One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 42

The farm/nursery is six minutes out of town. It's the only spot in town for fresh produce in the summer and fresh greens in the winter. It provides almost the entire town with their Christmas trees. And it's belonged to the same family since my mother's parents lived in town. I swing my door shut and cross the damp lot. Shit/mud sticking to my boots. Great. Good thing my pedicure is safe.

I pass aisle after aisle of circle wreaths –some giant and festooned with holly berries and white lights, some covered with fake white snow and pinecones, and some miniature woven with golden tinsel. Braided ropes of green snake up mock lampposts, advertising themselves nicely. And of course there're the odd-shaped forgotten trees no body liked enough to claim.

The small stable-house is set up like a tiny shop. I push my way inside and may as well have been smacked in the head by a cinnamon stick/candy cane hybrid. A display case on the left holds caramel apples, blocks of fudge, peppermint bark, and a TON of pies.

"Hello, dear." A lumpy old lady greets me. The same old lady I remember from my childhood visits. She's hardly changed.

"Hi. Picking up for Rhodes." I smile.

"Oh sure, sure! Right over here. I'll have Eric walk them to your car. Where are you parked dear?"

"The second spot there," I say pointing. "Thanks."

She ushers me to the back aisle along the stables. Tickets are pinned to wreaths, ropes, trees and other various clusters of pine. The waiting area for pre-orders no doubt.

"Here you are," she says and points to a row of 10 different wreaths. Looks like my mom picked one of each kind.

"Eric. Eric!" She hollers at a younger man wrapping a tree. "Take these for Miss Rhodes. Her car's parked there."

I don't know why I'm surprised she knows who I am. True, I am picking up for Rhodes but I could be anyone. Eric looks at the lady and then at me, then my car. He smiles and walks over to the stack of wreaths. He grabs the largest one at walks in the direction of my dad's truck.

"Thank you," I shout to the lumpy lady before I turn to follow Eric.

"Can I just toss it in?" He asks.

"Sure, pile them up." I shrug. He turns to get more wreaths. He makes three trips then pats the back of my truck and I take that as confirmation he's done.

I text my mom before she has a panic attack.

Package picked up. Be there in 10 xo

I drive back through town, past the spa, to the other side of the Main Street. The benefit is being held in the grand ballroom at the oldest hotel in town, which just so happens to be directly across from the town square complete with frosted water fountain and gazebo. I pull my dad's truck up to the front door, just behind a large catering truck unloading carts of food.

"Emmy!" My mom spots the truck and races over, waving at me, as if I didn't see her.

"Here are your wreaths. Safe and sound." I roll my eyes as my mom directs two guys to take the wreaths from the truck and into the hotel.

"Thank you, honey. So much! You can go now," she says, shooing me away.

"Gee, thanks. And you're welcome."

"See you at 6!" My mom blows me a kiss like I'm 12.

I pull away into town again and head to the hair salon early for my 1:30 appointment. I find it. I get the best blow out I've had in a while. I'm browsing their beauty counter for a new lip color when I feel my phone vibrate in my coat pocket.

YOU UP?

I smile at my phone like it's just put fresh air back into my stale lungs. LOSER. The woman part of me wants to wait, make him wonder what I'm doing. The other side of me, the slightly weaker woman side, can't move her fingers fast enough in response.

UP

...

Can I pick you up yet?

I smile at my tiny phone screen again. It's tempting. V tempting to have Brooks come over early –to 'help me get ready' as he said before. But I'm still not ready. And I like the idea of him waiting to see me. Even if it's only for three more hours.

YES.

AT 5.

I safely stow my phone bag in my bag, next to my new lip color Make a Mauve on Me. The ride home is quick and before I know it I am sitting on the edge of my bed, brewed coffee in hand. I'm almost done tweezing the last of the peach fuzz. The water is running in the tub so I can shave my legs next. Being a woman is like the best and worst of the world at the same time.

3:13 PM

I climb onto the side of the tub and straddle it with one foot in and one out. I shave one leg from ankle to bikini. Rinse razor. Repeat. I make sure no hair gets left behind. Apply lotion. And stand up. I follow my usual make up regiment, albeit slightly heavier on the smoky quartz eye shadow and of course the dark lip. I unclip my hair and it falls over my shoulders, still perfectly bouncy from the blow out but now with a slight twisty wave.

My dress is hanging in the doorway, its folds still showing from being tucked in my suitcase for two days. I run the nozzle of the steamer over it a few times and decide it's close enough.

4:20 PM

I've got time, but I'm also weirdly nervous. Like what's my deal? I put my dress on to keep myself busy. It is easy enough to slip on without wrinkling it. I pull the deep wine fabric up over my hips. I reach my arms through the lace sleeves. The mirror in the bathroom reveals my reflection.

Dress. Is. Perfect. And dayum am I feeling myself right now. It's dark maroon and slightly clingy, but in a thick-material-non-slutty kind of way. Only the long sleeves are set with a lacy overlay and the deep V in the front mimics the one in the back. No room for a bra tonight. No need for one either ;)

Not too shabby, Em.

I slip into my pumps and grab my beaded clutch from the counter. After running through my mental checklist one last time, I finally decide there's nothing left for me to do but wait.