Can't Let You Go (21 page)

“A lack of talent?”

“I’ve seen plenty of your high school productions. You’ve got something.”

“I think they call it mediocrity.”

“Well, if f fear is what’s stopping you, it’s a dumb excuse. When you get old like me, you realize how many chances you let pass you by because you were afraid—of looking stupid, of rejection, of failing. Take it from me, you’ve got more to lose by not giving this acting thing a shot than by going out there and falling on your face.”

“I thought Mrs. Hall loved her teaching job.”

“But she’ll always wonder. What if she had tried to make it on Broadway? Where would she be now?”

“I’ve had my taste of it.”

Loretta folded her arms on the table and leaned toward me. “And how was it?” She let that question soak in for a while. “How did you feel up there on that big stage in front of all those people? How did that applause sound?”

I could picture myself there. Standing in the spotlight. Delivering that first line.

Listening to the crowd laugh at my character’s witty barbs.

“It’s a high.” I couldn’t afford to recall every blessed nuance. “There’s no feeling like it.”

“You know what that sensation is?” Loretta asked. “It’s what it feels like when you’re doing exactly what you were put on this earth to do. Katie, if a dream grabbed you fiercely with its mighty teeth, then don’t let it drop you. Don’t let this go. Because nothing else will satisfy you. And if you think you’re bitter now, you just wait until twenty years pass by. Because that bitterness only grows by the day. There’s no greater waste than a life unfulfilled.”

“I’m truly not good enough.”

“Says who?”

“People who know what they’re talking about.”

“I want names.”

I chuckled lightly. “I can give you names, newspaper reviews.”

“You can’t be a total genius right out of the chute. You got a lucky break getting that big role right out of school, but maybe it was too much too soon. Maybe what you need is practice. Experience. You think I could flip those omelets in the pan on the first try?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I could, but I’m just freakishly gifted.” She chortled and swatted my arm with her big hand.

“I should get back to work.” I stood and pushed in my chair.

“Katie?”

“Yes?”

“Your drama teacher?” Loretta pushed her pen back into her hair, and her gaze held no more teasing. “She bought a bus ticket to New York when she was seventeen. Our daddy found out and called her three kinds of a fool. Told her she was wasting her time, that few people would ever make it, and she wouldn’t be one of them.”

“Did she go?”

“No,” Loretta said. “No, she didn’t. She went to college and got married to the first boy who told her yes. But what if she’d gone?” The questions rang with a reverb in my ears. “What if she’d made it? What if she had followed her passion . . . instead of her fear?”

I didn’t have the answers.

And I didn’t know if I ever would.

“H
ow can I
get married without a dress?” Frances asked when I met her at Vivi’s after my shift for my very last fitting. “What kind of bride am I if I can’t even make this simple decision?”

“Don’t panic yet.” There was no need. I was panicking enough for both of us.

“I’ve still got the one from that shop in Dallas, but it’s not the one. Remind me never to get married again. I’m terrible at this.”

“I’m sure it’s the nerves. You have a lot going on all at once.” I pulled open the heavy glass door and walked inside. “How’s Joey holding up?” Let the record show I was trying. I wanted to like my best friend’s future husband.

“He’s great.” Her forehead wrinkled in a rare-sighted frown. “But he still hasn’t found a job in Cambridge. He’s pretty worried about it.”

“And you?”

“I’m a little concerned too. But it’ll work out, right?”

“I’m sure it will.” Even I could hear the doubt in my voice.

“Ladies, welcome back!” Vivi held out her arms like wings. “Your bridesmaid is here for her last fitting, correct?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Excellent. Right this way.” In a cloud of perfume, Vivi led me to the back where she retrieved the dress then guided me to a dressing room.

“I’m excited to see the gown again,” Frances said.

Vivi pulled my door shut. “It’s a lovely choice.”

I shucked off my clothes, wishing I had thought to bring another shirt to change into. My Micky’s Diner tee didn’t seem quite worthy to be in the same store as thousand dollar dresses.

I had managed to remember to bring my special strapless bra that was a cruel form of torture no female should have to endure. I slipped it on, then zipped myself into the dress as far as I could.

I stepped out of the dressing room and onto the stage area in front of the three-way mirrors.

“Gorgeous!” Vivi exclaimed. She had pins stuck in a tomato-like cushion banded to her wrist like a watch. She pulled the zipper the rest of the way up, then walked a full circle around me and back again. “I think the length is just right, don’t you?”

“It’s perfect,” Frances said, all traces of gloom gone.

I took a good look at myself in the mirror. The coral provided a nice contrast with my pale skin, but didn’t clash too badly with my red hair. The bra, though about as comfortable as a corset, was padded enough to make my chest look almost impressive. The empire waist accented the hourglass shape I had yet to lose on Loretta’s cooking, and the skirt fell in even, flowing pleats to the floor. I felt like a princess.

“What do you think, Katie?” Frances asked.

“I think it’s just right.” Nothing else in my life was—my relationship with Charlie, my career outlook, the fate of my Valiant. But this dress? “It’s exactly how it should be.”

Minutes later, Frances and I walked toward the register, Frances with her smile back in place, and me with the coral dress in a garment bag over my arm. We passed a wall of wedding dresses, one more beautiful than the other.

