"And don't think you have to eat every morsel on your plate tonight, or any time. I know how they made a big deal of waste at your orphanage, but this isn't an orphanage. Those days are gone for good for you. Wade will come up with silly old expressions like Waste not, want not. And don't let Mrs. McAlister intimidate you with her glaring looks, either. If something doesn't taste right, spit it out on the plate. I do. Sometimes," she confessed, "I do it even if it does taste good, just to keep her in her place or to annoy Wade.
"Don't misunderstand me. I love him, but I also love teasing him. He's so . . . teasable. Is there a word like that?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"I don't care. We can make up our own words here if we like. In fact, there is nothing we can't do if we feel like doing it. Don't be shy. Ask for anything you want or need. I do, and as I promised, we're going to be like sisters," she emphasized. "Do you have to go to the bathroom or anything?"
"I suppose," I said. "Yes."
"Well, go do your business and then come to my bedroom immediately. We don't have time to go shop-ping before tonight's special dinner, but I have some things that will most definitely fit you. I'll start sorting them out and pick out a couple I think would work," she said. "Welcome to your new home," she added, and hugged me quickly before hurrying out. I stood looking after her, gaped about at everything for a moment in disbelief, and then went to the bathroom.
Afterward I followed her to the master bedroom. It was twice as large as mine, with a separate sitting area and another large-screen television set. The bed looked even bigger than kingsize. It was draped in a gold canopy with red silk bedding. There was a large, more decorative chandelier hanging in front of it. The walls were done in a technique she called faux paint. It made them looked like pink-colored leather.
Her vanity table extended almost the length of the wall on the right, with mirrors all the way. There were two master bathrooms, a his and a hers. She laughed and told me Wade kept his much neater and cleaner than she kept hers.
"He's very prissy about his things," she explained, and opened his walk-in closet to show me how he had all his clothes arranged by colors and styles. "You see how all of his shoes have a perfect shine as well," she pointed out. "He'd rather have heels and soles redone than buy new ones. I have to shame him into going shopping for himself. I ridicule his styles and tell him he's so out of date he'll make a bad impression on business associates. That works most of the time. You'll hear him complain about me and tell you he has to be thrifty about his own things because I'm not about mine. Don't believe a word of it. We're very, very rich," she declared, making it sound more like a condition than an achievement.
"You see our bed," she continued. "I had it made special. There isn't another like it anywhere, and it cost five times what something close to it would cost in a store. Wade has actually figured out how much it costs us per sleep. I think it's something like five dollars a night for fifty years. He can be so ridiculous when it comes to money, but I love him," she added, almost as though she had promised never to say anything negative about him without adding that at the end.
"I have everything sorted out," she said, taking me to her walk-in closet. It was larger and longer than Wade's, but it looked like one more dress or even a skirt would cause it to explode.
She held out two dresses, one black and one a kelly green.
"Try them on," she instructed, and stepped back. "You're not shy, are you? step out if you are."
"No," I said. "Where I've been, you lose that pretty quickly if you've ever had it."
"Oh, of course. You poor, poor dear. I'm so happy we can do this for you. No one should have to go through what you've been through," she said.
She stepped forward and toyed with my hair for a moment.
"We're going to my beauty parlor immediately tomorrow. You need conditioning and then some styling. Your forehead is a little low and narrow, and your face broadens at the jaw just like mine. You need to give the impression of a wider forehead and eye area. More bounce in your bangs, or maybe a longer, collar-length bob would do it. What do you think of my hair-style?" she asked, turning to show me the rear and sides.
"It's nice."
"Yes, it is. It works. We'll have my personal stylist, Dawn, do yours. I get the best people to work on me, and so will you. Well, go on, silly. Try the dresses."
She stepped b
ack again. I began to undress. I wasn't lying about not having the luxury of modesty while living most of my life in orphanages. Privacy was rare. As soon as a girl got her first period, the whole population who could understand what it meant knew. We showered and even went to the bathroom in front of each other.
And yet there was something about the way Ami was looking at me as I took off my clothing that made me a little nervous. I could feel her eyes examining my body.
"Oh, you don't wear a bra with these dresses," she told me. "It's all right," she added when I hesitated. "I haven't worn a bra with any dress for years."
I reached back to undo my bra, and she immediately moved forward to help. Still a little hesitant, I slipped my bra off slowly.
"You have wonderful, perky breasts," she said. "Just like me. That black dress is going to look very sexy on you. Any man who looks at you will feel his eyes popping. I love that feeling, that power over the so-called stronger sex. The truth is, we can lead them along like puppies on a leash."
I held the dress up before me. The slinky halter gown had a laced-up front and double-sided anklelength slit skirt. I had never worn anything remotely like it.
"Go on, try it," she said. "I have matching thongs for it, too."
It fit me snugly, but it seemed to me that half my bosom was revealed. Was that proper, what she wanted me to look like for my first dinner here with her husband and father-in-law?
"Oh, you look great in it."
"But is this okay for a family dinner?" I asked.