“Six. Do you want to stay overnight?”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.” She hung up and closed her eyes.
She was going to have to have some serious self-control on the night. Perhaps she’d invest in some duct tape for her mouth.
***
Zita stood in front of her wardrobe, her stomach in knots. She had nothing to wear, nothing that was appropriate for a conservative political dinner. She imagined the looks of disdain she’d get if she wore one of her normal, brightly colored, slightly quirky outfits. Not a great way to make a good first impression.
If only she was the same size as Carly, then she could have borrowed something from her. Zita had no idea how formal it was. She shoved a couple of dresses along the rack. Were any of them appropriate?
This was ridiculous. If she didn’t leave in the next half an hour she was going to be late. With a huff of disgust, she grabbed her phone and called David.
“I don’t know what to wear,” she said when he answered. “What’s the dress code?”
“It’s semi-formal.”
She groaned. She rarely had a reason to go semi-formal. “What are you wearing?”
“A black suit.”
She flicked through her clothes again. “What about the yellow dress I wore to Carly’s engagement party?”
“The one that makes you look like an exotic flamenco dancer?”
She smiled at his description. “So that’s a no. I’ll check if Bridget or Daniella have anything I can borrow.” She hung up and called Daniella. A few minutes later, she brought over a little black dress that fit.
Zita kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You’re a life saver.”
“My pleasure.”
Zita quickly did her makeup and then slipped on a pair of low slung black heels. She trotted down the stairs. “Mama, I’m off.”
Carmen glanced up. “You look lovely, if a little more sedate than usual.”
“Best I keep things simple,” Zita said. “It’s a conservative dinner, and I want to make a good impression.”
“There’s no point hiding who you are, Zita. They’ll find out eventually.”
“I’m choosing to break it to them slowly.” She doubted Bob would notice the effort, but she didn’t want to create a scene. She kissed her mother’s cheek and walked out the door.
The nerves returned as Zita parked at David’s apartment. Family was important, and David had a good relationship with his father. If Bob didn’t like her, would it hurt her relationship with David?
She took her overnight bag upstairs.
“You look gorgeous,” David said.
“Thank you.” She kissed him. “We should get going, the traffic is pretty bad.”
“All right.” After he locked his apartment, he took her hand and some of her nerves settled.
Once they were on the way, she asked, “Are there any subjects I shouldn’t mention?”
David glanced at her. “That’s probably a long list.”
Her stomach rolled. She was no good at keeping her opinions to herself, especially if it was something she cared deeply about.
“Don’t worry, Zita. I imagine most of the conversation will be surrounding Dad’s candidacy. Neither of us will probably have to say anything.”
