Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(45)
“No, a counselor is someone who can help with executive functioning skills like prioritization of tasks and time management. The research says—”
He held up a hand. “Liz, I’m fine.”
She bit her lip. “Of course you are.”
He blew out another breath. There was probably some truth to what she was saying, but knowing that didn’t make him happy to be analyzed like a lab specimen.
He shook his head then abruptly turned, leaning forward and peering at a point near her left ear.
She stepped back. “What are you looking at?”
“There’s something…” He squinted and leaned closer.
She flicked at the area with her hand. “What? Is there something in my hair?”
“No. It’s… hmm. Wow. You might want to get that checked out.”
“What is it?”
He stepped back. “I’m no expert, but it appears to be a pretty advanced case of over-zealousness. I wouldn’t leave it untreated if I were you.”
She pursed her lips. “Ha. Ha.”
“No, seriously, I wouldn’t fool around with that. I’m sure there are treatments available. Counseling. Medications…”
She had the grace to look chagrined. “Let me know when you need help with that screaming later.”
“Will do.” He watched her walk away, her ponytail bouncing.
Screeding, he corrected. But only to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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“TELL ME AGAIN WHY you’re going to this thing tonight?” Trish asked for the third time since she’d stopped by. She sat on Liz’s bed and half-bounced, half-patted Clara in her lap.
It was Friday afternoon, and Liz had taken a break from working on the house to figure out what she planned to wear to the reunion dinner that evening.
She made a face at herself in the mirror. “I thought it would be fun?”
“Fun like a root canal. And, please, tell me you aren’t wearing that.”
Liz looked down at herself. “I’m wearing this.”
“You won’t even look like a wallflower in that, you’ll just blend in with the wall!”
“Black is slimming,” Liz retorted, albeit feebly. “Besides, I packed for remodeling and cleaning, not dinner dances. This is the best I could do.”
“You look like a post. You owe it to all the overweight, unpopular girls out there to go shopping. You’ve come so far.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Come on, I’ve only got an hour before preschool lets out.”
“I’m not buying a new—”
“Shut-up. I’ve got credit cards, too. We’re going.”
Twenty minutes later, Liz was pushing the baby in her stroller while Trish rapidly sifted through dresses on the racks of the town’s only boutique dress shop. Trish held up a navy shift, shook her head, and popped it back on the rack. “If we don’t like anything here, we still have time to try Second Chances. But consignment shops are so hit or miss, and we don’t have time to get anything cleaned…”
“Dress slacks and a tailored blouse are considered classic,” Liz said as Trish rifled through the hangers.
“Don’t make me vomit. You look like a waiter. We’ll find something. It’s got to be sophisticated, but funky. Not too long, a little sexy... A-ha!” Trish whipped her selection off the rack and thrust it at Liz. “It’s perfect! But it’s the only one, so make it fit.”
Liz frowned at the dress. Okay, so it was rather nice, with a fitted, sleeveless bodice, v-neck and full, just-above-the-knee skirt. It had a retro flavor, but the rich plum silk gave it a modern feel. Still, maybe she should keep things casual. After suggesting Carter get counseling yesterday, it might be better to not get too worked up about tonight.
A few moments later, Liz stepped out of the dressing room.
“It’s perfect!” Trish nearly squealed, yanking the zipper up.
Liz struggled to take a breath. “The bodice is a little snug.”
“Then skip the bra.” Trish fluffed the crinoline underskirt. “I tell you, it’s perfect. And I have just the necklace to go with it. Did you bring heels? Never mind. I saw some fabulous shoes in the window next door.” She yanked the zipper down again and pushed Liz toward the changing room. “We’ll take it,” she announced to the salesgirl across the shop.
“Thank you. You’re being awfully nice,” Liz said a short while later as she loaded her new purchases into Trish’s minivan. She had refused to let Trish pay after Trish had revealed they were hinting at more lay-offs in Russ’ company.
Trish shrugged and snapped the baby seat into the car. “I kind of jumped ship when we were teenagers. I didn’t get to help you primp for your prom or any of that sisterly stuff.” She eyed Liz’s somber outfit. “And I think it’s high time the world stopped seeing you as just a brain.”
“Thanks.” Liz glanced out the window at passing traffic. She’d missed this, she realized. They’d been closer once—she and Trish. They’d shared a room, secrets. But that was before the awkward, difficult teenage years and life events had pushed them apart.
“So, you’re saying you want the world to see me as a liver and pancreas, too?”