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“I saw a show on Netflix about senior citizens in homes and how they have a high rate of STDs, so I—”
“Please, Grandmother, no details,” she said, shaking her head. “Am I going to have to take Netflix away from you?”
Lottie snorted. Then she dropped onto her bed. “So what are you going to wear? Better make it good. You’re likely to think that boy is used to fancy girls, and I know how you feel about yourself.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.
“You don’t know how beautiful you are. Likely you’re comparing yourself to whatever actress he went out with in the past.”
Dismay flooded her. “He went out with an actress?”
“Probably a few. That boy got around. But your grandfather got around too, until he met me.” Lottie smiled sassily. “Once he met me, he didn’t look at any other woman. And it wasn’t just because I was a tiger in bed.”
“Grandmother,please.” That wasnotan image she needed. She turned back to her closet and drew out a black dress she’d bought shortly before she’d left Kevin. It was a wrap dress, so she could probably cinch it tight enough where it wouldn’t look loose on her like her other clothes.
“Not that dress,” Lottie said firmly. “Really, sweetheart, you’re not going to a funeral.”
“I don’t have any other nice dresses, Lottie.”
“Wait here.”
She watched her grandmother leave her room. What was she up to? Rachel glanced at the condoms and shuddered. She probably didn’t want to know.
She was swiping on mascara when Lottie swept back into the room. There was a hanger in her hand, and dangling from it was a dark-red dress. Lottie held it out to her. “Try this.”
She gaped at it. It had a sweetheart bodice, strapless, fitted at the waist and then flaring into a full skirt with tulle in the same deep red peeking from underneath. She walked over to it and touched the fabric reverently. “Where did you get that?”
“My closet,” Lottie replied like she was slow. “I wore it only once for a New Year’s Eve party ages ago. Your grandfather couldn’t keep his hands off me that night.” Her grandma winked.
“TMI, Grandma,” she said distractedly, taking the hanger from her hand.
“When you say that, I just think of your job, and I want to stick my tongue out.” Lottie sat back down on the bed. “Try the dress on.”
Rachel slipped off her robe, took off her bra, unzipped the dress, and stepped into it. As she drew it up, Lottie waved her over to help her zip it up. Then she turned to her mirror.
It was perfect.
“I knew it’d fit like a glove,” Lottie said, nodding. “I used to be a skinny thing like you. Wear the gold strappy shoes you bought for your dad’s cousin’s wedding.”
“Really?”
“Really. They were adorable, and they’ll look lovely with the dress. You need more color in your life. Your word isshine.”
She found the sandals in the back of her closet, buried under some discarded sweaters she’d never gotten around to folding. She pulled them out and, sitting on the floor, slipped them on. They were open at the heel, which meant her feet got a happy reprieve. The kitten heels were surprisingly comfortable. With any luck, she’d be able to walk without limping.
Lottie supervised the rest of her makeup, telling her to deepen her lipstick and fussing with her hair before decreeing her ready. Jamie rang the doorbell right as she got her shawl and clutch.
Lottie walked her to the door, her arm around Rachel’s waist. “Listen to me, Rachel. Set aside everything you think is right and you have fun tonight. You deserve this. Young men like yours don’t come around every day, so enjoy him.”
“Yes, Grandma.” She held her hand up. “Please don’t go into detail about what that means.”
Laughing, Lottie patted her back and kissed her cheek.
Facing the door, she took a deep breath and opened it.
Jamie stood on the porch with a bouquet of a rainbow array of the most plump, luxurious roses she’d ever seen. He was dressed in a beautiful blue suit with bold pinstripes that looked handmade to fit him perfectly. He wore a dark-blue shirt underneath, open at the collar, and a red silk pocket square that was similar to her dress. She didn’t know anything about shoes, or fashion for that matter, but his footwear looked just as expensive as the rest of his outfit.
She gestured to it. “You got the memo about the red.”
