“I’m so sorry,” an older woman said. “That was entirely my fault. I was trying to peek over there to see if—But you know, it was completely inexcusable, so I won’t offer you an excuse.” She straightened her shirt, which bore a Macy’s tag with her name, Celestine. Her steel-gray hair was cut in one of those short, slightly mussed cuts that only elegant older women ever pulled off. “Can I help you find something?”
May would have said no, but Ben was waiting. “I need jeans,” she said. “And maybe a few plain shirts. I’m going to be walking around the city a lot, so it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just, you know …” She looked down at Ben’s Packers track pants. “Not this.” She gestured at a rack of brightly colored skinny jeans. “And not that. Jeans. Ordinary jeans.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “Let’s see what we can find for you.”
Celestine led May through the racks, and ten minutes later she had her in the fitting room trying on six different pairs. Two of them were too big, two too small, and one gave her muffin top. The last one was a size bigger than she usually wore, but they fit. Not too short, and they didn’t pooch out at the waist and show the whole world her butt crack.
“How’s everything working?”
“These are okay.” May emerged from the dressing room, still wearing Ben’s T-shirt on top.
“Those look fabulous.”
“Thanks.” For two hundred bucks, they should make her look fabulous.
But could she really buy two-hundred-dollar jeans with Ben’s money? She’d never been comfortable spending Dan’s, and the prospect of signing a credit card slip with Ben’s name on it didn’t appeal.
On the other hand, she’d already taken the five hundred dollars he’d withdrawn from a bank on the way here. May’s emergency fund, he’d called it. You can give it back right before you board the plane in a few days.
Once she got access to her bank account again, she had the money to repay him for jeans and whatever else she wanted to buy.
And she was on vacation.
“Come look in the mirror,” Celestine told her. May dutifully obeyed. She squinted at her hips in the three-panel mirror.
Not too huge. Acceptable.
The jeans really did fit okay. When she turned sideways, she saw that the embroidered back pockets were placed in a way that magically made her butt appear smaller and tighter than it was.
“We need to get you in some heels,” Celestine said. “Your legs will look miles long in these jeans and the right pair of heels.”
“I don’t wear heels.”
“You should. I would, if I were you.”
“They hurt.”
“There are so many comfortable styles!”
May wrinkled her nose. “They make men feel short.”
“If you’re with a man who has a problem with your height, you’re with the wrong man.” Celestine winked. “Stay put. Now that you’ve found the right jeans, I’m bringing you more fabulousness, and I’m going to find a friend in the shoe department who can locate some great, comfortable-heeled boots that you can walk in for miles.”
May stayed put, turning side to side to look at herself in the two-hundred-dollar jeans.
You get to keep the clothes, so you might as well enjoy them. That’s what Ben had said.
Had she ever enjoyed clothes? As a kid, when she’d gone shopping with her mother, she had mentally counted down the seconds until the nightmare would end. Not that her mom was cruel—far from it. It was only that for the period their shopping session lasted, she would turn her complete attention on the problem of May’s body. How to make her look smaller, shorter, less chubby. How to find pants to fit her all-wrong adolescent shape.
Meanwhile, Allie would be gleefully choosing clothes off the rack. Can I have this one, Mom? How about these?
Everything fit Allie. Everything looked good. These days, she wore unusual ensembles she’d concocted over weekends spent thrift-store shopping. Mom thought the clothes made her look eccentric, but men turned to watch when Allie walked by. She was striking. Memorable.
Celestine came back with a single pair of pants. “Try these on.” She handed May some sort of faux-snakeskin horror.
“They aren’t really me,” she said doubtfully.
“Oh, indulge me. My personal shopping appointment didn’t show, and I’m getting a kick out of dressing you. You’re so fantastically tall.”