“Be serious, Vanessa,” she chastises. “Even when you were overseas, you didn’t spend time with me.”
I shrug. “Did you want me to?”
Mom thumbs through a few items on a rack. “If you spend this time with me, then I’ll let you spend more time with your boy toy.”
“Boy toy?” Is she really comparing what I have with Dax to the torrid affair she had with my tutor? “You might want to give him more respect. He’ll be my date for the gala.”
Mom chokes on her surprise. “Is he now? What happened to LJ?”
“There’s never been anything with LJ.”
“Well, there you go. That’s what I was getting at with this new boyfriend. You do want to spend time with him, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Then let’s stop squabbling and pick a few dresses. Shall we?”
I swallow the urge to groan and move to another rack. The sales assistant, Ramona, greets my mother with a kiss on each cheek, and recommends dresses from Antonia Balletti’s latest collection.
Happy not to dig through the racks myself, I fall into the fitting room where Mom and Ramona discuss the gowns while I play a life-like mannequin.
Ramona helps me into a beaded, baby blue, princess-cut dress. The hem swims to the floor, and the straps fall off the shoulder. It feels a little Cinderella on the way to the ball, and I’m not loving the vibe. Yet, Ramona gushes about how it was made for me.
Mom grins. “She looks like she’s worth more than the Ashworth Estate.”
I pull out the tulle covering the skirt. “I’m not loving how big it feels.”
“Oh, please,” Mom replies. “No one will be able to take their eyes off you. This gala is happening because of you, after all.”
Ramona claps. “Oh, Miss Ashworth, that’s wonderful.”
My mother beams. “Yes, Vanessa single-handedly reached out to St. Mark’s Hospital and discovered how much help they needed. She’s quite the philanthropist.”
Ramona clutches her chest. “You must be so proud, Mrs. Ashworth.”
Mom gives a dignified nod, happily taking credit for my achievements.
At least she’s not wallowing in my failure.
I view myself in the three-way mirror and wince. “Can I see something else?”
“Fine.” Mom huffs and gestures at Ramona. “Get her another dress.”
Ramona helps me out of the dress, sensing the change in my mother’s mood. She then helps me into a dusty pink, floor-length gown. It has an A-line cut, gathered fabric, and spaghetti straps.
“This is gorgeous,” I gush at the mirror.
“See,” Mom blurts. “Doesn’t Mommy know best? I knew you’d enjoy coming here.”
Calm down. I like the dress, but could live without the outing.
As Ramona sits the bottom of the dress in a more flattering position, Mom yammers about what shoes and accessories would best suit the dress. When Ramona leaves to find what Mom envisions, it dawns on me. Mom is only here so Ramona can tell her customers Mrs. Ashworth was in the store.
“You could’ve come here for your own dress fitting, you know,” I say as she examines my dress.
“You’re the star of the gala, my dear daughter.”
“We both know people will be clamoring to speak with you at the gala. Some haven’t done that since you left town.”
