Bayou Born(47)

“I saw the news.”

“Ah. TV.”

“Yes, the shootout made the news. I had to know that you’re okay.” Did she sound whiney? Too concerned?

“I’m doing fine, now that I’m talking to you.” Was he drinking? Or flirting? Maybe he wasn’t out on a date after all. Her imagination had worked overtime.

“I am happy to hear your fine. I won’t keep you.”

“I’m just hoisting a few brews with Bobby at our fleabag motel.”

“Have a good—”

“I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice was low and sultry. Seductive.

Quivers raced from her head to her toes. She wanted to crawl into bed with the phone and have James whisper to her all night.

“Good thoughts?” Dare she ask for the truth?

“Oh, yeah. You could say that. Miss Lind, would you go out on an official date with me tomorrow night?”

“Official?”

“This is me asking you proper for a Saturday-night date.”

Her heart pounded. Loud. The sound roared in her ears.

Hearing his voice provided great relief, however, the offer of a date made her giddy.

“Branna?”

“Yes. James.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear your dancing shoes.”





Chapter 33

The next morning, Branna’s bedroom showed no bare spot. Skirts and tops and dresses laid strewn across the bed, the dresser, and a chair. A Neiman Marcus dollar-sale couldn’t have resulted in greater chaos. She wanted nothing more than perfection for her date that night with James; which required trying on every item of clothing she owned.

Why she thought she could put together a jaw-dropping outfit remained a mystery. Always saddled with “reputation” and “family honor” the best she could manage was “conservative” and “tailored.” A tired image she wanted to shake.

A black dress with black low heels, a clutch and pearls might work at the country club, but it didn’t inspire anyone, most of all her, to dance...and more. Bless James for his courage. The man wanted to take her dancing, even after experiencing her total ineptitude. In the future, maybe she could limit the damage to his feet by taking a few dance classes. Surely, she wasn’t a hopeless case. She prided herself on being a good student.

But that didn’t solve the immediate problem. How to look amazing. She needed that to balance out the number of times she’d be saying “sorry” to his toes.

She remembered seeing several women carrying shopping bags with the logo from the dress shop downtown. Shopping local would be her contribution to the economy. She reached for the phonebook. Flipping through the pages, she found the advertisement she sought, then punched the number into her phone and waited for someone to answer.

“Lovely Ladies. This is Clara.”

“I need a dancing dress for tonight. Might you have something that fits that bill?”

“We have a few spring dresses remaining. Our summer collection just came out. Our previews usually run closer to the actual season than stores in big cities. You could take a look online—” A beeping sound blocked out Clara’s voice. Branna looked at caller ID. When she didn’t recognize the number, she ignored the call.

“—come in now, our seamstress is here to make any needed alterations, especially if you need a dress for tonight.”

“I need a dress that says, fun. I’ll be down in a little while. This is a special occasion, and I need a wow outfit. Size eight.”

She pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and slid into sandals. Fumbling underneath the stack of clothes on her dresser, she tried to find her keys. Her fingers wrapped around a set, not for the Volvo, but the Mercedes. The car made her think of her sister.

She still hadn’t reached Camilla. It appeared that the mountains of Wyoming hampered cell service. Did some version of the pony express still exist there? Otherwise, how did people communicate? It saddened her that her relationship with her sister had become mostly non-existent in the last eight months. It was one thing for them to disagree about any given topic, but betrayal? Disloyalty so harsh that it would hurt everyone one in the family. Could Camilla be so selfish? When they were younger, they shared with each other after each of their dates. Camilla was always competitive. She had even tried to steal a boyfriend or two when they were in their early teens. Hadn’t they outgrown that childishness? But there were good growing-up memories also. Back before Steven.

Her cell phone rang as she headed out the door. Same number as before. Whoever called earlier hadn’t left a message. Probably a wrong number, or a reporter still looking for a follow-up story. She ignored the call, but couldn’t ignore the frequency of the annoying intrusions.

She arrived at the dress shop in mere minutes. A bell tinkled when she opened the door.

“Welcome to Lovely Ladies.” The woman who greeted her wore a dress that looked like a colorful Monet painting, and she dripped in ropes of pearls. Branna counted six.

“I’m Branna. I’m looking for Clara. I’m on the hunt for a party dress.”

“She’s already pulled a few in hopes that you’d come. Please follow me. Clara, you have a customer.”

When Branna stepped into a dressing room, it suddenly struck her. She’d never shopped for a special outfit without her mother or sister or cousin, or some female in her extended family. She’d lived joined-at-the-hip for her entire life, which she now understood, had its benefits. There was always someone to share her joy. She thought of Ida and her loneliness.

Clara arrived before she closed the dressing room door.

“Take a look at those hanging there. None of them scream conservative. Try them all on. You never know which one is perfect until it’s on your body.”

“Ah...the sequined corset with the feather skirt looks like it’s waiting for a good time, but...it’s just not me. Too over the top. Even if it looked good on, I don’t have the confidence to pull it off. It’s way out of my comfort zone.”

The scooped-neck, zebra-print dress made her hips look wide. The hem of the purple ruched, keyhole one landed too high on her thigh. A pink sweetheart, beaded and fringed dress looked like something a flapper wore in the 1920’s. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, either the fit or the cut or the fabric of each dress challenged her patience. She was either too short or too hippy or too something. Was there a dress that showed her attributes just enough to be alluring and boost her confidence?

“This is a really special night, isn’t it?” Clara asked.

“So special. It’s an official first date with the man I’m going to marry.” She couldn’t believe she’d said aloud what her heart had been preaching.

“You think he’s really the one?”

“My heart does, and that’s all I’m listening to right now.”

“Well, I have a dress...it was made for someone, and she rejected it when it came in. You said you didn’t want black, but this one’s special. Beaded cap sleeves with a cowl neckline. Ruched from the waist down. Not too short. If you want to try it on...”

“Bring it to me, sister.” Branna laughed. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Clara helped her slip the jersey over her head. The fabric floated over her body.

“Before you look in the mirror, slip on these shoes. I think they’re your size. They’re Manolo Blahnik. Never worn. I got them new at a high-end consignment store when I was last in Miami. The straps will keep your feet in them, no matter the type of dancing. Now come out here to the three way mirror.”

On a dais, Branna stared at her reflection. Her palms smoothed the fabric that hugged her body. “Wow.”

“It’s perfect on you.” Clara beamed as though she’d made the match of the century.

“I will have to thank the woman who didn’t want this dress. It’s mine now. May I buy the shoes too?”

“I’ll wrap it all up for you while you change.”

The dress made her feel so good that even if James intended to take her to that honky-tonk again, she wouldn’t care if she was over dressed. Besides, she had a big surprise for him.





Chapter 34

The clock on the wall clicked to six forty-five. Branna paced in the living room and tried not to pick at the new red polish on her nails. The manicurist had said red, a nail-color neutral, always went with anything. Branna’s plan to be ready and waiting when James arrived hadn’t taken into account the butterflies in her stomach or the dryness in her mouth.

Buzz. Buzz.

The ringing cell phone sent her diving for her clutch on the kitchen counter. She held her breath. James wouldn’t call to cancel their date, would he? Had his return trip delayed him? Was his injury causing a problem?

Caller ID glowed. She wasn’t familiar with the phone number, but recognized it as the same one from earlier. The one that had called twice before. “Hello?”