Brady?”

“Tired. And a little hung over from the medication.”

“Well, get as much rest as you can. And don't worry about the
Tribune
or the community paper. I've got them both covered.”

The rest of the evening seemed to go downhill after that. I tried to enjoy my ice cream but suddenly felt weary. I just wanted to get back home and sleep once more.

I did manage to crawl out of bed in time to attend church on Sunday. Strangely, Brady turned down my offer to pick him up and drive him there, so I sat alone during the service.

Lori-Lou called later that afternoon to explain that she'd skipped out on church because she wasn't feeling well. Pregnancy-related headaches had her in a quandary. I could hear the stress in her voice as we talked and wished I had time to help her with the kids, but with my workload so high, all I could do was offer to pray for her.

On Monday morning I checked in on Brady as the workday began. I couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't called me on Sunday, but I didn't mention it. Instead, I popped my head in his office door and clucked my tongue at him when I saw him slaving away at his computer. “I can't believe you're here. You should be home resting.”

He glanced up, but his fingers never stopped moving on the keys. “I'm going stir-crazy. I need to get my mind back on work. It's a saving grace right now, trust me.”

“I understand. And I'm here if you need me.”

He gave me a slight nod and went back to work. Maybe I'd better do the same. If I drowned my loneliness in work, all would be well. And boy, did I have a lot to do. The first thing on my agenda today? The Christmas window display—a lovely diversion. I should've done it weeks ago, but the bridal
extravaganza had taken precedence. I'd loaded up the window with sale items. Now I had to remove all of those and make a festive wintery display.

I'd planned the whole thing in my head already. I loved working on window displays, after all. A quick trip to the craft store after church yesterday had given me the perfect opportunity to purchase all of the items I needed to transform the window into a thing of beauty. And there was something about the creative process that calmed my heart and stilled my troubled thoughts.

I'd prepped for this all weekend—mentally, anyway—and I couldn't wait to get started. It would be gorgeous. I started by placing mounds of snow-like fluff at the base of the window, then added the adorable snowman I'd purchased. After that I put up twinkling lights—all white, of course. Then I hung the snowflakes. Beautiful, white, shimmering snowflakes.

As I worked I thought about Brady. He definitely wasn't himself lately. Not even close. I'd never seen him so quiet, or so down. His knee seemed to be recovering nicely, but his heart and mind were not. Was he avoiding me? Rethinking our relationship? Or was his withdrawn behavior related to the loss of his career? Were both of those things wrapped up together in his heart? I prayed not.

I buzzed around the shop, preoccupied with my task. I felt my senses come alive as I worked. In fact, the whole thing reminded me of being at home in Fairfield, working on the window display at the hardware store.

Home.

Fairfield.

A wistful feeling came over me, and for the first time in ages I actually felt homesick. I missed the simpler life—leisurely hours after work, hanging out with friends at football games
and Dairy Queen. Friday night dinners at Sam's restaurant with the family. These days, my whole world was filled with work, work, work.

Not that I'd ever been averse to working hard, but it seemed like I had no real life outside of my job anymore.

I shook off my concerns and focused on the window. It was coming together nicely, if I did say so myself. As I continued on, my spirits lifted. Suddenly my work didn't feel like work at all. The creative process made it pure joy.

Finally, the pièce de résistance—the lifelike mannequin with the perfect wintery bridal gown. I'd chosen the gown with Dahlia's help—a lovely lace dress sparkling with snow-like crystals from top to bottom. I loved the sheer sleeves and the crystal-embellished sash. The whole thing just cried “winter.” And if anyone missed that point, the white faux fur draped across the mannequin's shoulders should seal the deal.

Now, to finish off the whole thing by adding a backdrop. I'd purchased the perfect lace drapes to swag behind the display. They would be open enough to see through into the store, but draped on the sides to frame the display. Perfect.

Twiggy approached just as I turned on the lights. The whole thing sprang to life and we both gasped in unison. “It's gorgeous!” she said.

“You think?” I noticed a couple of things that needing adjusting, so I went back to work, pulling the mannequin slightly to the left and moving the lace curtains so they allowed more of the window display to be seen from the inside of the store.

