Authors: Kay Keppler
“Sixty percent off!” Hope said.
“Or it could mean that he did somebody else this morning.” Baby paused, thinking. “If he did, I’ll kill him.”
“Or we could go to your favorite places, wherever you want,” Hope said. “You could show me.”
“I don’t see how it could have been some young chick,” Baby said, looking at her flawless, twenty-five-year-old face in the mirror with no apparent irony. “Where did he meet her? He’s been with me all the time. I been keeping him totally satisfied.”
“It’s a mystery,” Hope said. “You want to go now?”
“Marilyn knew he was here,” Baby said. “But how could he be doing her? She’s back in Jersey and she must be fifty at
least
. You think maybe she came out here and put a hex on him or something?”
“If she did, you’ll need a new outfit,” Hope said. “Probably more than one.”
“You know, you’re right,” Baby said, determination glinting in her eyes. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here.”
Hope soon realized that Baby’s fears about the extent of Big Julie’s affections had put her in a fiercely competitive shopping mood.
“That plastic is gonna
melt
,” Baby declared as Hope parked in the premium outlet mall parking lot. “We are gonna do some
damage.
”
Hope could already feel the pain her feet would be in by the time Baby got done melting Big Julie’s credit cards. “I don’t really need anything,” she said, grabbing her purse from the back seat. “But I’ll tag along.”
“Big Julie said you need new clothes,” Baby said, pulling down the visor and frowning into the mirror on the back to check her lipstick. She turned and glanced at Hope. “And no offense, but he’s right. You could do better.”
Hope glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing a white tank top and loose khaki cargo shorts that came to her knees with sport sandals. In the desert heat of Las Vegas, which was at least fifteen degrees hotter than the ranch, nothing else made sense. She didn’t look as fantastic as Baby, but she didn’t require as much upkeep, either, and she was as cool as she could be. That had to count for
something.
“Baby, it’s too hot to wear anything else.”
“I’ve seen what you wear,” Baby said. “You always wear stuff like that.”
“It’s
practical
,”
Hop
Hope said, knowing that to Baby, practicality had about as much appeal as dumpster diving.
“Practical,” Baby sniffed. “We’re getting you an outfit. It’ll be fun.” Her voice had the iron will of a marine drill sergeant.
Hope sighed and followed Baby into the outlet mall.
“Baby, you can’t pick out clothes for me,” Hope said, feeling harassed.
I’ll wind up looking like you. Like a, a—cupcake.
“We’re just looking,” Baby said, pausing at the mall directory, “but you’re sticking with me because you got the fashion sense of a dishrag.”
“That’s harsh,” Hope said, a little stung. “Come on, Baby. Clothes aren’t everything. I’m
comfortable
.”
“Yeah, you and Santa Claus. So you wanna wear a red pantsuit with white fur trim? I didn’t think so. They got some good stuff here. Let’s check it out.”
At the first store, Baby stopped in front of the window and shook her head. “Look at that,” she said. “Bows and sailor collars! Like we’re five years old.”
“The bows look stupid,” Hope agreed. Baby looked at her suspiciously.
“They
do
,” Hope said.
“Well, that’s something,” Baby said.
They moved on to the next window.
“Never wear anything with writing,” Baby said, dismissing a famous designer in five words.
At the next store, Baby stopped. “In here,” she said.
They went in. Hope had heard of the designer, but she always shopped online from catalog retailers. She idly browsed the racks, fingering the softness of the fabrics.
It wouldn’t be hard to get used to this,
she thought, putting the garments back.
Baby flipped through the clothes, checking sizes and pulling out colors. Then she took an armload of selections back to the fitting room. “Pick something out,” she ordered Hope. “You’re getting an outfit. At least one.”
Hope laughed as she watched Baby disappear into the back of the store.
Well, why not?
She’d made seven thousand dollars this morning. She would win another seven thousand tonight. If she bought an outfit, she’d still be way ahead. And here was Baby, her personal shopper, more than willing to help.
