The Do-Over by Kathy Dunnehoff Read Free Book Online Page A

maybe, just maybe, wetting her pants a little. “I can think of about a million reasons why not!” She took a deep breath and looked around the room to give herself a minute to pull it together. One wall held a rack of pegs with half a dozen pair of overalls hanging. Several feet lower on the wall a small overall rested on its own peg. Mara turned back to Stella in question.
    “Shipping crew.”
    “Huh.” Mara shook off the vision of a seven-year-old union worker. But the distraction had calmed her some. Maybe she could clarify for herself what she was doing. “I want…” What did she want?
    “You want to leave the family in the station wagon for a little while and have a cup of coffee by yourself.”
    Mara leaned forward, her arm on the desk. “Yes!”
    Stella shrugged.
    Mara sighed and sat back. “You’re right. Everything will be fine. Dan will get over the shock. It’s just a month, and I’ll go back, and things will be normal and fine.”
    “Didn’t say that.” Stella took the lid off her coffee, tossed it, and took a bigger drink.
    “What? What will happen?”
    “Hell if I know,” Stella snorted.
    “Hell if I know,” Mara repeated.
    Mara considered the immediate future if she left. She’d just put on her frumpy sweats and drive back. She was certainly capable of that. “It’s not that I can’t go home.” Her palms started to sweat, and she thought of the work that waited there, that always waited. She didn’t want to go home, yet.
    The thought of Dan upset in the middle of McDonalds made her feel both ill and irritated, but the thought of giving up the month that had just come to her made her feel hopeless. “I just want more.”
    Stella raised her coffee. “The loft is yours.”
    Mara wished she’d thought ahead and brought travelers checks. Thought ahead. That was a good one. “Do you take credit cards?”
    Stella laughed. “I think we can work it out.”
     
    First, she needed some more clothes, one good outfit and some frumpy sweats, that she refused to wear again, weren’t enough to get her through a lovely July in Vancouver. The thrill of it shot through her in equal parts excitement and pee-your-pants fear. Maybe that was the definition of thrilled. And after clothes shopping, she’d need a few things for the loft, then a bath, a nap, maybe a matinee, or dinner out in a restaurant she’d never experienced before like Turkish food or Canadian cuisine. What was Canadian food like? Well, she’d figure that out. She had a whole month to discover a whole world. She entered the clothing store and found the clerk hanging housecoats on an aluminum framed clothesline with shiny red clothespins.
    “I’m Mara, I need another outfit, and you’re good at it.”
    “Gretchen.” She studied Mara, smiled. “Farrah hair.”
    Mara tossed her head. “Yeah, I thought it went with the clothes.”
    “Good eye.” Gretchen looked around the store. “I’ve got most of the seventy’s pieces this way.”
    “No. Something different. Something that flows.”
    Gretchen looked at her from sandals to highlights. “Chiffon. I’ve got a chiffon blouse in sea foam green. Classic. And some trim eighty’s pants in black for evening. The sandals will still go. For day I’ve got a peach linen skirt. I think you’d like the green pedal pushers…” Gretchen pointed her toward the dressing room and took off across the store. Mara went into the small room, sat on the chair in it, an old round back wooden one with a pink polka dot seat.
    Gretchen returned and handed over a pair of black pants and a nearly sheer blouse that gave the word flow new meaning. She draped it over Mara’s arm, and it felt like the freshness of spring. And when Mara put it on, it felt as lovely as it looked. The pants came in tight at the ankle and were stretchy and sleek, and she knew she’d never worn pants like them before. She’d worn trousers and occasionally suburban jeans that were just looser, higher-waisted versions