Page 48 of The Roommate Subtext

Wednesday night finally felt like real-and-true autumn, and Maggie was grateful for her sweater dress as she met Phoebe at the closest T stop between her condo and Phoebe’s work. October had trended warmer, and this was the first week where she felt like she could wear an outfit like this in the daytime and not be ready to roast. Phoebe had leaned into the aesthetic as well, with a multicolored flannel and corduroys, plus a knit beanie covering her hair. She pulled Maggie in for a hug. “Look at you, Miss Autumn,” she said.

Maggie laughed. “Blake said I looked nice, like a festive gourd, but he meant it like a compliment.”

Phoebe burst out laughing. “Well, that’s something. Full of the compliments, that guy.”

“From Blake, I think any vegetable comparison is a compliment.” Maggie smoothed down her dress. Blake had looked earnest when he’d said it, and the memory felt sweet.

“Are you ready to shop?” Phoebe’s expression was complete excitement, with none of the trepidation Maggie usually felt when about to undertake a clothing-related adventure.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You know I’m missing Marigold Murders for this.” Blake was going to be ahead of her.

Phoebe frowned. “It’s streaming, right? You can watch it later. This is black-tie dress shopping. Even better than black tie.” She held up a single finger. “We are black-tie dress shopping on someone else’s dime, which is literally the best kind of dress shopping.” She grabbed Maggie’s hand. “No long faces. Come on. It’s Wednesday night and we are on an adventure.”

Her contagious enthusiasm pulled a laugh out of Maggie. “OK, OK.” She let Phoebe pull her into the T station and navigate them to the correct platform. “I haven’t bought a really nice dress in a long time, and I don’t know where to start.”

Phoebe was all business. “I have a few boutiques in mind. It’s the middle of the week, so we should have our run of the place.”

On the train, Phoebe shifted on the hard plastic orange seat to face Maggie. “Any news from your accountant?”

Maggie shook her head. “Nothing new. James has been keeping me posted, but ever since he turned over all the files, it’s been radio silence from the IRS.”

“But your accounts are still active.” Phoebe waved her hand. “Liquid. Whatever.”

“So far.” Maggie had been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop for weeks now. “He said there was nothing to know unless it turns into an actual investigation. If and when it does, then it’s lawyers and chaos from there.” She blew out a puff of air.

Phoebe let out a low whistle. “You tell Cora yet?”

“Fuck no.” Maggie shook her head. “There’s nothing to know until there’s something to know. She doesn’t need to worry.”

Phoebe’s frown deepened. “If you say so.”

“Come on.” Maggie shifted on the seat. “Dress shopping. I don’t want to think about accounting tonight.”

“OK. OK.” Phoebe visibly shook off the previous conversation. “Describe to me again what you’re looking for. I know you went on it over the phone. But I want it fresh in my mind.” She waved her hands back and forth like she was fanning herself, her long purple fingernails flashing.

“I want to look sexy. Femme fatale sexy.” Maggie had been mulling this over. “I’m thinking alluring, glam, like Hollywood glam but not necessarily vintage.” She didn’t always look good in vintage dresses. “But I also don’t want to look out of Blake’s league—”

“—Even though you are,” Phoebe interrupted.

Maggie frowned. “No, I wouldn’t say that. He’s a good-looking guy. Nerdy, but nerdy-hot. His body’s good: soft, but I like that. And he dresses well. And he’s really smart.”

Phoebe raised one eyebrow, and a flood of heat ran through Maggie. “What?” Maggie asked defensively. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just looking.” Phoebe raised a hand in an “I’m innocent, I swear” gesture. “You don’t want to look out of Blake’s league, which apparently you’re not.”

“I am not. We are in comparable leagues.” Unexplainably flustered, it took Maggie a moment to find her way back to her descriptions again. “I want to look sexy, but also … friendly and approachable.” She wasn’t sure if those went together. “Maybe that’s my demeanor. I want to look like I belong at this high-end charity fundraiser. And I want the donors to see me with him and say, ‘Ah, yes, that’s a reliable young man with a good woman on his arm, and we can trust him with our money.’” She did a “rich old man” voice for the last part.

Phoebe cackled. “Is that what the donors sound like?”

“Yes, as far as I remember. I haven’t been to a fancy fundraising event like this since before my parents died.” She had attended one or two as a teenager and only remembered being bored out of her mind.

Somehow, she knew going with Blake wouldn’t be boring.

They got off the train at the next stop, and the cool night air washed over Maggie as they climbed the stairs out of the station. “And you said you wanted to stay under a couple hundred dollars.” Phoebe frowned. “And therefore, I am not taking you to the nicest boutiques I know, which would get you into the thousand-dollar category. Even though it would be a lot of fun.”

“Good. I am not falling in love with a thousand-dollar dress.” Maggie shook her head emphatically. “I don’t want Blake to hate me.”

“I got you, boo.” Phoebe grabbed her hand again. “I’m just happy to get to lead you in on this adventure.”