She looked more seriously at the clothes. They had a lot more flair than the things she usually bought. She went through the racks, considering, and finally picked out a cute linen blouse in chocolate brown and a pair of tan slacks with notches at the ankles, both of which were on sale, and went back to try them on. There she found Baby in the hallway, inspecting herself critically in front of the mirror.
“What’ve you got there?” Baby asked, looking at Hope’s choices, and then recoiled almost in horror. “No, no, no! Beige? Is this what they teach you at whatever college you went to? You should not be allowed to shop alone.”
Personal shopper with attitude,
Hope thought, annoyed.
“What’s wrong with this? It’s neutral. I like it.”
Baby rolled her eyes and spun Hope around until she faced the mirror. “Look at you,” she said. “You got a nice body. Okay, not as good as mine, goes without saying. But you got nice boobs, hardly sagging at all yet.”
“Hey,” Hope said. Her annoyance flared higher.
Baby leaned back to look at Hope’s rear. “Pretty good butt—”
If she says, ‘hardly sagging at all yet,’
Hope thought,
I’m going back to the car.
“—and pretty good legs. You’re maybe, what? A little short-waisted. So, really, you can wear almost any style. And look at your coloring. Blue eyes. And your skin’s good. I bet you don’t even do anything to get that, do you?” Baby’s voice had taken on an accusing note.
Hope blinked. “Moisturizer. I moisturize. A
lot.
”
Baby snorted in disdain. “Moisturizer. Your skin’s almost as good as mine. And you’re even older than me! And look at your hair. I bet you’re a natural blonde.”
“Well, yeah, all my family—”
“So you’re a blue-eyed blonde with a peaches-and-cream complexion, and you got a showgirl’s body and you want to wear beige. Hello? Is
anybody
home at your personal fashion mall?”
“
Hey
,” Hope said.
“Seriously,” Baby said.
“I don’t want to be a slave to fashion,” Hope said, feeling dumb even as she said it. Not only had she never been a slave to fashion, she’d never even gone to work for it, not even as a temp. She barely had a nodding acquaintance with fashion. If fashion showed up looking like a movie star and wearing a name tag, Hope probably wouldn’t recognize it.
Baby, on the other hand,
was
a slave to fashion, and what did it get her? Boyfriends. Money. Glamour. Trips to Vegas.
“Don’t be dumb,” Baby said now, taking the clothes away and handing them to a passing clerk to restock. “Nice clothes feel better. They look better on you, and looking good gives you confidence. They last longer, too.” Then she relented.
“Come on. Let’s see what else they have.”
The next two hours were eye-opening for Hope, who had never shopped for clothing that was anything but basic. First came the sleeveless, cowl neck knit top in deep cobalt blue. The cowl dropped in the front, exposing a deep V of cleavage.
“That outline is perfect on you,” a clerk said, nodding to her as she bustled by.
Hope stared after her. Was she
nuts?
She felt utterly, completely exposed in the clingy, silky top.
“I can’t wear this,” she said.
“Yes, you can,” Baby said. “It’s perfect.” She stood next to Hope and twitched the hem. “See how it shows off your boobs?”
“Yes,” Hope said. “That’s what I mean.” She looked at her breasts, which seemed eager to burst through the top. Like her body had a point team, two of them, moving in front of her at all times to clear the way before she got there. All Hope could see when she looked at herself was breast.
A second sales clerk breezed by, holding an armload of hangers. “That top looks great on you!” she said.
“See?” Baby said.
“She’s paid to say that,” Hope said.
“You are making me mad,” Baby said. “Go out to the front and walk in front of anybody. See what happens.”
I’m making
her
mad?
Hope scowled, but she went out to the front of the store and jammed some of Baby’s rejects back onto a rack.
“What a lovely top,” another shopper said. “Is it on sale?”
