Page 45 of The Night the Lights Went Out
Merilee fervently wished they’d had this conversation when she was still stone-cold sober. Or even way before that, before the divorce, when she still had a modicum of self-confidence and wasn’t so desperate to be valued again. The old Merilee might even have been annoyed to be considered anybody’s “project.” Because she now found herself on the verge of saying yes. She grasped frantically for her last thread of self-respect. “No, I couldn’t possibly—”
Heather tucked in her chin. “I know. I understand. You’re a strong woman and it’s hard for you to accept help.”
Merilee sat back, relieved that Heatherdidunderstand. It had been too long since anybody had even tried.
Heather continued. “But maybe...” She tapped her finger on her chin, thinking, and eventually a slow smile spread over her face. “But maybe you’d feel better about it if I let you do something for me, too.”
Merilee found herself nodding eagerly while trying to figure out what she could do for Heather. “Of course. Anything.”
“Well, as luck would have it, my wedding anniversary is on the night of the gala. And since you work at the most fabulous jeweler in Atlanta, maybe you could help Daniel choose something wonderful for me. He and I don’t have the same... taste in jewelry. He thinks a small knickknack is sufficient to show his love, but I disagree.” She threw her head back and laughed, revealing a diamond pendant necklace that had to be at least four carats. “I know you will be able to better direct him to something more my taste. Something big and shiny.”
“I’m not really a salesperson—”
“Oh, honey, I know that. You’re the marketing genius behind their advertising. But you’re there every day and know what they’ve got. And Daniel will trust your judgment. I promise you it will be a big-ticket item and earn you a lot of respect from your employers.” She smiled broadly, her teeth white and perfect. “See? It would be a win-win. I scratch your back, and you scratch mine. And everybody’s happy!”
Heather tilted her slim neck back and downed the rest of her mimosa, the diamond winking against her tanned skin, and Merilee followed suit, making a promise in her fuzzy brain that she would choose the cheapest dress she could find even if it looked like a burlap sack.
Twenty minutes later, Merilee was ushered into the private dressing room of Fruition, a store she wouldn’t have known existed if she hadn’t been with Heather. There were no signs outside the nondescript midcentury brick one-story building, just a single doorbell that Heather had pushed with an elegantly manicured finger. It was opened immediately by a very tall, very thin, very blond woman who ushered them in with a secret smile.
Merilee found herself in what could have been a chic apartment’s living room, with low, white leather couches, glass-and-steel tables, and a dais in the middle of the room, three sides of it bordered by gilt-edged mirrors. “Merilee, this is Yvette—a woman of exquisite taste and knowledge of fashion who also happens to be brutally honest. She will be in charge of finding you the perfect gown.”
“Nice to meet you, Yvette.” Merilee glanced around, wondering where the dresses were so she could shop by looking at price tags first. “If you’ll just lead me to the racks so I can browse, I’m happy to let Heather go first.”
“Oh, I’ve already got my gown,” Heather said with a dismissive wave before opening her purse to pull out a tube of lipstick. “This visit is all about you. When we’ve decided, then we’ll head to La Perla and Louboutin to accessorize. I promise to buy things for me, too, because I also have to look the part.”
“Really, Heather, just the gown is fine...”
“Oh, no!” Heather cried out, reaching into her purse and pulling out a man’s wallet. “I forgot to give this back to Daniel. We were at the club last night at a pool party and he had his wallet in his bathing suit pocket. The girls begged him to go swimming with them, so I stuck it in my purse.” She grimaced. “I should call him, but my phone battery is completely dead.” Heather gave Merilee a wink. “I might even use his Amex so he doesn’t see the charges on mine. Not that he minds, but he’s always making comments when the bill comes in. I don’t even think he checks his own!”
“Here—use my phone,” Merilee said, pulling hers from her purse. “I just programmed the code so I’d remember it—it’s one-one-one-one.”
“Thanks.” Heather closed her eyes in relief as she held Merilee’s phone. “You really should have a more secure code, you know.”
“I know, but I can’t remember any of them, so I just decided to use the same code for everything. Maybe when my brain cells recover from this year, I’ll go back and reset everything. But this works for now.”
Heather nodded sympathetically as she reached over and patted Merilee’s hand. “I understand.”
“Are you ready?” Yvette asked. “Heather already prepped me prior to your arrival this morning, and I have several selections waiting for you in our dressing area. Let’s go see if any are to your liking, and we’ll try on whichever ones strike your fancy.”
Merilee tried to think clearly enough to come up with a protest that didn’t sound ungrateful. “Okay, so if I don’t like anything, is there a room with other dresses where I can browse?”
Heather laughed. “No, Merilee. This is one-of-a-kind couture. Let Yvette do her job, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.” She reached over and gave Merilee a reassuring squeeze on the arm as a man in a tuxedo appeared with a bucket of champagne and two glasses. He immediately filled the two glasses, then handed one to Heather and one to Merilee.
“Here’s to the perfect evening,” Heather said, raising her glass to clink with Merilee’s.
Merilee took a sip, needing more sustenance and fortitude for what was becoming a surreal adventure, then turned to follow Yvette. “Hang on,” she said, turning back and handing Heather her purse. “Can you hold this for me? Just stick my phone in it when you’re done.”
“Of course.” Heather smiled. “You go have fun now—and let me see your favorites.”
By the time the car was headed back toward Sweet Apple, the trunk was stuffed with packages and Merilee’s head was swimming with champagne. She was now the proud owner of a midnight blue silk-and-chiffon concoction that felt like a cloud and showed off more skin than anything she owned—except her bathing suit.
It was being altered to fit her as if it had been made for her (Yvette’s words), and Merilee had no idea how much it cost and was afraid to even guess. None of the dresses Yvette had selected had either price tags or sizes written anywhere on the gowns or on their padded hangers, which alone probably cost more than everything together in Merilee’s closet. Merilee had used her own money for the matching shoes, spending more than she’d originally planned to spend on the dress. But, as Heather had pointed out, she couldn’t wear Jack Rogers sandals with a couture gown.
Merilee turned to Heather. “Thank you—for all of this. It was really fun, and I truly can’t express how much I appreciate this.”
“I just wish you’d let me take you to Spa Sydell. Nothing like a facial and massage after a hard day of shopping.”
Despite the effects of the champagne, that had been Merilee’s only successful compromise with Heather. “And I do appreciate the offer, but I need to get back. Michael’s bringing home the children at six.”
