Authors: Kristen Painter
The scent of roses greeted her when she walked into the living room. She stared at the abundance of yellow blooms, her annoyance fading.
She grabbed the phone, plopped on the couch and punched in Viv’s number.
“Walthem-Chatsford residence.”
“Hi Swan, it’s Meredith. Can you put Viv on?”
“Right away, Dr. Black.”
Meredith stared at the roses. They were unforgivably beautiful.
“Meredith, darling! How are you today?”
“Fine. Viv, tell me the truth. Am I uptight?”
“Mercilessly, but I still love you.”
“I am?” Meredith tucked her knees up under her.
“Terribly.”
Meredith blew out a breath. “Have I always been that way?”
Viv stayed silent for a moment. “A little but you didn’t reach the uttermost heights of uptightness until after Michael died.”
“Oh.” That was interesting. “But I still have fun, don’t I?”
“What is this about?” Viv’s disapproving tone came through loud and clear. “Don’t tell me you did something foolish like refuse the flowers?”
“I didn’t refuse the--how do you know about the flowers?” Meredith asked.
“Where do you think he got your address?” Viv laughed, obviously pleased with herself.
Meredith groaned. “Why on earth did you do that?”
“Do you know how many women are dying to go out with that delectable specimen of manhood? What is wrong with you? For some freakish reason one of the hottest bachelors in the city has taken a liking to you, and you’re acting like the IRS wants to audit the last ten years of your tax returns. Snap out of it, woman.”
“He’s too young,” Meredith argued. “He needs a woman who can give him children.”
“I’m sorry,” Viv scoffed. “Did he propose?”
“No, of course not—”
“Then why can’t you just go out with him for fun? Have a little fling, for crying out loud? We’re not talking lifetime commitment here. Dinner and movie, a stroll in the park, a roll in the sheets, sure, but a walk down the aisle, no.”
“Viv!” Meredith gasped. The woman was so bold. “I am not sleeping with him.”
“Not yet but play your cards right and anything’s possible.” The older woman chuckled.
Meredith rubbed her temple. “There is so much wrong with you, you know that?”
“You’ve known that for years. Now when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow night, for dinner.” If Viv only knew she’d just been on the back his motorcycle.
“Fabulous. What are you wearing?”
“He’s practically young enough to be my son.” That was a lie but Meredith was grasping at straws now.
“No, he isn’t. Chef Spicer’s got to be in his mid-thirties, at least. Your son is twenty. Can we refocus?”
“Oh Lord. Jason can’t know about this. This would not be setting a good example.” She shuddered to think what her son’s reaction might be.
“I think it would be a great example,” Viv said.
“You would.”
“Back to the outfit. What are you wearing for this hot date?”
“It’s not a hot date. It’s just an informal dinner. I don’t even know why I agreed to it.”
“Because you’re warm for him, you just won’t admit it.”
Meredith didn’t answer. Instead, she rolled her eyes at the phone.
“Don’t you think he’s deliciously handsome?” Viv prodded.
Meredith sank back against the cushions and splayed her fingers over her face. “He isn’t ugly.”
“A resounding endorsement if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Fine! He’s attractive. In a boyish sort of way.” She could almost hear Viv rolling her eyes right back. “And I haven’t picked out an outfit yet. Probably slacks and a sweater.”
Viv groaned. “Slacks and a sweater? Where are you going for dinner, a PTA meeting? Don’t make me call Lizza.”
Meredith growled softly in the back of her throat. “Why are we friends again?”
“Do you own a little black dress? Wait, scratch that. Your idea of a little black dress is probably knee-length and long-sleeved. I’m coming over.”
Meredith sat up. “Wait. I can pick out an outfit on my own.”
Viv had already hung up. Meredith slumped back and propped her feet up on the coffee table. She ought to call Kelly and cancel Tuesday night’s dinner. It was just a bad idea. She looked down at the phone, still in her hand. That’s exactly what she was going to do, call and cancel. Just as soon as she had another of those wonderful chocolate fireballs.
Then she’d call Jillian and explain that there was no plan.
When Viv showed up forty-five minutes later, Meredith hadn’t called anyone. She would, though, just as soon as Viv left.
“I brought a few things,” Viv said, shopping bags swinging from both hands. Behind her, Swan’s arms drooped under the weight of numerous garment bags.