“Oh, look at this one.” Frances stopped at a lace strapless gown. “She must’ve just gotten this one in. Do you like it?”

“It’s very pretty.” But an ivory A-line next to it caught my eye. My traitorous hands had a mind of their own and reached out to touch. It was total vintage chic. Sleeveless, but not strapless. Lace covering the satin bodice, with a tucked waist and a circular skirt that flared and stopped inches above the ankle. It wasn’t a dress for a long veil; no, this one needed a pert little fascinator with netting that peeked out to cover the face. This dress wouldn’t want to go to a formal church wedding, but rather a rustic setting, like a renovated barn or farm. Or my Valiant.

“Try it on.” Frances lifted the dress from the rack. “Do it.”

“No. Don’t be silly.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun. It’ll give you something to do while I’m trying this one.” She handed me the gown. “You know you want to.”

I did want to.

One more costume change later, I again stepped in front of the mirrors, only this time looking like a bride.

The dress was a size too large, but it was still a show stopper.

“My gosh, you’re beautiful.”

I looked up at the sound of the male voice, and the mirror showed Charlie standing behind me.

I turned around, slightly horrified. Who wore wedding dresses if they weren’t a bride? Crazy people. The type who stalked men from the shrubbery and had a collection of restraining orders in their name. “I’m just killing time waiting for Frances.”

But Charlie didn’t look frightened. No, he looked. . .enchanted.

He came my way, his gaze taking in my every lacy part. He lifted my hand, then spun me in a slow turn, causing my heart to thud like a kick drum. “You should get that.”

Every girl should be looked at like this once in their lives. Adoration. Admiration. Heat. Want. And something so much more.

“I should get this for my Friday night trips to the library?”

He kept my hand held lightly in his. “You’re stunning, Katie.”

My breath caught at the reverence in his voice. The warmth in his eyes. “This old thing?”

“Go out with me.”

I blinked at the topic jump.

“Go out with me tonight. Just you and me. Forget everything that’s going on. Forget how you want my head on a stake.” Charlie drew his hand along the edge of the neckline. “I want to see you.”

“I’m. . .I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

He had me so rattled, I couldn’t even think of a good excuse.

“Well, hey, Charlie.” Frances saved me from sputtering and joined us at the mirror. “That dress did not work at all. Way too poufy.” She gave Charlie an enthusiastic hug. “What’s my future brother-in-law doing here?”

Charlie seemed reluctant to take his focus off me, but he gave Frances an easy smile. “Picking up our ties. Joey got the wrong shade of pink, so Vivi had to order them for us.”

“It’s very sweet of you to do that for him.” Frances grinned as she looked from me to Charlie, as if she had just happened upon a lovers’ tryst. “All rightie then, I’m going to go up front and settle up. See you outside. Take your time. Talk as long as you want. I’m in
no
rush.”

Frances all but frolicked away, leaving me standing before Charlie in a wedding dress that would belong to someone else. Someone who had her life figured out.

I took a small step back, my lips lifting in an embarrassed smile. “I probably smell like bacon and maple syrup.”

There was that dimple in his left cheek. “Which makes you a man’s walking fantasy.”

Well, then.

He took a step closer, and the air around us seemed to still, like the electric pause before a warm summer storm. “You were saying we should go out tonight.”

I strangely couldn’t recall anything I’d uttered since waking. “I believe that was your idea.”

He considered this as he reached for my hand again. “It was a good one.”

“So wedding dresses do it for Charlie Benson.”

“Just when Katie Parker’s in them.”

Reasons for not going anywhere with Charlie slowly began tapping on my conscience, whispering in my ear. “I should probably stay at home tonight. Get my plans finalized for Frances’s bachelorette party.” Work on my Thrifty Co. defense.

“You gotta eat. And I have it on good authority a number of your provisions got waterlogged.”

“I can go to the grocery store. Eat the stuff Millie left for me in the freezer.”

“Spinach casserole?”

“Don’t forget her famous beet loaf.”

“You hate that stuff.”

“True. But—”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I didn’t say I’d go.”

He dared a quick kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering near my ear. “There will be pie.”

“Make it seven-thirty.”

Y
ou’d have thought
it was my first date.

I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning Millie’s house until finally retreating upstairs to get away from the roar of the fans. Surely everything was dry now. And anything that wasn’t had been ripped up to be replaced. The kitchen, dining, and living room looked like a battle zone. All because of one little water heater. James and Millie wouldn’t be home for well over a week, and I couldn’t wait. I was tired of our sporadic talks via their iffy internet connection, and if I ever needed their wise counsel, it was now.

The head-banging band of butterflies in my stomach seemed to have forgotten we’d been out with Charlie many times before.

Charlie.

The man who made me weak in the knees and inspired unbidden thoughts of my own walk down the aisle, a white picket fence, and children who had his dimples and skin that turned a nice tan in the sun.

Then there was the rising business executive. Who believed in a slash and burn approach to corporate expansion, with little care or thought to the lives left in the smoking ash. But what if he left the company? Was this thought dancing dangerously close to the
but I could change him
mentality that had ruined my bio-mom many times? I knew from her experience, the men never did change. You didn’t bring them up; they could only drag
you
down. If Charlie stayed with Thrifty Co., could I stand that? If we got together, how long before my resentment became a virus, a disease that took over, infecting every part of our lives?