Meant To Be (37 page)

Emily cursed the heat starting to flow into her cheeks. What came to mind was to say, ‘Well, it's my gallery, and my business.
What right do you have to discuss deadlines with my artist, even if she is your sister?' But the words in her head sounded like the complaints of a petulant teenager, so she kept them to herself.

‘We're a team, Jake. I love that you have all these great contacts and experience, but I'd just prefer you talked to me before getting designs drawn up and bullying Simone into a deadline, that's all,' she said.

‘I didn't
bully
Simone. She offered,' he said.

‘But why were you discussing it in the first place?'

‘To try and get some idea of a date for the opening.' His words started off defensively, but petered out when he seemed to see Emily's point. ‘Which really wasn't my place, was it?' he added sheepishly. ‘I'm sorry, Em, I just want to help. It's not that I don't think you can do all this – I know you can – but I just think it's wise to use all the resources available. And I happen to be a very good resource. And now you're pregnant…'

‘Don't worry about it. I appreciate your help, I really do. But I want to be involved too. When it's a success, I want to be able to say, “Look what I did,” not “Look what Jake did for me.” And if it all goes pear-shaped…'

‘It won't. It's going to be a huge success;
you're
going to be a huge success. I'll back off,' he said, raising his hands, ‘and wait for you to come to me.'

‘I don't want all or nothing, Jake,' she said, thinking momentarily of Enid. ‘I want us to be a team, to be sitting together writing lists and making decisions. Like we did before you went off tractor driving,' she added, suddenly realising that was when things had changed.

‘Fair enough. I suppose I did go a bit rogue on you. It's just that the only time I could contact people was during office hours and I was so knackered at night.'

‘I can always make calls and send emails,' Emily said.

‘I know. Sorry. I'll do better from now on,' he said, offering her an innocent, puppy-dog look.

‘You're forgiven. I'm probably just being needy and insecure.' Emily kissed him and then finished dishing up their roast chicken and vegetables.

Over dinner they discussed their trip up to Whyalla the following day and consulted the list Emily had prepared. It wasn't long, but everything on it was time-consuming. In addition to going to the party hire place and Karen's light shop, she wanted to get prices for business cards and stationery for when the design was finalised. Jake said he could get all that done in Melbourne, and probably cheaper, but Emily wanted to do as much locally as she could.

But the main thing bothering her was what to wear for the opening. She'd never really been much into fashion – preferring to be comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, or an ironed shirt if she needed to be a little more dressed up. She felt daunted by the prospect of doing it alone, and with Barbara and Jake both unavailable – he'd be in a meeting for most of the afternoon to celebrate the conclusion of the project – she was jittery about the experience.

She knew of women who would dedicate months and multiple big city shopping trips to the quest for the perfect outfit. Emily needed it dealt with in two hours – and in Whyalla.

Emily's eyes bugged when they walked into the huge warehouse filled with glassware, crockery, cutlery, balloons, streamers, and serviettes. On the wall, on an angled shelf, was a display of place settings in every colour imaginable. The choice was mind-boggling. As much as she wanted her opening to be classy, she was not remotely interested in ironing hundreds of linen napkins. If paper serviettes were good enough for the Governor's visit the year before, they were good enough for her.

‘We don't need plates either,' Jake said as they stood chatting out of earshot of the two staff members behind the counter. ‘Let's just go with small paper serviettes. That's what they do at all the business functions I go to in Melbourne.'

‘I really don't want plastic glasses,' Emily said. ‘I know that means someone will have to wash them all, but I hate the idea of them ending up in landfill.'

‘Fair enough. It's a big dishwasher, so quite a few will fit in at a time. And they'll only need a quick cycle. Anyway, won't they wash them for you? In Melbourne the hire places deliver them clean and pick them up dirty.'

‘We can ask. But I'm sure they'll be arriving on the bus or we'll be collecting them. And, at the risk of sounding like my mother, I'd rather wash them myself and know they're clean for my guests.'

