stand up for me as if I were really his wife?
I went to the boutique on Saturday, slipping into the newest jeans I had and a pretty decent blouse that didn't have a single stain on it. Still, the moment the bell jingled above my head as I walked through the door, I was painfully aware of being out of my element. I ought to have worn high heels, or gotten my hair done, or something . One of the sales girls came over to me, and I felt like her smile was a little bit forced.
"Can I help you?" she asked, looking me up and down.
"I need a dress," I said. "I'm sure you can tell I'm out of my element. Daniel Thorne told me to come here, he said -"
"Oh, of course ." Her demeanor instantly thawed. "Right over here, Ms. Wainright. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name's Emma. I've pulled a few pieces for you. Let me know what you think. Mr. Thorne wasn't sure of your size, but I'm sure we can find it if you like any of them."
"To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I know my size either. It's been so long since I've bought a dress." I looked up at what she'd chosen for me; there was something black and slinky and something else in a deep purple, and more behind those that I couldn't really see.
"Let's take your measurements, then. Step into a fitting room." She was already unwinding a tailor's tape.
Once she'd wrapped it around my waist, hips, and bust, she scribbled a few things on a notepad I hadn't even noticed she had. "All right," she said. "A few of these will probably fit you just fine, but we can work with the others as well. Why don't you try the black one on first?"
I stepped out of my clothes and slipped it over my head, spinning around in the mirror as the folds of fabric settled on the curves and contours of my body. I had to admit I liked the way it clung to my chest, but I wasn't happy with the overall shape of it. I looked to Emma for guidance.
She shook her head. "It's not quite right for you. I had a feeling it wouldn't be. Try the purple."
Close, but it still didn't look right to me. Then again, I wasn't sure if my expectations of how I would look in a dress were very realistic. I was thinking of magazine photo shoots airbrushed all to hell. No matter what I wore, I was still going to have all the lumps and bumps of a real human woman.
Emma was tugging at the hem. It fell at an odd place, just below my knee, which threw off the whole look of the dress.
"We can take this in a little bit, if you end up liking it," she said. "But let's try something else. I think Mr. Thorne wants you to have something off the rack. He made it sound like time was a factor, and I've got a few clients ahead of you in line for alterations."
I nodded, and she dug through her selections for a moment, finally pulling out something in the deepest shade of midnight blue I'd ever seen. Instantly, the color transported me back to a fond childhood memory of walking through the mall, hand-in-hand with my mom, before things went sour between us. I'd look up at the massive skylights that lined the main concourses, just after dusk, seeing the sky just as it turned this particular shade of blue. I couldn't explain why, but something about that color always made my young heart swell with the beauty of it.
Emma was smiling. "Here," she said. "I can tell you're in love with it already. Try it on."
It was light and silky, fitting over me like a second skin, but not clinging too tight. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at my reflection. Almost instinctively, I reached up and undid my ponytail, letting my hair fall loose around my shoulders. I tossed my head. Now I looked like someone who belonged on Daniel's arm.
Emma's smile had broken into a grin, lighting her whole face up with the satisfaction of a job well done. I felt a scratch against my armpit, and I remembered for the first time that these dresses had price tags. But as I lifted my arm and tried to grab onto the tag with my other hand, Emma stepped forward and