“I have plenty of clothes.” Meredith shook her head. “I don’t need any of those.”
“You have plenty of business attire. I doubt the hot date section of your closet is as well-equipped.” Viv motioned Swan forward. “Down the hall, straight ahead to the bedroom.”
“Right away, Miss Vivian.” Swan hustled past. Meredith took off after her with Viv right behind.
Viv dropped the shopping bags and made a beeline for the walk-in. She thrust the doors open with theatrical flourish. “Let’s see what skeletons you’ve got in here.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. “Ignore that choice of words.”
“I wasn’t even listening.” Meredith sat on the one spot on the bed not covered in garment bags and watched her friend rummage through her wardrobe. Swan went to work organizing and unzipping the bags.
“Boring, dull, too workaday, too...what is this?” Viv held out a lumpy gray oblong of yarn.
Meredith jumped up and snatched it away. “It’s a scarf. Jason knitted it for me in high school when he had to take Home Economics.” She stared lovingly at the gnarled mess. “He hated that class.”
“I can tell.” Viv went back to rummaging. She pulled out a simple black dress with cap sleeves. “This isn’t bad.”
“No.” Meredith took it out of her hand and hung it back up. “I wore that to Michael’s funeral, I will not wear that on a date.”
“I can’t believe you still have it.” Viv shook her head and continued. “This has possibilities.” A slinky purple wisp dangled from a hanger.
“That’s a nightgown, for Pete’s sake,” Meredith said.
“You actually sleep in this?” Viv’s botoxed forehead failed to furrow.
“No.”
Viv nodded. “I didn’t think so. Swan, give me that bag on top.”
Swan held up the first garment bag while Viv dug into it. She whipped out a champagne lace slip dress dusted with sparkling crystals.
“It’s lovely but this is an informal dinner, not an evening out at the Met,” Meredith said.
“How informal?”
“He’ll be at the restaurant working. I get the sense we’ll probably just sit at the bar or something like that.”
“Nothing I brought is appropriate for sitting at the bar.” Viv sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that on the phone?”
“I would have if you hadn’t hung up before I had the chance.”
Swan rezipped the dress into the garment bag and settled onto the edge of Meredith’s bed. “You mind I go watch TV? My story is on.”
Meredith nodded. “My house is yours. I’m sorry she dragged you into this.”
The petite woman shrugged on her way out. “Long as Miss Vivian pays me, I don’t care what we do.”
Viv snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. You do own jeans, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Wunderbar. Where’s that sweater I gave you?” She started poking through boxes stacked on the top shelf.
Meredith steeled herself for what was coming next. “That won’t work.”
Viv kept digging. “Of course it will. It’s lovely. You’ve probably never even worn it.”
“Yes, I have and that’s why it won’t work.” She groaned. This was not something she’d wanted to share.
Viv stopped looking through the boxes and with an evil glint in her eye looked at Meredith instead. “Do tell, naughty girl.”
As soon as Meredith gave up the details of her afternoon jaunt, Viv glanced at the closet then back at Meredith. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door jam. “I guess you know what we’re doing tomorrow morning, don’t you?”
Meredith sighed and slumped down on the bed. She had a pretty good idea and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Chapter Nine
Viv’s driver dropped them in front of Barney’s at 10 am. Celia hopped out first with Viv and Meredith right behind her.
Lizza greeted them with her usual perky smile. Beneath a long black velvet military jacket she wore an excessively ruffled white shirt and skintight burgundy pants tucked into knee high black boots. Meredith leaned over and whispered in Celia’s ear. “Isn’t that the puffy shirt from Seinfeld?”
With a snicker, Celia whispered back. “I think it’s called Pirate Chic.”
“You mean there’s a name for that look?” Meredith raised a brow.
Celia snorted and Viv shot them both a dangerous glare. The woman took fashion way too seriously.
“Welcome back, Dr. Black. I understand you have a date—“
Viv wordlessly interrupted Lizza with a vigorous and not so subtle head shaking.
Lizza continued. “I mean, an informal dinner.”
“I’m sure you’ve picked out just the right things.” Viv nudged Meredith toward the dressing room. “Go on.”
Lizza smiled brightly.
Meredith sighed and trudged into the changing room. The fashion pirate and the beauty commando had her outnumbered. She looked at the stuff awaiting her and stuck her head out. “There are jeans in here. I already have jeans.”