‘Okay, so that's settled. Proper glasses it is,' Jake said.

‘Crikey, have you seen the prices?' Emily said, looking at the price list on the counter.

‘Don't you go getting all freaked out on me now, Em, it'll be fine. As I'm sure your gran would say, “If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well.” You want to arrive with a bang, give people something to talk about.'

They still had to get prices for the catering. Oh, well, Emily kept telling herself. It was business, not just a lavish party for themselves.

They took a heap of photos with Jake's mobile phone, and decided they'd need more precise numbers before going any further. They didn't know how many would turn up from the ad they were putting in the paper. The staff assured them they didn't have any functions around their date so there should be no problem with availability.

‘Wow, I had no idea how much stuff there was to choose from, and how expensive it is,' Emily said as they returned to the car.

‘At least we don't need chairs or chair covers,' Jake said.

‘Yes, lucky that.'

‘Thank God we're not having a big white wedding!' they both said at once and then laughed.

They got into the car and headed the rest of the way into the city centre.

Emily's head was still spinning with confusion, indecision, and numbers when Jake parked the car in the Civic Centre car park and then kissed her goodbye before making his way across to the main building.

Right, we're going to find something to wear,
Emily told herself forcefully, picturing the blue-grey wraparound silky shirt-like top from her recurring dream. She knew being set on something so particular was dangerous, but hoped that having the same dream so many times was a good sign.

She paused out the front of the first of the two boutiques on the now familiar shopping strip. The display was a sea of colour and seemed quite casual. She hoped they had a more formal section inside.

Fingers crossed
, she thought, taking a deep breath and pushing open the door.

‘Hello,' the young lass behind the counter called brightly.

‘Hi,' Emily called back. She was friendly, but couldn't quite muster the same level of enthusiasm.

‘Is there something I can help you with?'

‘I hope so. I'm looking for quite a specific outfit for a semi-formal evening function.' She went on to describe it.

‘Oh. That
is
specific. I can't remember seeing anything quite like that. And the colours we have right now are still a little summery – lighter. When is it for?'

‘Winter. End of June.'

‘You might be better off waiting a couple of weeks until the winter stock is fully in. But let's have a look. Our more formal wear is over here,' she said, leading Emily to the other side of the store.

She flicked through the first rack, shaking her head. ‘No, nothing of that colour. Here's a wraparound dress in green,' she said hopefully, holding it up.

‘Thanks, but not really me,' Emily said. It was nice, but she had her heart set on the outfit of her dreams – literally. They went through two whole racks. Despite telling herself to open her mind to other possibilities, Emily didn't see anything worth getting undressed for.

If Barbara was there she would have been more likely to try on and see. But her heart wasn't really in it. The girl was still smiling and showing as much patience as when she had walked in, goodness only knew how long ago, but it wasn't to be.

‘I'm really sorry,' she finally said, ‘but that's all I have. There's another boutique down the street. Perhaps try there.'

Emily admired her tolerance. In her place she probably would have thrown up her hands by now.
God, who would work in retail and have to deal with the public day in day out?

Er, you, Emily
, her inner voice said. She almost laughed out loud.
Christ, what am I getting myself into?

At least with a gallery it was more a case of what you see is what you get. She couldn't imagine a gallery client saying, ‘Oh I like that, but do you have one with more blue in it, or a bit more red here or there?'

‘Thanks so much for your help, anyway. You've been great,' Emily said, but was somehow hesitant to leave. She so desperately wanted to get her outfit sorted with minimal palaver.

‘I'm just so sorry I couldn't help,' the girl said. ‘I hope you find something. But, if all else fails, you can't go wrong with a little black dress. This one would really suit you,' she said, plucking one out of the rack and looking expectantly at her.