“Ooh, I knew I forgot something!” I raced to the back of the store and returned with a long veil, which I pinned to the bride's hair. Then I stepped back to give the whole thing one last scrutinizing look.

“What's that song you're singing, Katie?” Twiggy asked.

“Song?” Oops. I didn't even realize I'd been singing out loud.

“Yes. Something about being in your own little corner?”

“Oh, it's from
Cinderella
. Maybe I just need some mice to help me finish this display.”

“Mice?” Twiggy paled. “Are you saying we have mice? Here? At the shop?”

“No.” I laughed and waved my hand, nearly knocking the mannequin over. “No mice. That I know of. I just like that song.”

“Probably because you've got your own prince now.” Madge drew close to the window display, giving it an admiring look.

“Hmm.” I didn't mean to hesitate, but it couldn't be helped. Madge's words had stopped me in my tracks. With Brady pulling away from me, I had to wonder about the prince comment. Maybe my prince was on sabbatical. Taking a rest from the kingdom for a while.

Madge must've been reading my thoughts. “He'll get through this, Katie.” She patted my arm. “Just be patient.”

“What else can I be?” I gave a little shrug. “It won't help his situation to fret.”

“True. And by the way, the window looks great.”

“Thanks. I love doing holiday windows. I got the idea for this one from a fun conversation I had with my brother and Crystal.”

“How is Crystal, anyway?”

“Engaged and excited. I think she's settling into the routine at the hardware store fine. She's in her element in a small town.”

“I imagine you're right. I always thought she was a bit of a fish out of water here, but we were happy to be her family while she was at the bridal shop.”

I pondered the whole “happy to be her family” line. The
folks at Cosmopolitan Bridal had become my family too. And I loved them for adopting me.

Still, it was another family that tugged at my heart as I continued to work. My thoughts kept shifting back to my lunch at Sam's with Casey and his parents. I'd seen the hopefulness in his mother's eyes as she'd talked about the two of us as if we were still a couple. And I couldn't seem to shake the notion that Casey wanted to rekindle things.

Take this morning's text message, for instance. What kind of an ex sent a random “Praying for you” message?

I chided myself for making too much of it. Casey had always been kindhearted, a real sweetie—so good with expressing himself.

Good with expressing himself. Hmm . . . Just the opposite of
Brady.

I pushed those thoughts aside to the best of my ability and tried not to let homesickness overwhelm me again.

Before breaking for lunch, I gave the display one last glance, then went outside and took a close look at it through the window. I still needed to move the mannequin slightly to the left, but other than that the whole thing was picture-perfect. I could hardly wait for the customers to take notice.

Speaking of which, I'd better snap a few photos and submit them as part of our weekly ad for the local mailer. I went inside, grabbed my camera, and took as many pictures as I could. Unfortunately, most of them caught my reflection in the glass, so I had to go inside and take several more photos from the back side of the window.

Finally it was time for lunch. Creative work always made me hungry. I passed by Brady's office and noticed the door was closed. Strange. He rarely closed it unless he was on an important call or something. Maybe he just wanted to be
alone. Or maybe he was in the studio having lunch with the others.

I walked down the hall and opened the door to the studio. For the first time in ages I didn't find Dahlia in a frenzy. Instead, everyone seemed to be in a relatively pleasant frame of mind. Off in the distance Eduardo worked on Carrie Sanders's gown. I gasped as I saw it on the dress form.

“Oh, Eduardo, it's amazing. Doris would be so proud.”

“I will send her a photo when I'm done.”

“You'll . . . what?” Was he kidding? He would send Doris a photo?

“We are friends, you know.” This led to an animated conversation about the old days in Hollywood.

“I still can't believe you actually know her.” Hibiscus gave him a curious look. “I wonder if you're pulling my leg.”

“It's the truth.” He put his right hand up. “Every word of it.”

I warmed my lunch in the microwave and Hibiscus and Jane joined me. I had to laugh when I saw that Jane had changed her hair color—again. This week she was sporting a short bob, deep red. And the hippie-style clothing threw me a little. Hadn't bell-bottoms gone out in the seventies?