When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(74)
“You just had a baby,” Montana said sympathetically.
“Yeah, but my waist will never be this small.” Pia glared at Taryn. “Seriously, you’re what? A four?”
Taryn nodded. “Mostly.”
“They’ll fit me,” Noelle said, studying the dress Pia had on. “But your clothes are way too sophisticated. I am, however, having a serious love affair with some of your shoes.”
Annabelle Stryker, a petite redhead, walked up. “Everyone here is too tall. The only one I could exchange with is Consuelo, and we don’t share the same fashion sense.”
Taryn thought about Consuelo’s love of cargo pants and tank tops, then looked at Annabelle’s floral-print dress. “I can see how that wouldn’t work.” Not that Consuelo was at the exchange. She was still off honeymooning with Kent.
Taryn saw Bailey stepping out of one of the dressing rooms. The other woman had on a navy dress that came to just above her knees. It fit well, skimming over her curves. The scoop neck flattered without being too low. When she slid into the cropped jacket, Taryn understood what Isabel meant about the outfit being versatile.
Taryn crossed to the accessory table and grabbed a couple of scarves, then picked up a necklace and earrings.
“Try these on,” she said, offering the costume jewelry to Bailey. “Nothing says a woman is accomplished more than chunky jewelry.”
Isabel grinned. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“It’s a little-known truth in boardrooms across America.”
Bailey laughed. “I’ll try them, but I have to warn you, I’ve never owned a scarf—except to wear in the snow.”
“Then this is a first,” Taryn said as she put the scarf over Bailey’s shoulders.
Five minutes later they’d all agreed the dress was a hit, that the navy, cream and gold scarf worked, but with the dress alone. With the jacket, it was too busy. And that, yes, chunky jewelry made a woman look as though she was in charge.
“You did good,” Taryn whispered to Isabel when Bailey had returned to the dressing room. “That dress fits her perfectly.”
“I do have an eye,” Isabel said with a grin.
Nevada Janack, the triplet who’d greeted her and Angel at the wedding, came over with a deep purple Jimmy Choo tote in her hands. The leather was soft, with rows of buckles on the front.
“I don’t understand this,” Nevada said, lightly stroking the bag. “I don’t even carry a purse. But I have to have this. I have to.”
“Bag love is pure,” Taryn told her. “Especially the first time. I hope the two of you will be very happy together.”
Nevada nodded. “I’m putting in more than five dollars. It’s so beautiful—how could I buy it for so little? It would be wrong.”
As the money was going to a women’s shelter, Taryn was happy to encourage people to put in as much as they could afford.
She looked around at the event, pleased to see so many women trying on clothes and shoes. The bowl they were using to collect money for the exchange had already been emptied once that night, and it was going to have to be emptied again.
Taryn thought about how Mayor Marsha had forced her to solve the Bailey problem on her own and had a feeling that once again the wily politician had been right.
* * *
THE SITE OF the FWM all-grove campout was about fifteen miles outside town. It was a public camping area that the groves had taken over for the weekend. Not only were there lots of trees, permanent restrooms and big fire pits for group bonfires, but the campsites themselves were separated into two levels. The lower level, by the stream, and the upper level, closer to the parking lot. The latter provided parents who wanted to stay close but not get in the way of the experience a place to hover out of sight. If one of the girls needed a parental hug in the middle of the night, Mom and Dad were there to provide it.
Angel had parked in the designated “Grove Keeper” section of the parking lot. His SUV was filled with all kinds of gear—most of which was new. He was the kind of guy who loaded up a backpack and took to the mountains. But this was different. He wanted his girls to enjoy everything about the experience. Which meant roughing it had to be done in a gentle way.
He loaded up with as much as he could carry and headed down the steep trail to the lower campsite. A couple of other Grove Keepers were already there.
Large trees provided shade and cover. The east side of the site was up against the mountains. The stream cut through on the west side, then flowed along the edge of the grounds. With the warmer days, the snowpack was melting and the water moved at a fair clip. But it was shallow—eight inches or so. From what he could tell, the area wasn’t prone to flooding.
He found the Acorn section and put down his pack and a couple of boxes. There were two picnic tables and a marked, paved path led to the restrooms. The area for the tents was big enough for them to be pitched in a circle, with the entrances facing each other.
Angel had brought along a mallet to help secure the stakes, and a rake to clear the site before they pitched the tents. Although there were eight Acorns, they would be sleeping two to a tent. Including his tent and one for Taryn, that was a total of six. The space was plenty big.
For a second, he thought about sharing a tent with Taryn. They could zip their sleeping bags together—something he would enjoy. He gave himself a minute to think of her naked, her long legs tangling with his, then shook off the image. He had a feeling somewhere in the Grove Keeper Handbook was a rule forbidding unmarried Grove Keepers to have members of the opposite sex in their tents.