Emily looked at it and ummed and aahed.
It is nice
, she thought,
and the shape might look okay on me.
It was in a stretchy fabric, so it wouldn't matter if she changed a bit in the next two months. The three-quarter-length sleeves would hide her not-so-lean arms. She should probably put the blue-grey out of her mind – nothing like that colour seemed to be in at the moment.

‘Good idea,' she said. ‘I'll try it on.' She offered the girl a grateful smile and headed into the change room just behind her.

The patient lass was not so patient when waiting for someone to get out of one outfit and into another. Twice she enquired if
everything was okay in there and twice Emily called back breathlessly that it was.
Damn dressing to be warm
, she thought, as she struggled with her three layers. She hadn't considered how long dressing and undressing would take.

Finally she dragged the stretchy black dress over her head and pulled it down and into place. She looked in the mirror and thought it fitted her curvy shape rather well. But she still couldn't get enthusiastic. Every second woman would be in a little black dress. She was the host, for goodness sake. She'd wanted to look much more striking than ordinary.

Oh well, better than nothing
, Emily thought as she stepped out of the change room and did a twirl in front of the girl. It would work as a fallback if she didn't find anything else. At least being disappointed was better than being stressed over having nothing to wear.

‘Oh, it's perfect on you. I knew it,' the girl cried. ‘Do you want to try on any others now you're undressed?' she called, as Emily wrestled the clingy garment back over her head.

‘Um, thanks, but I don't think so,' she called back when she had finally extricated herself. She emerged re-dressed in her jeans and multiple layers, and boots, and put the dress on the counter.

‘Would you be able to hold this for an hour or so? I really want to check the other shop before deciding.'

‘We do have a full refund policy, even if you simply change your mind. You could take it now and then return it if you find something you like better. It's entirely up to you though.'

‘Oh, that's very good of you. That would be great. Thanks so much.'

Emily left the shop with her purchase. She was tired, but relieved she had found something she liked. Her legs were heavy as she moved down the street to the second boutique. She paused in front of the window display, which suggested the shop was
targeting an older clientele. And, again, none of the colours looked anything like what she was looking for. But she was there now, so she pushed the heavy glass door open and walked in.

‘Good morning,' called a short, rotund, slightly past middle-age woman with perfectly coiffed grey-rinsed hair.

‘Hello,' Emily replied as the door closed behind her with a thud. The atmosphere in here was totally different to the previous shop – not nearly as warm and friendly. Emily almost turned and walked out, but not wanting to appear rude, started on a circuit of the store. Again the colour she wanted was nowhere in sight.

‘Is there a special occasion you're shopping for?' the lady asked.

‘Yes, a cocktail party for a new gallery that's opening.'

‘Now where's that then?'

‘Sorry? Oh, down near Wattle Creek,' Emily said, taken by surprise at the woman's inquisitiveness.

‘Oh, I haven't caught up with that yet. I do hope I get an invitation, I know a few people down that way.'

Emily remembered the conversations she'd had with Jake about spreading the word as far and as wide as possible.

‘The opening is the twenty-fifth of June,' she said. ‘It's called The Button Jar. I'll send you an invite if you like.'

‘That would be wonderful. My name's Mavis,' the woman said, holding out her hand, which Emily accepted. ‘Thank you. I'll look forward to it. Now, let's find you a wonderful outfit. You have a gorgeous figure,' she said, eyeing Emily up and down.

Being looked at like that – the way Enid did all the time – made Emily bristle. But she swallowed it down, reminding herself that Mavis was only trying to help her find an outfit that would look good on her.

‘Would you, by any chance, have anything in blue-grey?' she asked.

‘This is probably the closest thing I have,' Mavis said, selecting and then holding up a lace dress in almost the exact colour of the top in Emily's dream. Her heart surged for a moment. At least the colour existed. But the dress wasn't right.

‘The colour works well on you, but the dress is really a bit too mother-of-the-bride, I'm afraid. Unfortunately I don't have anything else in that colour. How about this burgundy one?' Mavis offered, putting the dress back and holding up another.