She probably wouldn’t be alive if some Good Samaritan hadn’t broken the car window to get her out before calling the cops. I’d seen the story on the news and had been horrified. It was hard to believe we were getting that baby. The Baumgartners would be her savior. She would grow up with them, a part of their family, and they would love her and take care of her and give her more than most children in the world ever received from their parents.
“Hey, Gretchen, let’s go to Gymboree.” Mrs. B had abandoned her dresses-four of them in all. She was terrible at making up her mind.
“Again?” I smiled, putting the dress in my hand back on the rack.
“Come on.” Mrs. B seemed to be in a really big hurry all of a sudden, abandoning her pursuit of the perfect dress and grabbing my elbow, steering me toward the front of the store.
“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “Let’s go buy some more pink stuff.”
We’d almost gotten to the front of the store when I saw the reason for her haste. Ronnie was standing at one of the racks, looking through bathing suits. And Vince was standing beside her, looking all buff in a black tank top and jeans. The man’s arms were huge. He dwarfed Ronnie, who laughed when he bent to whisper something in her ear.
I stopped, shaking Mrs. B’s arm off my elbow, watching them talk and flirt and giggle. Ronnie was smiling. Beaming, really. She looked incredibly happy. I knew I should be happy for her, but something thick and bitter crept into my throat, constricting it. I knew it was jealousy, and I had no right to be jealous. We were over. It was over.
“Come on, Gretchen,” Mrs. B murmured, taking my elbow again, gently this time. “Let’s go.”
I knew she wanted to get me out of there before Ronnie saw me. Maybe she thought I was going to make a scene, but that wasn’t my thing. I was more than happy to slip out unnoticed. After all, that’s what I’d done when I discovered Ronnie having sex with Vince in our bed. If I could do it then, I could certainly do it now. I started to leave, following Mrs. B.
That’s when Ronnie looked up and saw me. And I froze.
It was a moment, just a brief, fleeting thing. Our eyes locked. She recognized me, her gaze moving to Mrs. B by my side and then back again. Her smile faded and the suit she was holding dropped to the floor. Then Vince noticed her noticing me. I had a moment of insanity, when I wanted to run over and do something. I didn’t know what. Shake her. Kiss her. Something.
But I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked toward the exit, Mrs. B following me now.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. B asked as we left Macy’s and headed toward Gymboree at the other end of the mall.
“Fine,” I lied, walking faster. My stomach was in knots. Of course, she knew I was lying.
“Hey, let’s go get some lunch.” Mrs. B caught up, grabbing my hand in hers, squeezing. “How about P.F. Changs? Let’s go eat the Great Wall of Chocolate.”
“Whatever you want to do.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
The kids were at camp this week and Mrs. B had decided to take the week off too so we could have a “real vacation” she said. Doc was still working, of course, but we’d gone to dinner last night, the three of us, which was a lot of fun. And today Mrs. B said she wanted to have a girls’ day out. She wanted us to buy some sexy dresses to go to a new nightclub tonight that had just opened.
“Don’t let her ruin things,” Mrs. B pleaded. “You’re going to move on. You’ll find someone else. I promise you.”
I nodded, trying on a smile. I knew she was right. Probably right. I mean, I’d get over Ronnie. We weren’t even really, officially, anything at all. So why was I holding on to what we’d had? I knew I needed to let go. Maybe Mrs. B was right. Maybe I just needed to move on. Find someone else. Maybe several someones.
“Okay, let’s go shopping.” I squeezed her hand, seeing her smile reach her eyes at my sudden enthusiasm. “I need to find the sexiest dress on the planet for tonight.”
“That’s the spirit.” Mrs. B laughed and we headed into the mall.
It had been a long time since I’d been to a night club or even a party. Ronnie and I had been homebodies. She spent so much time with school and studying, and me working at the Baumgartners and supplementing that income with selling the photos I took on stock photo sites, that most of the time we just crashed and watched Netflix DVDs together. Sometimes we went out to see an actual movie, but we rarely hung out with other people and never went to parties.
So I was nervous. I used to go to parties and nightclubs. I used to pick up guys. And girls. But I didn’t know if I was that person anymore. So I tried my best to find her, to bring her out with a short, black sequined dress; a cut, color and highlights at the salon that afternoon with Mrs. B; and the application of make-up, which I hardly ever wore anymore.
“My God, Gretchen, you have the most beautiful skin.” Mrs. B swabbed my cheeks with a fat bristled brush.
“Thanks. I’m so pale though.” I met her eyes, beautiful and bright, rimmed with mascara and eyeliner. Her dress was just as low-cut as my own, her tanned cleavage pushed up in the wonder of a Miracle Bra, not that she needed one. But it certainly made her breasts stand out, tantalizing mountains of flesh. A silver pendant necklace hung between them, drawing even more attention there, hanging loosely as she leaned forward to put the finishing touches on my makeup.
“You’re like peaches and cream.” Mrs. B ran a finger under my eye, cleaning up a smudge, her gaze moving lower to my own not inconsiderable, although far more pale, cleavage. “Delicious.”
I met her eyes for a moment, feeling a hot, tight clench in my belly, my gaze dropping down to the floor. Not that there wasn’t anything to look at there. Her heels were four inches high, her legs long, so tanned she didn’t have need of pantyhose. The hem of her red dress barely came to mid-thigh. We’d gone a little wild with the dress buying, I thought. They were probably a little too short, too low-cut. But I had to admit, the dress had the desired effect. I felt incredibly sexy in it.
“I should get a tan,” I mused, unable to help looking at her long, tawny legs. “Do you go to a salon?”
I knew she must, because she didn’t have any tan lines-although I wasn’t supposed to know that, and didn’t say so.
“During the winter I do.” Mrs. B smiled, standing back to admire her handiwork. “But in the summer, I try to spend as much time as I can in the backyard. You should come lay out with me this week. Get some color.”
“I will.” I nodded in agreement.
“And you’ll have a chance to soak up the sun when we go to Key West over Christmas.”
I smiled at that. I used to go with the Holmes’ on vacation all the time. Key West was one of their regular vacation spots. That’s where we’d run into the Baumgartners in the first place.
“There’s something about the Florida sun that turns your skin such a gorgeous golden brown.” Mrs. B tilted my chin up, looking at my makeup, admiring her handiwork. “I remember when we took Ronnie. She got as brown as a little seal.”
She realized her error, stopping and looking at me.
“I’m sorry, Gretch…”
“It’s okay. I was there, remember?” I reminded her. “She’s a brunette, though. I don’t tan quite as easily. I’m just so fair.”
“It’s that white-blonde hair.” She smiled, running her fingers through my hair, sending goose flesh down my arms. “I’m blonde, but you’re- really blonde.”
She ran a finger over my bare shoulder. The dress was sleeveless.
“Are you blonde all over?” she wondered aloud, her gaze following the path of her finger slowly down my arm.
“Yes, but…” I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to share.
“But?” She smirked, meeting my eyes.