Page 14 of Not So Very Sensible

“It’s a bit different, isn’t it?”

“It’s incredible! You look so good! I never thought you could look like this!”

Ellie’s lips lifted wryly.

Maybe Katie noticed, because she instantly exclaimed, “Not that I mean you usually look bad. But this isn’t at all like what you usually wear.”

“You’re right. It’s not me.”

“Oh, but it is! You need to buy this dress. It fits you perfectly, like it was made for you. And it’ll be perfect for tomorrow night.”

“I’ve already got something—”

“A cheap polyester thing from a costume shop like a million other people will have. Nobody else will have something as amazing as this.”

Ellie fingered one of the blue strands of sequins. It was pretty, but alas, “It costs far too much.”

“I don’t think so. It looks like a genuine vintage piece. Here, let me see the price label.”

Katie pushed Ellie down to peer inside the back, and whistled. “Whew. It is a lot.”

“Too much.” She restrained a sigh. It was a pretty dress. And seeing it was unlikely she’d ever marry and need a wedding gown, she’d probably never spend more on a dress than this one.

“You only live once,” Katie wheedled.

“But you can’t do everything.” She withheld a sigh and turned around. “Unzip me?”

Katie did not bother withholding her sigh as she obeyed. “Do you have to be so sensible all the time?”

“It’s part of my DNA, I’m afraid.” She shut the curtain and slipped reluctantly from the dress.

“Humph.” Katie sighed beyond the curtain. “We obviously don’t share the same DNA.”

While technically not true, it was easy to see why Katie thought that. And why everyone else might think that too, as she changed back into her clothes, then stared at her reflection. Old jeans, a brown heavy woollen jumper she’d chosen for warmth rather than style, seeing it didn’t do her figure any favours. Yep, that dress was a momentary aberration in her life. What was she doing, fantasising that she was Cinderella?

But still, wasting hundreds of dollars on a dress she’d wear a couple of hours at most? She could never justify the expense. She’d feel guilty about all the mouths that could be fed for the cost of this one, old yet beautiful dress. She replaced it on its hanger, then undid the curtains and found a smile. “Come on. We’ll need to leave soon if we’re going to make our high tea.”

Katie’s eyes lit. “Ooh, I almost forgot!”

As was so often the way. How Katie could survive without reminders and alarms, Ellie didn’t know. What Katie would do without her guiding the way, she didn’t want to know.

Ellie placed the dress back on the rack, eyed it one last time, then turned resolutely away. Some people were born to have adventures and be the star of the show, while others stood on the sidelines ready to prompt them with the lines. And all her life, despite her blue hair, she’d known what role was hers.

Her lips twisted. Good thing she was one hundred percent okay with that.

“Ethan, have you got the Larbow file ready?”

“Here.” He handed Gordon Phillips, his boss, his file, which didn’t even earn him a jerk of the chin acknowledgement before he exited.

Ah, Gordon. Master of the non-acknowledgement. Not that Ethan expected a medal for doing his job, but a little cordiality wouldn’t hurt, even if the legal world wasn’t known for warmth and kindness. Still, given the stress floating around the office, and the legal implications surrounding the plastic refinery case, he could understand Gordon was feeling pressure.

Ethan returned to his computer and worked through the notes he’d been given after the last council meeting. For some reason, the council had not sought to fight the plastic refinery that wanted to move into a small country town to “fill the air with pollutants” as some of the protestors maintained. The notes from the recent meeting weren’t extensive, but enough to suggest there was something at play here that required further investigation. Not his job per se, but still, as someone who had enjoyed time in that part of the world, he had no desire to see it succumb to a rich offshore company’s goals to recycle plastic. It needed to be in the right site at least, which definitely wasn’t only two hundred metres from people’s homes. Still, how he approached that—let alone found time to do it—was something he’d need to squeeze into the tiny free moments his work schedule permitted.

Not for the first time, he wondered about the wisdom of working here. Overworked, underappreciated, and despite what most people thought, underpaid. He could be describing youth work, but at least with youth group there was a tangible result, and teenagers didn’t mind sharing their feelings. Of course, some clients were overly transparent in sharing theirs, but that was often due to stress. Sometimes thanks to drugs or lack of sleep. He lived for those days when it felt like his work actually made a positive difference in someone’s life.

Several times over the years, he’d contemplated shifting gears and going to work in a branch of law that had more tangible results. Perhaps like his friend Aidan Quinn, who worked with victims of domestic violence and sought to get them safe and, where possible, recompensed. Or even working as a youth pastor. But his father had been adamant that “no son of mine will work in a career like that,” so he’d refrained. Keeping the peace and thus maintaining the relationship was sometimes worth the daily toll of stress-filled hours.

Some might call him a gullible fool, but they probably didn’t understand the secret ties that bound one. That made a man stand on his principles, even when everything within screamed that he should cut ties. Keeping one’s word seemed a rare commodity these days. But then, in a bid to prove himself different than the other men in his family, he’d known from a young age that he needed to be the circuit breaker in his family. Ever since Jesus had got a hold of his heart at the age of twelve, during a primary school scripture class, he’d realised that God wanted him to live a different way. Religious education might’ve been mandatory once upon a time—thanks to those Christian men a couple of centuries ago who’d had the foresight to see it mandated into New South Wales law—but Ethan hadn’t gotten religious. Just learned to revere. Then taken things to a new level of devotion a few years ago when his mom got sick, which had made him wake up to lots of things. Like Lucinda. And that serving God by serving in the church was something he really wanted to do, something spurred on by his work with youth. And while his dad, Francine, and Rob had thought his beliefs made Ethan foolishly gullible, he’d found a sense of peace and purpose far bigger than living up to the family legacy of political manoeuvring that he’d always hated. Where people smiled but couldn’t be bothered with learning one’s name. Made promises they never kept. Where people were treated as commodities and their level of wealth or importance affected how they were treated.