Angel Wings (3 page)

Sadness flattened her mood and her energy waned. And then the obvious question popped into her head. Why attend the wedding at all? Why not decline the invitation?

She
had
to go. Because if she didn’t, it would mean admitting how much they had hurt her. And she would never do that.

An image of her grandmother formed in her mind. Her grandmother rocking her, and telling her it was all right to be sad. She shrugged the thought away.

A different, more persistent, part of her brain took over, with the familiar mantra of move on . . . move on . . . move on . . . . But she could not move on. It was as if part of her wanted to keep this pain, and nurse it. Because at least it was pain, and pain was a feeling, instead of the awful emptiness that haunted her.

“Where are you going?”

She snapped back to the moment and slowed her steps. She almost stopped walking, but she forced herself to continue. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought we agreed to meet after work?” Gabe kept pace with her. “You’re going dress shopping now.”

“So?”

“So I want to come.”

“Why?”

“I’m good at picking out dresses. And besides—”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “And besides what? You don’t think I can pick out a good enough dress?”

“I don’t think you
want
to pick out a good enough dress.”

“I don’t.”

“You deserve a pretty dress.”

I do? she thought. Her figment was flattering her. Which was ridiculous. She turned to walk away.

“Jessi. Hold on a minute. Let’s talk about this.” They stood in front of one of the green benches that lined the street. “Sit.”

Ambivalence tugged at her. And then she gave a mental shrug. Why not? It was a beautiful spring day. She’d been running all morning, getting files, making coffee, welcoming clients. She deserved to sit for a few minutes.

“What color?”

“Of dress?”

“Something that will bring out the gold in your eyes.”

Her breath hitched and she caught herself looking into his eyes. His pupils dilated, leaving a rim of deep brown stroked with green lines.

“Jessibelle!”

A thick lump pressed in her throat and she jerked away from Gabe. Her used-to-be Best Friend had spotted her. “Hanna. What a surprise. How are you?”

“Jessibelle, you crazy girl. I was trying to get your attention. I saw you over here talking to yourself. You’ve got to quit doing that in public. People will think you’re crazy.”

Hanna laughed and Jessibelle forced herself to smile. Then she glanced to her side. Gabe was still sitting there.

“She can’t see me,” he said, spreading his arms across the back of the bench.

That feathery light feeling invaded her senses again and she felt her heart speed up. Naturally Hanna could not see him.

Still, Jessibelle had been half hoping that maybe—

“Did you get your invitation?”

Of course she had. “Oh yes. It arrived yesterday. I wasn’t sure you’d have room on the guest list for me.”

Amazement lit Hanna’s face. “Of course we have room for you! If it wasn’t for you, we never would have met. Oh, Jessibelle. I am so very happy. I really am.” And then a sudden thought. “You know what?”

“What?”

“We need you to make a speech.”

“No, Hanna. I will not make a speech.”

Hanna laughed again, radiating her bubbling joy. “You’re no fun,” she said. “At least, think about it, okay?”

Jessibelle would try very hard to not think about it.

“We miss you at the Registrar’s office. How’s the new job at City Realty?”

“It’s fantastic,” Jessibelle answered, trying to throw the weight of her smile into her response.

“I’m so glad we met. You’re always busy. How’s Spanish class? Are you still trying to learn that language?”

“You should learn French,” Gabe said.

“Why?”

Hanna frowned. “What do you mean, why?”

Gabe grinned. “It’s the language of love,” he said.

· · · · ·

The problem remained. She needed a dress.

Gabe had disappeared while she was talking to Hanna. Jessibelle had pleaded her need to run errands and cut the interview short. Hanna had vowed they would meet for coffee soon.

And now she had twenty minutes left of her noon hour to search the racks at Market Outlet and find something for the wedding. Hopefully for a bargain price.

She pulled out one dress from the crowded rack and held it at arm’s length. A brown sleeveless dress with a jacket. The jacket, with its three-quarter length sleeves, boasted some beading on the front. The dress ruffled at the bottom. The length would hit between her knees and her ankles.

“You’re not buying that,” Gabe said.

She only jumped a little. She must be getting used to him popping in. “I think it looks nice.”

“You don’t want nice. You want sexy.”

“I don’t do sexy,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “You do.”

“Will you get out of here. I have to finish shopping.”

“You will. After work. At the
Jolie Femme
.”

“I’m not going there.”

“Sure you are. Now get back to the office.”

That said, he touched her shoulder—a solid physical grip—turned her around, and swatted her butt.

The shock of his touch startled her and she dropped the dress. She could feel heat rushing to her face and the lingering sensation of his hand on her butt. Had he actually swatted her butt?

“Can I help you?” the saleslady asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Jessibelle said, stooping to pick up the fallen dress. “Just looking.”

· · · · ·

When Jessibelle turned around, Gabe had disappeared, again. She never actually saw him disappear. He was just there one second, and the next time she looked, he wasn’t.

At any rate, she did have to get back to work. They liked her at City Realty because she was dependable. She was a dependable, nice person.

She would never be a sexy person.

Jessibelle lightly held the rail of the escalator and considered her next move. Perhaps after work, she could return here, to Market Outlet, and shop some more. Surely, she’d be able to find a dress that—

All of a sudden, panic froze her heart and she gripped the rail. She forced air into her lungs and tried to breathe slowly, but she couldn’t. Because standing on the main floor ahead of her was beautiful, blonde Daphne Whithammer, waiting for the escalator to deliver Jessibelle right into Daphne’s clutches.

