“You got it right, she’s a girl. That’s Peanut, my sweet but demanding roommate.”
“What a beauty, but I guess she had no sartorial suggestions for you.”
“Not a one. And I’m clueless. Be honest—is there anything in there worth wearing?”
“Well…” Blaise stepped closer. She glanced back at the capris on the bed, then back into the closet. “You like dark colors, huh?”
“No, not really, but it seems to be all I buy. I really need to work on that.”
“Okay, I have an idea. What’s your favorite white top? T-shirt, blouse, shirt, whatever.”
“Favorite?” Cece reached in and pulled out a white cotton blouse with cap sleeves and mother of pearl buttons. The last time she’d worn it she’d paired it with tan pants and a navy cardigan to meet with her banker. “Probably too formal for bowling, though, don’t you think?”
Blaise shook her head. “With jeans? And a pop of color? I think it’ll work.”
Cece almost laughed. “In what universe do you see a pop of color in that wardrobe?”
“Let me worry about that. You’ll have bowling shoes on, so your footwear won’t matter as much but don’t forget socks.”
“I need socks?” Cece rolled her eyes. “I never would have thought of that.”
“You put the jeans and top on, I’m going to run back to my place and gather a few accessories.”
“I can’t borrow anything from you.”
Blaise stopped in her tracks. “Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re several sizes smaller than me. For another, I’ve seen how you dress. I have a feeling everything you own is designer.”
“Not everything,” Blaise corrected. “And it doesn’t matter. You called me because I know about fashion, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then let me do my thing.” Blaise grinned.
Cece couldn’t argue. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll change.”
As Blaise left, Cece did just that, shedding her around-the-house leggings and T-shirt for the capri jeans and white blouse. She left the blouse untucked, unsure of what she should do with it. One thing wasn’t unsure. The combo looked utterly uninspired, and she was once again thinking about cancelling with Jonas when Blaise returned.
She had a large Louis Vuitton tote bag, which sort of proved Cece’s earlier point about all of her things being designer, but Cece kept quiet.
Blaise looked Cece over. “Do those pants have belt loops?”
Cece nodded. “You want me to tuck the shirt in?”
“Just a French tuck.”
“Which is what in English?”
Blaise smiled. “Just the front tucked in.”
“Just the front? Oh, wait—I think I’ve seen my daughter do that.” Cece did her best approximation.
Blaise came over and adjusted it. “There. Now for the accessories.” She pulled a blue and yellow scarf from her bag, like a magician flourishing a rabbit.
“Where’s that going?” Cece asked, genuinely bemused.
Blaise laid it on the bed, folded it a few times lengthwise, then started rolling. Even Peanut paid attention. “This is going to be your belt.”
