Fortunately, Cadence hadn’t had any questions about why a single mom might want a night to herself.
June really had the best friends.
Eleanor, for example, was really staying cool and patient as June did battle with her wardrobe, her frustration increasing palpably with each outfit change.
First, she’d tried a little black dress, figuring it was a classic. Except… she hadn’t worn that dress inyears, maybe longer than Benjamin had been alive. It didn’tofficiallynot fit, but it was distinctly less than flattering.
“I don’t know that that’s the right look for this event,” Eleanor said diplomatically. “That feels more like ‘date’ or ‘cocktail party’ over the energy of an open mic night.”
“Right,” June said. “Less classic, more cool. Let’s see what I can do.”
Next, she tried a cute top that she’d bought on a whim at a little boutique once, but that she’d never worn. As soon as she put it on, she rememberedwhyshe’d never worn it.
“Wow,” she said. “This looks like I am tryingwaytoo hard.”
Eleanor tilted her head consideringly.
“It’s not quiteyou,” she said.
“This is a sign I should never shop anywhere except Diana’s store,” June muttered, glaring at the top like it had personally offended her. “Diana would never do me dirty like this.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said, gently untangling the fabric from June’s fingers. “Let’s stop talking to the clothes, huh?”
June pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“Ugh, this is why I shouldn’t do this!” she cried. “I’m not a cool, open mic-going singer! I’m a mom! A boring, old, uncool, ugly clothes mom!”
“Take a breath, honey,” Eleanor said, looping an arm over June’s shoulders and guiding her down to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re spinning out. Your clothes are not ugly, and you’re not boring, uncool,orold.”
“I—”
“Please note that if you’re calling yourself old,” Eleanor interrupted mildly, “that you are calling me old. And I am hip and young, thank you very much.”
“Hip and young is old person slang, but sure,” June grumbled.
Eleanor laughed, then bumped their shoulders together.
“Why don’t you let me pick, huh? Then maybe you won’t feel so self-conscious about it, and we can actually get out here before the open mic is over. Andyes, June, for the millionth time, thatwouldbe a bad thing.”
“Yeah, sure,” June said resignedly.
She slumped back onto her bed, now strewn with her outfit rejects, and indulged in the simple pleasure of letting someone else handle the details for once.
And Eleanor was good at it. The outfit that she came up with was simple and comfortable without feeling too blah or boring. It was June’s best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged her perfectly and had been washed so many times that they were practically as comfortable as sweatpants without looking nearly as casual. The top Eleanor had pulled out was a royal blue shell made of a satiny material. The color had always flattered June, and, when paired with the jeans, looked chic without being too dressy.
“Okay,” Eleanor said, placing the items down over the edge of the bed. “So you pair them with these sandals.” She pulled out apair of strappy silver sandals with a barely-there heel, ones that June would be able to walk in all night but which added a flash of glamour to the outfit.
“Then,” Eleanor continued, “I was thinking you add a whole bunch of necklaces. Really mix and match. Silver and green if you have it. Throw a little boho element into it.”
“Eleanor,” June said, propping herself up slowly. “You are a genius.”
“Well, I’m no Diana,” Eleanor said, clearly pleased, “but I may have picked up a trick or two during my years attending fancy lawyer events.”
“You know my stance is officially that your ex-husband is a doofus for letting you go,” June said as she rifled through her jewelry box, “but I will thank the man for that, I suppose.”
“Well, his loss is your gain,” Eleanor said. “And mine.”
June blew her friend a playful, teasing kiss.
