“I don’t doubt it. You need to take that off right now. We’re going to get your money back on that thing.” Vanessa turned her back on Misty and retrieved the suitcase from the hall. She plopped it on Misty’s bed and unzipped it. If nothing else it would keep Misty from crawling back in it.
“What time is it?” Vanessa demanded.
Misty looked toward the clock on her dresser. “Six twenty-two.”
“What time is your date picking you up?”
“Luke is supposed to here at seven forty-five.”
“What’s our focus? The dream? Or the fear?”
“The dream. Always,” Misty said.
“We’ve got plenty of time. Go! Get that dress off, and wash your face. Bring a cold rag for your eyes. We’ve got this.”
Misty pulled the parachute of material over her head andtossed it on her dresser as she headed to the bathroom. When she returned, her face was scrubbed clean, and she no longer looked like it was the end of the world.
“Put this on.” Vanessa handed Misty her favorite little black dress. Chanel, it was timeless in cut and had enough stretch to flatter just about any figure. She prayed it wasn’t going to be too short. Misty had a good couple of inches on her, and the last thing she needed was Mike having a heart attack over the length.
Misty had no idea that this dress cost nearly two thousand dollars at the consignment shop. It had been Vanessa’s first real splurge on a dress, but this little dress had paid for itself time and time again over the years. Then again, it wasn’t a jewel-tone or shiny fabric like the dream dress in Misty’s photo. She remembered how important those formal dance dresses had seemed to her when she was Misty’s age. She tried not to take exception to the not-so-impressed look on Misty’s face.
It slid right on, and fit just right. The length wasn’t bad either. Certainly respectable.
“It fits way better,” Misty said with a half nod.
“Very flattering.” Vanessa came around to her side, then took a pair of heels from her bag. “Try these.”
Misty took them then stared back at Vanessa. “Really?”
“Try them on.” Vanessa watched her set the shoes side by side on the floor and step into them.
Misty visibly swallowed and then looked over to her. “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe this.”
“Oh yeah. Much better. Next, we conquer that hair. Add a little makeup, and you’re going to be the prettiest girl at the Winter Festival Dance.”
“You really think so?”
Vanessa stood behind her and straightened Misty’s posture.“Look at yourself. You look amazing. The dress is Chanel. The designer who invented the little black dress. Seriously, you’ll blow the socks off everyone at the dance. Hands down.”
“You’re really going to let me wear this?”
“Sure as I’m standing here.” She clapped her hands twice. “Time’s a-wasting. Go get a chair. I’ve got less than thirty minutes to get this done.”
While Misty went in search of the chair, Vanessa texted Mike to let him know things were in progress and to be ready for Luke’s arrival at seven forty-five, and that he might have to stall if they weren’t quite done.
Before she put her phone down, she picked it back up and added to the text,And be nice to him.
Maybe,he texted her back.
She knew it had been too much to ask. Fathers lived for the day to scare boys away from their little girls.
At 7:45 on the nose, a bright swath of light fanned past Misty’s bedroom window. “He’s here!”
“Calm down.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m going to be sick.”
“No. You’re not. Take a breath.” Vanessa swept the fluffy powder brush over Misty’s face one last time. “You look perfect. Come.” She snapped her fingers and pulled her in front of the mirrored closet door. “Seriously. Even if that other dress had looked like the picture, you can never outdo a perfect little black dress. That’s all you need, forever. Accessorize up or down, throw a jean jacket on, or pearls and do tea with the queen.”
