Every Girl Gets Confused by Janice Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

in the studio, where Dahlia and her team worked against the clock to turn out gowns for customers. I managed to get Hibiscus started on Queenie’s alterations, then turned my attention to the upcoming Christmas promotions in the Tribune .
    Up front Madge and Twiggy kept the customers happy. In the studio out back, Dahlia and her team continued theirwork. Nestled in a tiny office between the store and the studio, I did my best to promote the shop and to run interference with customers who weren’t thrilled that their dresses were taking longer than expected. Of course, I spent a good deal of time glancing through the open doorway into the office across the hall, occupied by my handsome chicken-fried-steak-eatin’ man.
    Not that we had a chance to talk about anything other than work. With such a crazy flurry of customers, who had time to think about food? Or take a break? We certainly didn’t talk about the obvious thing—Brady’s upcoming surgery. No matter how I tried to open that Pandora’s box, he kept it tightly sealed. But with his pre-surgery appointment approaching, he’d have to talk about it soon.
    I thought about that as I took a call from a newshound Friday morning. The reporter—if one could call him that—tried to wheedle information out of me about the condition of Brady’s knee, but I refused to play along. No one could accuse Katie Fisher of having loose lips.
    On Friday morning, midway into composing an email to the local paper, I received a phone call from my brother Jasper in Fairfield. His first words threw me a little. “Houston, we have a problem.”
    â€œUm, my name is Katie, and I live in Fairfield. Er, Dallas.”
    â€œWhatever.” Jasper grunted. “We still have a problem.”
    â€œWhat’s up?” I leaned back in my chair and closed my laptop.
    â€œMom and Pop are out of the country. Again. This is their second trip in less than a month.”
    â€œRight. Galápagos. Turtles.”
    â€œYeah. Trying to picture Mom with the turtles, but it’s just not coming to me.”
    â€œMe either. But that’s not why you called,” I reminded him.
    â€œTrue. Okay, it’s almost the holiday season, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Suddenly he sounded very businesslike.
    â€œI am.” A quick glance at the calendar to my right proved it: Friday, November 6th. “And . . . ?”
    â€œAnd I’ve never done the display window at the hardware store before. That was always your job.”
    â€œOh, it’s really not that big of a deal. You just—”
    â€œYou’re coming back to Fairfield tomorrow to help the other ladies plan Queenie’s shower, right?”
    â€œYes. And . . . ?”
    â€œAw, c’mon, Katie. I was kind of hoping you’d stop by the hardware store and help me. You’re the creative one.”
    â€œI don’t know, Jasper. I’ve got a full day. After we plan Queenie’s shower, I’ve got to go to her place to deal with my dress.”
    â€œYour dress?”
    â€œYou know, the one I won in the contest.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, deal with it?”
    â€œI’m putting it in Queenie’s cedar closet.”
    â€œAh.” The long pause that followed was probably his way of saying, “So, you’re not wearing it anytime soon?”
    â€œAnyway, I can swing by the hardware store after that if you like, but you probably won’t really need my help. I’m pretty sure you guys can handle a window display without me.”
    â€œNot sure about that. I need some tips. Ideas.”
    â€œIt’s easy,” I said. “Just go up into the attic and look for the lights and tree and tinsel and stuff.”
    â€œWell, yeah . . .” He left to ring up a customer and then returned about twenty seconds later. “Sorry about that. How do I make hammers and saws and toilet