Josh front lately, so they’re hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”
“He’s a favorite topic?”
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.
“He’s gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”
“That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.
“She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’ll survive.”
“There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.
“Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn’t had a real fling in a while.”
“There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.
“That was last year. I can’t think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don’t think I’m his type.”
“If you’re female, you’re his type,” a woman across the room said.
Everyone laughed.
Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh’s eyes. He’d been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn’t want to expose any weakness.
“She’s really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you’re not.”
Charity didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”
“You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”
Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She’s not herself.”
Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.
She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.
Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.
Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.
She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she’d gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn’t bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she’d worn all day.
The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she’d worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.
As usual, she’d blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.
“When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.
She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she’d found a great job in Seattle. She’d been the youngest person on the mayor’s staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she’d been taken more seriously.
When she’d moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she’d continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the look. She’d stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she’d stopped caring.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of her dress.
She opened the door and was surprised to see Crystal standing there.
“I don’t mean to pry or anything,” the other woman said. “But are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Pia is actually really nice. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by what she said.”
Charity stepped into the hallway and tried to smile. “I know. It’s the heartache and margaritas talking. Not that she wasn’t speaking the truth. I’m frumpy and I can’t figure out exactly how I let that happen. Or when!”
“They say acknowledging the problem is the first step in healing.” Crystal’s blue eyes danced with humor as she spoke. “You’re really pretty. You just need to play up your assets.”
“I need a new wardrobe.” She brushed the front of her dress again, feeling self-conscious about the old-fashioned fit.
“Easily done. That’s why we all have credit cards.”
“I’ve been letting mine get dusty for far too long.”
“Then you should go shopping this weekend.”
“Believe me, I will.”
“Good for you,” Crystal told her. “Retail therapy is the best kind.”
They walked toward the kitchen. Charity found herself not wanting to go back to the group. The need to run and hide was fairly powerful and not very comfortable. But before she could think of an excuse, Crystal spoke.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“We have a fundraiser every year called Race for the Cure. We support childhood diseases, mostly cancer. I’m on the committee and we’re heading into our busy time. I can’t…” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “I’m really busy and don’t have the time I need. Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk you into taking my place.”
Charity was grateful Jo had told her about Crystal’s illness. With that information, she knew how to avoid misstepping.
“I’d love to be a part of that,” she said.
Crystal looked surprised. “I was prepared to twist your arm and everything.”
“I want to get involved with the community,” she said. “This gives me a perfect way to do something good while meeting people.”
“Then we both win,” Crystal said. “Thank you.”
A
