Margaret from Maine (9781101602690) by Joseph Monninger Read Free Book Online Page A

“Margaret, I have three dresses and you’re welcome to any of them that suit. What’s your dress size, darling?”
    â€œI want to say six, but probably an eight.”
    â€œI’m an eight, too. Maybe a six in my good stretches. Trust me, you’ll have a wonderful time. It’s a beautiful building and they have a rotunda or whatever you call it. Everyone will be dressed up, but that’s not to scare you. These tickets just fell into my hands and I can’t use them and you two can. What do you say? Let us do this for you.”
    â€œYou’re very kind,” Margaret said. “But I was just getting relaxed. . . .”
    â€œI understand. I do. It can feel awfully good to be quiet for a while, especially for a woman with a child. But you’re not in Washington very often, Charlie tells me, and we just happened to come into these tickets. Charlie can come over, bring the dresses. . . . I’ll send over some wraps and a few pairs of shoes . . . size eight if that works. There’s not a thing in the world to worry about, and if you end up having a terrible time, well, what’s the worry there? You just go back to the hotel, right?”
    Margaret felt her stomach churning. She had never expected this, not in a million years. She wished, somehow, that she could pause the whole procedure, hit stop, like you did on a DVD, and then call Blake and get her thoughts. But she was on her own and she had difficulty reading the weather inside her head.
    â€œThis is just out of left field,” Margaret said, mostly to give herself time to think.
    â€œWell, of course it is. But it’s a ball in one of the prettiest embassies we have in D.C. They serve French food and a symphony orchestra plays. I mean, it’s right out of
Cinderella
. I went two years ago and we had a marvelous time. Do you like to dance?”
    â€œIt’s been so long, I don’t really know.”
    â€œThere’s lots of dancing, naturally. And the food and drinks are excellent. I mean, it’s French, so you can expect a certain amount of skill. It’s a pretty big affair, and you can be relatively anonymous. It will just be you and Charlie, and he’s a great guy. Then you can go back to the hotel, and it won’t be a great night’s sleep . . . but you’re not leaving tomorrow, are you?”
    â€œNo, Sunday night.”
    â€œThere you go, then. Sunday can be your sleep-in day. And tomorrow after the signing ceremony, you’re free then, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAm I making a good case to go?” Terry asked.
    â€œYes. You are. Yes, then, I’d love to go. If it’s not too much trouble with the gowns and everything, yes, it would be wonderful.”
    Margaret felt herself blush. She waited while Terry said good-bye, said something to Charlie, then heard Charlie clear his throat.
    â€œI’m so happy you agreed to go,” he said. “It starts at eight, so would it be all right if I swing by at seven? Or six thirty? Will that give you enough time to dress?”
    â€œYes, that would be fine. Maybe six thirty. I’ll need a little time.”
    â€œI’ll bring the gowns and we can leave the two you don’t want in your hotel room.”
    â€œI’m a little overwhelmed,” Margaret said.
    â€œIt’s just like going to prom,” Charlie said, “only you can have a drink and not get into trouble with the chaperones.”
    â€œSix thirty then?”
    â€œI’ll be there.”
    Margaret listened to him hang up. She closed her own phone and set it on the bedside stand. She felt a giddy, happy rush in the pit of her stomach that mixed with an equal flood of reservation and hesitation. If it hadn’t happened so quickly, she probably would have fended the invitation off. But it had arrived out of the blue, and she had accepted, and now, one way or the other, she was