I look down at my black cotton pants and grey t-shirt. "They're comfortable."
"And totally appropriate for lounging around the house. But, we're having dinner tonight and I want you to dress up. Consider it an early Christmas gift."
The saleswoman leads us to a rack of short cocktail dresses. "These just came in from Europe. It's a new silk/ washable blend."
Mrs. Reynolds slides the silky, teal-colored dress between her fingers. "Too stiff. She's used to cotton, so I'd like a softer fabric."
"I don't wear short dresses," I tell them.
The lady leads us to another corner of the store. "How about a cotton/wool blend?"
Mrs. Reynolds shakes her head. "Too hot."
"Rayon?" loo clingy.
I'd expect the lady to get frustrated, but she just puts her hand to her chin in thought. "I may have something that you'd like in the back. Wait here." She goes to the back of the store and comes out a minute later with a yellow dress hanging off her arm. Holding it out to Mrs. Reynolds, she says, "Its from Sweden. A new supplier sent it to us for evaluation."
Mrs. Reynolds eyes the dress, then rubs the edge of the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "Love the fabric, but the color is atrocious. She'd look like a sour lemon in this."
"It came in a light plum color, too. I'll go get it."
"It's a beautiful shade," I say when she brings out the plum-colored dress. I try it on in the dressing room. It has spaghetti straps and a scooped neckline. The middle is cinched at the waist before waves of the material flow down and stop just above my ankle. When I walk in front of the mirror you can hardly tell I have a limp.
The sales woman smiles when I model it for them. "I think we have a winner here."
Mrs. Reynolds smacks her lips together. "It's perfect. We'll take it."
"You have a very generous grandmother," the saleswoman says to me.
I look over at Mrs. Reynolds, who is across the store looking at another dress. "I know. I couldn't have picked a better one myself."
When I go back to the dressing room to take the dress off, Mrs. Reynolds stops me. "Keep it on, Margaret. We'll be going to dinner from here and you won't have time to change."
"Which dress are you trying on?"
"Old ladies don't need new dresses. Now stop the chatter and let's move on."
I put my hands on my cinched, plum-covered hips. "I'm not leaving this store until you buy a new dress, too."
Mrs. Reynolds' mouth opens in shock.
"Don't look so startled, Grandma," I say, copying her famous saying to me. "It doesn't suit your face."
Her mouth snaps shut. Then she throws her head back and howls with unabashed laughter.
A half hour later we're back in the Cadillac. I might also add that Mrs. Reynolds is wearing a new silk and rayon, powder-blue dress with a matching jacket.
"I want you to deduct money out of my paycheck for the dress. I insist," I say.
Mrs. Reynolds just smiles without responding.
"I'm serious, Mrs. Reynolds."
"I know you are, dear, and I appreciate it. But I'm still buying it with my own funds."
I shake my head in frustration. "Where to now?" A pie run. "Huh?"
"Just head for Auntie Mae's Diner and you'll see."
I steer the car around and drive to the diner.
Mrs. Reynolds ducks down. "Go to the back, where the dumpster is," she whispers. "And don't let anyone see you."
The woman is serious. I slide down in the seat and creep the car toward the back of the restaurant as if we're here to rob the place. I stop near the dumpsters. "What are we doing here?" I whisper, then wonder why I'm whispering. Her son owns the restaurant.
"Keep the car running, just get out and knock on the back door three times. Then you pause for two seconds and then knock another three times." Mrs. Reynolds sinks lower into her seat. "When someone answers, say, The red hen has flown the coop."
"I don't get it."
"You will if you follow my directions. Now go!"
This is comical. I almost pee in my dress as I creep up to the back door and knock. Knock, knock, knock. Pause. Knock, knock, knock.
Juan, one of the bus boys, opens the door a crack.
I burst out laughing as I say, "The red bird has flown the coop."
"Don't you mean hen? "
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I mean The red hen has flown the coop."
I think Juan is laughing as he says, "Wait here," and closes the door. When the door opens, Irina hands me two boxes.
"What's inside?" I say.
"Don't ask me, Moggie. A surprise for you and Mrs. Reynolds."
When she closes the door, I bring the boxes to the car and slide into the driver's seat. "We got the goods."
"Great, now head back to my house."
Mrs. Reynolds is smirking as I drive up to her house. When I pull up to the garage, I finally figure out what this is all about.
The gazebo is finished, and Caleb has hung white lights all around it. White candles are lit inside, making the whole gazebo light up. Caleb is standing beside it, wearing khaki pants and a white dress shirt and tie.
When he winks at me and flashes his smile, I feel another piece of armor chipping away.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Caleb
I hurry to the car and open the door for Mrs. Reynolds. I hold out my hand and help her out of the car. "You look hot," I tell her.