Page 81 of Tell Me Again
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I can’t believe you have these clothes.”
Sam let out a small laugh. “Me neither, now that you mention it.”
She and Grace stood in the middle of the third-floor bedroom she’d converted into an overflow closet. It was small for a bedroom but big enough for the many racks and shelves required to house the glamorous gowns and one-of-a-kind pieces she’d worn during her days in front of the camera.
Most of what she’d modeled had been borrowed for photo shoots or part of a runway show, but she’d been a muse for several designers and been gifted more expensive dresses than she could wear in a lifetime. It had been a relief to walk away from her life but surprisingly difficult to part with the clothes.
“Do you wear any of it?” Grace asked, shimmying into a knee-length cocktail gown. “The beading on this one is awesome.”
“I don’t,” Sam admitted, trailing her fingers over the stitching on one of the lace gowns. She pulled it off the hanger and moved to the full-length mirror. She held up the dress, remembering the black-tie event she’d worn it to years ago. Or sort of remembering. Like most evenings on the town, that one was a blurry haze of too much alcohol. “Not a lot of use for fancy dresses at the camp.”
“Why do you keep them?”
Sam pressed her lips together, thought about how honestly to answer that question. “They represent something to me. You know Bryce and I grew up poor?”
Grace nodded.
“New clothes were one of the things we never had enough of, especially with how quickly we grew once we hit puberty. We were the same size so we could share, but even rotating outfits couldn’t hide how often we wore the same thing.”
“What about when you go on dates?”
“I don’t date.”
“Really? Why not?” Grace came to stand next to Sam in front of the mirror. The feeling that Bryce was with them on some level overwhelmed her.
“My focus is the camp and my classes. That doesn’t leave time for dating.”
“You have time for my dad,” the girl said softly.
Sam schooled her features. “Your dad and I were friends a long time ago. You know how much he loves you. I promise I won’t come between you.”
“I know.” Grace smoothed her hands over the front of the dress. It was a little loose around the hips and bodice, but Sam could see that Grace had the poise and inherent allure to become a huge success in front of the camera. Her stomach quivered with panic, and she reminded herself that Grace wasn’t the same insecure, desperate girl Sam had been as a teen. She didn’t need an escape or the approval of others. “I think he likes you.”
Sam bit down on her lip. She hated to admit how much those words meant. Suddenly she was an awkward schoolgirl again, trading secrets with a friend. Only Grace meant more than that and she had to remain the priority. “I’m not dating your dad, or anyone else for that matter. We’re focused on you and this very important spring dance.”
“My friends are going to die when they see me in a designer dress,” Grace said with a grin. “There are so many to choose from. How will I decide?”
“We’ve got all afternoon.” Sam draped the gown she held over one arm and straightened the straps on Grace’s dress. She lifted the girl’s heavy blond hair off her shoulders, twisting it into a makeshift bun. “We can play with different hairstyles to see what looks best with each dress.”
“Only if I can do your hair. You have to try on some of the dresses, too,” Grace said with a grin. “Can we put on makeup and have a mini fashion show?” She jumped up and down. “Please?”
Sam had spent the past five years distancing herself from who she’d been during her early twenties, including the way she dressed. She couldn’t part with the clothes because they represented the escape she and her sister had wanted so desperately. But they were only a collection to her now, and she’d never planned to revisit them. Then again, nothing about these past few weeks and Grace had been part of her plan.
Through the girl’s eyes she could see the clothes for what they were. Beautiful objects without emotional weight tied to them. It might be fun to play make-believe and create new memories that would take away the power of the old ones.
“Let’s do it,” she said, and Grace squealed with delight.
Trevor knocked on Sam’s back door for a third time and then let himself in when there was no answer. Frank was the only one to greet him. Bark. Lick. Crotch nudge.
Grace’s hoodie hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and he could hear muffled voices from somewhere in the house. He followed the sound up two fights of stairs to the old Victorian’s remodeled attic.
At the top of the stairs he stopped. He couldn’t see Sam or Grace but he could hear their laughter from a room at the far side of the space. In front of him was a sitting area with an overstuffed couch and two comfy-looking chairs. He assumed that was the furniture arrangement based on the size of the pieces. It was hard to tell for sure since every surface was covered with discarded clothes of all colors and materials.
They looked expensive, with beads and lace and the occasional feather embellishing them. Heels of varying heights were scattered across the floor. He didn’t dare move forward for fear of tripping over something. He’d never felt so out of his element.
Until his daughter sashayed through the open door.