“You have two pairs and they’re both ‘mom’ jeans. Try those on,” Viv commanded.
“Mom jeans?” Meredith said.
“Oh no,” Lizza whispered through her fingers. “High-waisted, tapered-leg?”
Viv gave her a wide-eyed, horrified nod. Lizza gasped.
Meredith rolled her eyes. “They’re
jeans
. You act like I’ve been wearing a coat made out of puppy skin.” She shut the door. Were her jeans that bad? Kelly must think her hopelessly out of date. Maybe he was just being nice to her. Or worse. Maybe he thought she was desperate. But if she’d been desperate, she would have kissed him.
She should have. He was a great kisser.
“What are you putting on first?” Celia called out.
Meredith refocused. Then sighed. “Jeans and one of these slutty tops.”
“They are not slutty,” Lizza corrected her. “They’re very
Sex And The City
.”
“And
Sex And The City
was such a family show,” Meredith said. She fastened the jeans, slipped one of the tops over her head and took a look in the mirror. This was a mistake. She stepped out of the dressing room so her suspicions could be confirmed.
“Oh, Meredith...I wish I could wear sleeveless. How do you keep your arms from looking like wet noodles?” Celia asked.
“Pilates and thanks,” Meredith answered. “You like this top?”
“That shade is fabulous,” Lizza gushed. “Aubergine is just
the
color right now.”
Meredith took another look. Tiny jet beads accented the silver embroidery along the cami’s deep V. Pin tucks hugged the silky fabric to the curve of her bosom; from there, the top went soft and floaty into an asymmetrical hem. “It is a nice color.”
“You have a great tush for jeans, too.” Viv smiled. “I really hate you right now.”
“That’s very nice, but I can’t wear this.” Meredith shook her head.
“Why not?” Lizza asked.
“Because it’s sleeveless and it’s spring. It still gets chilly at night.”
“Ah.” Lizza held up one ruby-tipped finger and slipped into the dressing room. She came out with a fitted olive-green velvet jacket. “Here.”
Meredith shrugged the jacket on. “People wear these colors together?”
“Of course,” Lizza said.
The velvet was soft and snuggling. Meredith took a look in the mirror. Kelly had liked the red dress Lizza had selected so maybe he’d like this too. “Okay. I’m done shopping.”
Viv laughed. “Where’s your sense of optimism? Buy more than one outfit.”
“But that implies—”
“Yes,” Viv nodded, lips pursed in a knowing way. “It does.”
* * *
Meredith arrived at Sedona at quarter to seven. Being early gave her time to go over what she planned to say to Kelly. She’d eat dinner with him, thank him for a nice evening and then gently explain why she couldn’t see him anymore. As far as the blog incident, Jillian could arrange for some sort of mea culpa interview somewhere and that would have to do for penance.
“Welcome to Sedona.” The curvy redhead at the hostess stand looked like she was no stranger to the plastic surgeon’s office. “Do you have a reservation?”
Meredith straightened. “No, I’m meeting someone at the bar.”
“Very good.” The woman smiled. “That’s a lovely top. Great color.”
And those are ambitious implants, Meredith wanted to say, but held her tongue. “Thank you.”
She tucked herself into the only empty seat in the bar. The happy hour crowd was still there and judging from the laughs and back slapping, very happy. She ordered a club soda and studied the rows of bottles along the back wall. Who knew there were so many kinds of tequila? Maybe she should have the bartender call up and tell Kelly she was here.
The bartender set her drink down but walked away before she could make herself heard above the noisy businessmen next to her. She picked up her drink to take a sip. The suit beside her chose that moment to pantomime part of the story he’d been telling. His elbow connected with her hand and the glass went flying. The crash of glass got the bartender’s attention. He bent to pick up the pieces.
“Whoa...” The suit spun around to face her. “Sorry about that.” He loosened his already drooping tie and gave her a whiskey sour grin. “Lemme buy you another.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Just turn around and leave me alone
.
“I inshist,” he said.
The bartender put another club soda in front of her.
“Excuse me.” She held up a finger to get the man’s attention but he was already at the service bar. Had Kelly purposefully hired the fastest bartender in the city?
“You have pretty eyes,” the suit said, doing his drunken best not to seem obvious as he peered down her shirt.