Love & Gelato(76)

“Oh. But I thought that you and Ren . . .” She trailed off.

“You thought me and Ren what?”

Howard glanced at Sonia, then met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “You know how in English we say that people wear their hearts on their sleeves? Well, in Italian, you say ‘avere il cuore in mano.’ You hold your heart in your hand. Every time Ren looks at you I think of that saying. He’s crazy about you.”

“No, he isn’t.”

Sonia chimed in. “Of course he is. And you can’t blame him. Look at you. The poor thing can’t help himself.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“He does?” Howard asked.

I nodded.

“Well, how do you feel about him?”

They both looked at me and I managed to stay quiet for about three seconds before blowing like a volcano.

“Fine. I’m in love with him. I’m completely in love with Ren. Besides Addie, he’s the only person I’ve ever been around who makes me feel normal, and he’s hilarious and weird and he has a gap between his front teeth that I love. But none of that matters because he has a girlfriend, and yesterday I must have had a momentary lapse in sanity, because I kissed him and it totally freaked him out. Also, his girlfriend looks straight out of a fashion magazine and whenever Ren sees me I’m either sweaty or crying. So now I’m dressing up and going to a party in hopes that I’ll get his attention long enough for him to at least talk to me, so I can tell him how I really feel and try to at least salvage our friendship. So there. That’s how I feel about Ren.”

Howard and Sonia both looked stunned.

I slumped back in my seat. “That’s why I need the perfect dress.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Sonia turned to Howard. “Is money an object?”

“No.”

“Then turn left. I know where we need to go.”



Howard drove us straight to a dress shop near the center of the city, and after we’d parked, all three of us got out and ran the three blocks from the parking center. When we burst into the shop, the woman behind the counter looked up in alarm.

“Cos’è successo?”

“Stiamo cercando il vestito più bello nel mondo.” He turned to me. “She needs The Dress.”

The woman studied us for a moment, then clapped her hands. “Adalina! Sara! Venite qui.”

Two women emerged from the back room, and after going through the same exchange with Howard, they pulled out their tape measures and started measuring my waist and butt and bust and . . . yeah. It was pretty embarrassing.

Finally they started grabbing dresses from all over the store, then hustled me over to a dressing room and stuffed me and the dresses inside. I wriggled out of my running clothes and pulled the first one over my head. It was cotton-candy pink and reminded me of the time I’d thrown up on a Ferris wheel. The second one was yellow and feathery and looked suspiciously like Big Bird’s carcass. The third wasn’t terrible, but the straps were so big they hovered a full inch above my shoulders, and the party was tonight—I couldn’t just take it to a tailor for alterations. I looked at myself sternly in the mirror. Don’t panic. But my hair panicked anyway. Or maybe that was just how it always looked.

“How’s it going?” Sonia called from outside.

“Nothing yet.”

“Try this one.” She tossed another one over the door and I quickly changed into it. White and poofy. I looked exactly like a marshmallow. On her wedding day.

“Oh, no,” I wailed. “None of these are right. What if I can’t find it?”

“I brought you to this place for a reason. Let me see if the shopkeeper’s oldest daughter is around. She’s a dress genie. Be right back.”

I stepped up to the mirror and looked at myself again. Not only did I not look forgivable, but I looked ridiculous. There was no way I was going to win Ren back looking like something I roasted at Girl Scout camp.

“Lina?” Sonia knocked on the door. Then the door opened and she and another woman stepped in.

The woman was in her late thirties and had her hair pulled up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it. She looked like she meant business. She gestured for me to spin around.

“No. Tutto sbagliato.”

“D’accordo,” Sonia said. “She says this one is all wrong.”

“Will you ask her to find me one that’s all right?”

“Don’t worry. It’s what she’s good at. Let her work.”

The woman stepped forward, cupping my chin in her hands. She turned my face back and forth, studying my features, then stepped back and motioned for me to do another spin. Finally she nodded and held up her hand. “Ho il vestito perfetto. Wait.”

When she came back she was holding a pinkish-nude-colored dress with embellished lace all over the top and a short flowy skirt. I took it from her, holding it up in front of me.

“This one?” I asked.

“Yes. Thees one,” she said firmly. She stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

I took off the marshmallow dress and eased the new one over my head. The fabric was smooth and silky-feeling, and it slipped easily over my chest and hips, landing in the exact right spot.

I didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know that it was the one.