What do people wear for dates that aren’t dates? I didn’t have a clue. That made me anxious. And several hours before I had to leave to catch a ferry the next night to meet Daniel, a slow-rising panic was filling my body. I hoped Aunt Mona knew what she was doing.
Critiquing my reflection in a floor mirror, I stood at the back of a boutique shop—Junk and Disorderly Vintage Clothes, just down the street from Mona’s theater, which separated their racks of vintage clothing by era, 1920s to 1990s. Aunt Mona squatted on the floor in front of me, checking the length of my hem, while Grandpa Hugo sat on a bench outside, chatting with a couple he knew from across the island, whom he’d stopped when he spotted them passing by.
“Perfect,” Mona said.
I twisted to peer at the paper tag pinned to the back of the bodice. “Better be. It’s insanely expensive.”
“Can you really put a price on something that looks this good?” she said, standing up to admire it from a fan of fake eyelashes that were made from tiny bird feathers. Today’s wig was a silver bob. “Besides, it’s my treat. You know I can always find money for new clothes.”
She’d bought most of mine since I was old enough to walk. I smoothed my hand down the fabric of a casual 1950s dress. It had a narrow belt and a pleated skirt that looked “supremely Nancy Drew,” according to Aunt Mona. It was also the only thing in the store right now in my size that was purple—mauve, close enough—for whatever reason Daniel had in mind.
“If we had a week or two, I could make you something fabulous,” she said.
Likely it would be covered in sequins and have insane accessories.
“I love this,” I said. “Honestly.”
“Oh, good!” she said, clapping the tips of her fingers. “I needed a little joy today.”
I looked at her face more closely. “Why? You haven’t seen Leon Snodgrass again, have you? I thought you were going out on his stupid yacht tomorrow.”
“Still am. Just to talk.”
“About what?”
Her eyes darted away. “Nothing. To catch up, that’s all.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Maybe it was the little worry line that creased her forehead. Maybe it was because I had no faith in Leon Snodgrass. For all I knew, he was planning to seduce her and whisk her away to Texas, or wherever he was living now. Aunt Mona leaving the island one day had always been a secret worry of mine, and now that I was working in the city and soon facing decisions about being an adult, Idoubleworried about her leaving. I just always thought she’d be moving back to Seattle—not to the other side of the country.
I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” I asked.
“Ugh,” she complained, letting her head loll back as she squeezed her feather-deckled eyes shut. “You’re worse than my own mother, Birdie.”
“You don’t speak to your mother.”
“No,mi corazón—shedoesn’t speak tome. There’s a difference.”
“I feel like you’re keeping secrets,” I said. “That violates our sacred pact to always be honest with each other.” I raised three fingers. “It’s the second part of the Daring Dame pledge.”
“On my honor.” She held up three fingers, then took my hand, petted it, and sighed. “Sometimes when you say things a certain way, you look and sound just like your mom, and it makes me extraordinarily happy. Remember when I sold my first painting, and we were going to go out to that fancy seafood restaurant and celebrate, but you’d sneaked that entire jar of Nutella? It was all over your face.”
“You called me a brownnose for weeks. Ms. Patty, too.”
“Your mom was so calm when she was trying to get the truth out of you—‘Birdie, I get the sinking feeling you’ve already spoiled your dinner,’?” Mona said, doing a pretty good imitation of my mother.
I chuckled, remembering standing in the kitchen of our tiny apartment, knowing I was in trouble. “I truly had no idea how you guys knew. I’d buried that jar in the trash pretty well. And, you know, to this day, I can’t even hear the word ‘hazelnut’ without getting a little queasy.”
Mona’s laugh was deep and throaty as she tugged at the bodice of my dress, looking me over. “Honestly, me either. I had no idea a girl that small could vomit so much. You were a live-action parenting course. I should get some kind of medal for all the stuff I learned from living with the two of you.”
“Hey,” I said, squinting. “Don’t think you can distract me with memory-lane stories. What’s going on with you? I’m genuinely starting to worry, and when I worry, things get blown up to epic proportions. In my head, you’ve got three days to live, and you’re leaving on a plane to Jakarta tonight with Leon without even so much as a good-bye.”
She snorted a little laugh. “If I had three days to live, I definitely wouldn’t spend it on a plane with Leon. Stop worrying. It’s nothing like that what-so-evah,” she said dramatically. “Look, it’s not a three-days-to-live situation, but I don’t need gossipy island busybodies listening in on my personal stories here.” She waved her hand toward a couple of elderly shoppers who were most definitely listening to us, scattering when they realized they’d been caught. Then Mona said in a lower voice to me, “I promise we’ll do girl talk soon, okay?”
“But—”
“Stop. Worrying.”