Jessibelle wanted to turn around and climb back up. But that would not have looked right.

“Hello, Jessibelle. Haven’t seen you in awhile. How’s the new job?”

“It’s great,” Jessibelle lied. “How are things in Events Planning?”

“Excellent,” Daphne informed her. “After my lunch break I have a meeting with the Horticultural Society to discuss plans for their Spring Tea.”

That partly explained the power suit Daphne wore. The black pin stripe jacket and skirt, and the immaculate white blouse. But then Daphne always looked stylish. And Jessibelle always didn’t.

“Shopping?”

“Trying to.”

“Shopping is a challenge for you.”

A ripple of shock blasted through Jessibelle, even though she was used to this treatment from Daphne. Still, it was hard to believe a person could be so blunt.

Daphne’s eyes swept Jessibelle in a slow assessment from the top of her flyaway brown hair to the tips of her practical brown shoes. “Not to be rude or anything, but you’re not exactly the world’s best dresser.”

Jessibelle looked down at her cream colored blouse and her brown slacks. Her clothing was functional. She had not been hired as a showpiece. “The company I work for doesn’t care about—”

“You missed the shower I planned,” Daphne said, checking her watch.

So
that
was it. Understanding dawned in Jessibelle’s weary mind. Daphne felt slighted. That explained her lack of civility, this time. “Sorry,” Jessibelle said. “Couldn’t make it. Too busy at work.”

Of course, Daphne wouldn’t believe this excuse. But Jessibelle hadn’t had the heart to drag herself to her used-to-be Best Friend’s bridal shower. She just could not go.

Daphne tapped her watch, apparently deciding she had time for a quick interrogation. “Are you invited to the wedding?”

No need to define Which Wedding, since there was only one spring wedding that mattered. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m surprised.”

“Because Rodney and I used to date?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t think Hanna would want his old girlfriend around.”

“Rodney and I are just friends.”

“Right. You weren’t really his type, were you?”

Was there a way to get out of this conversation?

“You know what he told me?” Daphne continued, clearly enjoying the conversation, even though it wasn’t technically a conversation, since Daphne was doing all the talking.

Maybe, Jessibelle thought, she could look away. She could pretend to be interested in something that was happening behind Daphne. Like that saleslady attaching price tags, or that young girl looking at socks. Or that mother and her small son who were headed toward them.

“He said that when he kissed you, it was like kissing his sister.” Daphne laughed.

“Yes, Daphne, that’s funny. I’m glad you shared that.”

The saleslady finished with her price tags, the young girl chose red socks and the little boy held on to his mother’s hand as they walked. He was eating an ice cream cone.

“The wedding’s May first. Have you got that written down somewhere?”

“It’s on the invitation,” Jessibelle said, without thinking. But she shouldn’t have said anything. She should have ignored the question and not encouraged Daphne.

The mother and her son had almost reached them. Jessibelle looked at the ice cream cone. And then she looked again.

She could have sworn it was a single scoop, but no, it was a double-decker chocolate ice cream cone. Odd, she thought, for such a little boy to have such a big ice cream cone.

“Would you look at the time,” Daphne said. “I’d better get to my meeting. Can’t be late. Good luck with the shopping.”

“Good luck with your meeting.”

As Daphne turned to go, the little boy took a quick bite of his ice cream, then whipped the cone away from his face. Somehow the top ball tipped off, sailing into the front of Daphne’s white blouse, and drooled down her suit jacket.

The child, oblivious to what had happened, continued on his way.

Daphne’s mouth fell open as she stared at the chocolate blob on her chest. She leaned over and fanned her white blouse, trying to get the ice cream to drop off.

Jessibelle looked around quickly for Gabe, but she couldn’t see him.

· · · · ·

For the first time since she’d started working at City Realty, Jessibelle finished on time. Not everything was finished, but everything that absolutely needed to be done for tomorrow was done. By the time the evening receptionist came in at four-thirty, Jessibelle was ready to go shopping again.

“You caught up yet?” Betsy asked.

Betsy shared the evening reception job with two other high school girls. The three of them juggled the hours among themselves, depending on their after-school commitments.

“I don’t have time to do any filing, ya know,” Betsy told her, as she unloaded books from her sack. “I’ve got homework for tomorrow. We’re studying Romeo and Juliet in English class.”

“Just answer the phone.” Jessibelle slipped on her jacket, picked up her purse, and wondered again about going to the
Jolie Femme
. That type of store catered to clients with excellent taste and lots of money, so, not her kind of store. But what should she do about a dress?

Almost as if answering her question, her used-to-be Best Friend Hanna pushed open the big glass door of City Realty.

“Wow,” Hanna said. “We meet twice in one day.”

Uncertainty flooded Jessibelle’s mind as she stared at her old friend. “What are you doing here?”

Hanna laughed. “Not hello? Not great to see you? Lighten up, Jessibelle. I’m here to help you pick out a dress.”

Gabe was here to help her pick out a dress.

The thought had flashed through her brain. And then Jessibelle felt her mind twist. Gabe was a figment of her imagination, and here she was thinking of him like he might be real.

Oddly, she found herself preferring his help over Hanna’s. That probably meant she wanted to do the shopping by herself.

“How did—”

“How did I know you were shopping today? Well, of course, Daphne told me.”