Revenge of the Wrought-Iron Flamingos(27)

„Yes, but this whole weekend is already such a lot of work for you.“

She shrugged.

„No problem,“ she said. „Lot of work; lot of money for the ladies. Lot of work for her, too,“ she added, jerking her head at Mrs. Waterston, who was over by the bar, apparently giving the bartender the third degree about something.

„Yes, isn't it lovely how it's kept her out of your hair for so long,“ I said.

Mrs. Tranh rolled her eyes.

„Don't worry,“ I said. „I'm sure she'll find another project before too long.“

„She better,“ Mrs. Tranh muttered. „You and Michael gonna get married, maybe? Let her plan the wedding?“

Michael chuckled. Had he put her up to this, the rat? Or had she come up with the idea on her own? Either way, I wished she'd drop the subject.

„I should change,“ I said.

„Make it a big wedding, biggest one we ever had in town,“ Mrs. Tranh said. „Keep her busy for a whole year, planning a wedding like that.“

„I'll keep it in mind,“ I said, retreating toward the dressing room.

„And grandchildren!“ Mrs. Tranh called after me. „Plenty of grandchildren! Keep her real busy!“

I ducked into the dressing room. Outside, I could hear Michael laughing and talking with Mrs. Tranh in a mishmash of French and Vietnamese. I pressed a hand to my cheek, which felt hot. Was it the weather, or my embarrassment? Dammit, I thought, I wish everyone would stop trying to push us toward the altar. Maybe my problem wasn't fear of commitment; maybe it was just plain, old-fashioned stubbornness. Maybe if everyone started trying to pry Michael and me apart….

Later, I told myself, and I shed my workday gown and turned to see what Mrs. Tranh and her ladies had made.

They'd designed it to go with Michael's white-and-gold uniform that was clear. Off-white dupioni silk shot with gold threads, and trimmed with lots of lace, most white but some gold.

The improvised dressing room contained a full-length mirror. I held the dress up in front of me and sighed. I couldn't just let Mrs. Tranh do this for me for nothing. Even though Michael had probably already paid her, I had to do something to thank her.

First, of course, I had to get into the dress. And for that I was going to need help; it hooked up the back. And was it my imagination…no, I spread the material at the waist to see how it fit. Definitely too small. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't anorexic either; I could see no chance of squeezing into that dress.

I heard the curtain rustle. Mrs. Tranh, I assumed, or one of her ladies, come to help me into the dress. I'd have to break the news that they'd miscalculated, I thought as I turned.

And found myself looking up at Michael.





„Mother would have a fit if she saw the glaring anachronisms you're wearing instead of plain, sensible, colonial undergarments,“ he said, putting his arms around my waist. „Although I rather like them.“

„Not surprising,“ I said, reaching up to put my arms around his neck. „You picked them out. Do you own stock in Victoria's Secret or something?“

„No, but maybe I should buy some,“ he said, reaching down to kiss my neck.

„You should,“ I said. „Might as well get something out of all the money you spend there.“

„Oh, I do,“ he said, with the sort of soft laugh that distracted me completely from the business of getting into the costume.

I was about to suggest that we skip the party and adjourn to our tent when I heard Mrs. Waterston's voice outside, berating someone. .

„Damn,“ Michael said. I had reason to believe his thoughts had been running along the same lines as mine, but his mother's voice brought both of us back to Earth. „We don't dare leave her alone for long; she's so keyed up there's no telling who she'll upset. I'd better behave, and lace you into your costume.“

„Hook me up, actually, but I don't think it's going to work,“ I said. „This thing is definitely too small.“

„Not when you put the corset on,“ Michael said.

„Corset?“ I said. „You've got to be kidding!“

But no, when I looked back at the hook on which the dress had been hanging, there was, indeed, a white-and-gold corset. The real thing, with boning and laces up the back.

„You're right,“ I said. „Although they'd have called it 'stays' in this time period.“

„I stand corrected.“

„Look at all the work she put into this,“ I said, „All that lace and decorative stitching that no one will ever see.“

„I think it was intended for a small but select audience,“ Michael said. „She told me you'd need help getting into it.“

„Badly thought out,“ I said. „It should be designed so I need help getting out of it.“