“He said he’d be back.” Rowdy jumped up, excited.
“Guess that means we’re going to dinner?” Dot asked, but her normal bored expression was missing. “What do we wear?”
Good question. What did you wear to meet the family of the man who had fathered your only child? And what sort of reception should she expect? If the roles were reversed... No, don’t go there. She chewed the inside of her lip. Secretly, she’d been hoping Toben’s trip would prevent this dinner from happening. She knew Rowdy was excited but she was terrified. These people weren’t her family. Chances were, they weren’t going to welcome her with open arms. They’d side with Toben—that was what family did. To them, she was the woman who’d hidden Rowdy from his father. Not the woman who’d done her best to raise her boy on her own—the woman who’d thought Toben wanted nothing to do with them.
“Be yourself, Dot. Always be yourself,” Poppy said.
“You should wear a dress, Ma,” Rowdy said.
“A dress?” Otis made a face. “Do you own a dress, Aunt Poppy?”
“She can’t wear a dress. She just said to be yourself. Aunt Poppy wears jeans. Every day. She can’t wear a dress.” Dot smiled at her. “Right?”
“Ma?” Rowdy made his face—the face Poppy never said no to. He rarely used it, so when he did, it was a powerful tool.
“I’m not sure I’ve unpacked them,” she lied, knowing the four dresses she owned were hanging in the back of her closet, behind her coats and coveralls.
The kids tore off down the hall to her room while she slumped in her chair. Could she get out of it? Was there some way she could send Rowdy alone? But he was just as nervous as she was, even if his nerves were based on excitement.
“Found one, Ma!” Rowdy called out.
She pushed out of her chair and walked, slowly, down the hall.
Dot was holding a light blue sundress. A pale pink floral knit dress, a Southwest-patterned shirtdress and an off-the-shoulder navy cotton dress were being spread across her bed by the boys.
“I like this one,” Dot said, offering her the sundress.
“Pink,” Rowdy said. “It’s your favorite color.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever worn that one,” she admitted, eyeing the far-too-feminine pink dress. What had her sister been thinking when she bought it? She wrinkled up her nose and shook her head.
“You look good in this one, Ma.” Rowdy picked up the navy dress. “You wore this the day I won my first mutton-busting buckle.” He pressed it into her hands. “It’s good luck, I know it.”
“And your sparkly boots.” Dot held them up. “I’ve never seen them before.”
Poppy smiled at Rowdy. “I wasn’t planning on dressing up, Rowdy.”
“You don’t have to wear those boots, Ma. Your plain ones are fine.” He took the boots from Dot and returned them to her closet. Apparently, he wasn’t going to give up the dress.
While they hurried off to get ready, Poppy stared at the dress. She didn’t want Toben thinking she was dressing for him. She wasn’t. If she had it her way, she’d wear jeans and a nice button-down. But she didn’t want to disappoint Rowdy. She wanted him to be proud of her. And if that meant she had to wear a stupid dress, she’d do it.
She showered, smoothed lotion onto her legs and slipped into the dress. It fell above her knees, revealing more skin than she was used to. She stepped into her boots and sighed. Maybe if her shoulders weren’t on display...or she were wearing jeans.
“Aunt Poppy, Toben’s here,” Otis called.
“I’ll let him in, Ma,” Rowdy called out.
She stared at her reflection, so nervous she couldn’t move. She ran her fingers through her hair, then smoothed the fabric of her dress. It seemed too...little, showing far too much Poppy in the process. She shifted from foot to foot, then turned from her mirror. She added her gold locket with Grandpa’s and Rowdy’s pictures inside on its long chain, some gold hoops and a touch of lip gloss and forced herself from the bedroom.
“Ready?” she asked, refusing to look up. If she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t see his smug smile. She wouldn’t regret making Rowdy happy—because this was for Rowdy. Not Toben. But the kitchen was quiet, absolutely quiet. And the longer the silence stretched, the harder it was to keep staring at the floor.
She risked a glance up. All eyes were on her.
“You look real nice, Ma.” There was pride in her son’s eyes. “Thanks for wearing the dress.”
“Aunt Poppy, you’re so pretty.” Dot was staring.
“I like you better in jeans,” Otis said. “I’m hungry. Can we go?”