Hope glanced at Baby who smiled in smug satisfaction. “It is,” Hope said, feeling trapped. “Right over there. More colors, too.”
“It’s terrific,” the shopper said, going over to the rack Hope pointed out.
Hope headed back to the fitting rooms
opHo
.
“That settles it,” she said to Baby. “I can’t buy it. People will stare at me.”
“You will buy it, and you will wear it,” said Baby, the marine drill sergeant. “It looks fantastic on you. And it’s washable. You’ll like that. It’s—what’s that word again?
Practical.
”
Two hours later, Hope was burdened with shopping bags.
How did this happen? And how much did I spend?
Thanks to Baby’s forcefulness, Hope had bought several new outfits—halter tops and wraparound tops and camis with spaghetti straps. She owned a new pair of Bermudas, a pair of cropped pants, a pair of loose linen slacks, and a perfectly tailored pencil skirt. She had accessories. She had shoes. And she had an utterly fantastic sundress with a sweetheart neckline and a pattern of orange butterflies down the front. She didn’t know where she’d wear it, but the second she saw it she couldn’t resist it. She loved it. She couldn’t believe it, that she could love a dress like that.
“Everything was on sale,” Baby said soothingly as they headed back to the car. Hope’s shopping bags banged against her legs as she trundled her purchases out to the parking lot. She felt acutely anxious. The clothes were pretty, and she had to admit that they’d looked great on her. But she’d never worn clothes like this. Revealing, body-conscious clothes. They seemed too—risky. Not like her. She felt like a sailor charting unexplored seas.
“I’ve never done this before,” Hope said as they got into the car. “Gone shopping like this, I mean. For fun. With a, a friend. And bought clothes like this. I’ve never worn clothes like this.”
“I never would have guessed,” Baby said, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you glad? You gotta know how nice those things are.”
“I guess.” Hope glanced doubtfully at the load of shopping bags in the back seat of the car.
But will I have the nerve to wear them?
Chapter 10
Tanner had had an idea how he could see Hope again, almost like a date. But he’d need help to set it up. First from Kenji. Then Faith.
Faith he was sure of. Kenji would be more of a problem.
“I don’t know about this, Wingate,” Kenji said now.
“You’re always saying I should go out more. Now here’s someone I want to go out with. I’d think you’d want to help.”
“It seems a roundabout way to get there,” Kenji said. “You can’t just call—what’s her name? Hope?—you can’t just call her and ask her out to dinner? Like normal people?” He stood by the phone in the Ginger Palace kitchen, not making a move to pick it up.
“If I ask her out, she’ll say no,” Tanner said. “So I want to get her family involved. She likes her family. You like Faith, right? And her little girl. You’ll have fun. And I’ll get some quality time with Hope.”
“I don’t want to screw up my vegetable deliveries just so you can go out on a date. You’re getting me UNLV basketball tickets, right?”
Tanner sighed. “Yes. I told you.
After
we make the call.”
It was Kenji’s turn to sigh. “Okay. If Faith says no, do I still get the tickets?”
“Don’t let her say no.
Persuade
her. But you’re making her a great offer, Kenj. She’ll want to do it for her kid. Trust me.”
Kenji shook his head, but he picked up the phone and dialed. He was relieved when Faith answered.
“Hi, Faith? It’s Kenji Hasegawa, down at the Ginger Palace, how are you doing?”
“Kenji, yes, hello,” Faith said. “Is something wrong with the vegetable delivery?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Kenji said. “Everything is great. Listen. I was talking to Tanner Wingate—do you remember him? He was in here yesterday when you came in with the delivery. We had an idea for Amber’s birthday. It’s her birthday on Tuesday, right?”
“Yes,” Faith said. “You had an idea? Really? What? And maybe, why?”
“Amber mentioned that she wants to learn how to cook. Did you hear her talking to Tanner about becoming a chef? She said she’s been working on the vegetable boxes, but she seems frustrated by that.”