Ready for Marriage?. Anne Marie Winston

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the word you really want to use!’’

      ‘‘Well, no,’’ she said, smiling a little, ‘‘it’s not.’’

      ‘‘I don’t mean to pry,’’ Faye assured her. ‘‘The thing is, I agree with you, honey.’’

      Kristin stared at the older woman, speechless. She did?

      ‘‘Dr. Mahoney’s a great boss,’’ Faye said, ‘‘and I love working for him. But it’s been hard to watch him shut himself away from everything but that little girl since dear Debbie died. You’re all that’s kept him from folding his tents completely—’’

      ‘‘I don’t know about that,’’ Kristin interrupted.

      ‘‘I do,’’ Faye said. ‘‘You make him eat and go to work. You help with his housework and do his laundry. You’ve raised Miss Mollie, don’t think you haven’t.’’

      ‘‘That may be true, but as Derek pointed out to me, those aren’t reasons to get married.’’ She shrugged, trying to stave off the hurt the memory produced. They’d patched up their disagreement, if that was what that odd, charged exchange in which he’d accused her of teasing him had been, but there had been an uncomfortable strain between them that had lingered until she’d thanked him for the ride and slid out of his car.

      Faye snorted. ‘‘That man can’t see his nose on his own darn face. Don’t you pay him any mind.’’

      Kristin tilted her head. ‘‘What do you mean?’’

      ‘‘Any fool can see you care about Dr. Mahoney,’’ said Faye.

      ‘‘Is it that obvious?’’ She was dismayed.

      ‘‘No, no,’’ said Faye hastily. ‘‘But I’ve known you since you were a little girl and I’ve never seen you look at a man the way you look at Derek when he isn’t looking back.’’

      Kristin felt herself flushing. ‘‘So?’’ She didn’t mean to be rude. She’d known Faye long enough to know the older woman wouldn’t take offense.

      ‘‘So you’ve never listened to him before,’’ Faye said, grinning. ‘‘You aren’t going to start now, are you?’’

      Well. She had a point. But still… ‘‘Yes.’’ She made her voice firm. ‘‘I’m not going to live the rest of my life wishing for something I can’t have. If Derek doesn’t want me, I’m going to open myself to other possibilities.’’

      ‘‘You mean other men?’’ Faye’s eyes were wide.

      Kristin nodded.

      ‘‘Don’t be hasty, honey. You dragged him back from the edge of climbing into that grave with Deb,’’ Faye reminded her. ‘‘He didn’t know what was good for him, and he still doesn’t.’’

      ‘‘But…’’ She was at a loss as to how to handle this strange conversation. ‘‘How am I supposed to…what can I do when he says—’’

      ‘‘Feminine wiles.’’ Faye smiled meaningfully. She tapped a brown shopping bag she’d brought in and set on the floor beside her. ‘‘I’ve got a few things in here that my daughter Carlie can’t wear since she had the baby. We’re going to make you look more like a woman.’’

      ‘‘More like a woman?’’ She fingered the mass of shining curls that fell over her shoulder. ‘‘I don’t think I exactly resemble a guy.’’

      ‘‘No,’’ Faye agreed. ‘‘You sure don’t. We’re just going to remind Dr. Mahoney a little bit.’’

      ‘‘How?’’ Kristin asked suspiciously. ‘‘I don’t want to have to wear a bunch of makeup—’’

      ‘‘Honey, with that face and hair you don’t need makeup!’’ Faye stood up and shook out something in a pretty shade of teal that she’d pulled from the bag. ‘‘But your clothes are another matter.’’

      ‘‘I like to be comfortable.’’ What did she mean about the face and hair? The face was too pale, even if she did have pretty eyes, and her hair…the color was nice, but the wild curls refused to be tamed. If she cut it short, it would only form a frizzy halo, so she wore it long and usually braided it or pulled it back.

      ‘‘You like to hide,’’ Faye corrected. ‘‘You won’t be uncomfortable in these things, but you’ll be noticed, that’s for sure.’’

      The teal fabric was a slinky knit dress, sleeveless and scoop-necked. There were several little sleeveless tops, a pair of well-worn jeans and a denim skirt that didn’t look big enough to cover her butt.

      ‘‘The dress is for evening,’’ Faye told her. ‘‘Try this stuff. Once you’ve gotten used to it, we’ll go shopping and get you some things of your own to match the new you.’’

      ‘‘I can’t afford to go shopping.’’ That was true. Her father had poured all his money into establishing Appalachian and had been heavily in debt when he died. Although at seventeen she technically still had been a minor, it had never occurred to her to default on the loans he had made. The money she’d gotten from Derek for the house and the practice had gone a long way toward erasing what she owed, but she still had a heavy schedule of loan payments to make for another year. She could hardly wait until the loan was paid off. Then she could start saving for a house of her own.

      ‘‘Secondhand shops and Goodwill,’’ Faye said. ‘‘I’ve gotten some great stuff there.’’ She shoved the bag into Kristin’s hands. ‘‘Now go try on these things.’’

      Faye was a force of nature when she was on a mission and Kristin knew better than to argue. If she hurried, she wouldn’t be too late.

      Everything fit like a dream. And that was a problem. She was used to wearing loose, baggy clothing. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d worn a skirt and she felt disconcertingly exposed. Even to church, she wore one of two trouser suits she’d had for years.

      ‘‘I can’t go out in public in this,’’ she said as she came out of the half bath off her small kitchen. ‘‘This’’ was the teal dress. It was deceptively simple on a hanger, but on a body…she was afraid she might just be illegal.

      ‘‘You look terrific!’’ Faye crowed, walking all around her. ‘‘What’s the matter?’’

      ‘‘It’s…’’ She motioned vaguely. ‘‘Too revealing.’’

      ‘‘It’s modest compared to what some girls are wearing these days. Go try the rest.’’

      Faye approved each of the other items, but when Kristin attempted to change back into her own clothing, the older woman shook her head. ‘‘Just wear that today.’’

      Kristin looked down at herself. She was wearing the jean skirt with a spring-green camisole top. The top had a tiny drawstring bow made of ribbon at the rounded neckline, and ribbon was laced through the straps as well. The only saving grace was that she could still wear her bra. ‘‘Isn’t it a little bare?’’

      ‘‘No.

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