“No,” my father said dejectedly.
“We will drink and mourn and eat discounted birthday cake later. But right now, I have to go meet Mark’s parents, and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Uh oh, she’s meeting the parents,” Sophie said, shaking her head slowly. “Nancy Holbrook runs the Holbrook Foundation. She’s from old money, related to the Rockefellers. She only wears custom Chanel suits and has a perfectly coifed bob. You can’t wear one of your lacy cutoff-jeans numbers.”
“Of course not,” I said, rushing into my room and throwing open my closet. I sighed in dejection as I looked at my cute but admittedly quirky clothes. I started throwing them out onto my bed to try to find something—anything—suitable to wear to Nancy Holbrook’s.
“Maybe this pencil skirt?” I suggested, digging it out of the bottom of my closet, “and this blouse?” I struggled to pull the pencil skirt on and only managed to wedge it halfway up my thighs. “Definitely wish I hadn’t eaten the last muffin,” I huffed as Sophie helped me pull it up.
Riiiip!
“Nooo!” I yelled dramatically. “What am I going to wear?”
My dads appeared in the doorway.
“No,” I said. “Whatever you found at the garage sale, I cannot wear it.”
Beau held up an incredibly nineties high-waisted peach shorts suit with a long jacketá laJulia Roberts inPretty Woman.
“There’s even a belt!” he said happily.
“Dad, no!”
“Girl,” Amy said, pointing to the time. “Mark’s going to be here any minute.”
The suit smelled like wet cat. I pulled the shorts up, and my dad handed me the belt.
“At least you shaved your legs,” Amy said as she combed some product through my hair to try to tame my curls. She fluffed them over the massive shoulder pads.
“This is insane,” I muttered. “Is this even appropriate for a dinner party?”
“It’s not a dinner party, it’s a casual meal on the terrace,” my dad reminded me. “You look amazing.”
“Just keep your legs together,” Amy told me.
“Too late for that!” my dad joked.
“Dad!”
“The shorts look more like a skirt if you aren’t flopping your legs around,” Sophie assured me.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Tall, willowy, beautiful Julia Roberts pulled off the look inPretty Woman. However, I was none of those things.
“I need to cancel,” I moaned. “I need to tell Mark this isn’t happening and cancel.”
“You can’t do that. It’s rude,” Todd chastised. “Now here is your wine, and Amy brought you a lovely bouquet to bring to your dinner.”
“Make sure you don’t eat anything like black bean hummus or poppyseeds or Oreos that could get stuck in your teeth,” Amy instructed as she sprayed me with Febreze.
“And try to sound somewhat marginally intelligent. Also, types like Mark's mom don’t like a lot of PDA,” Todd said.
“But don’t do no PDA,” my other dad chastised as he smeared makeup on my face. “You have to make them think you care about Mark.”
“I do care about him.”
Buzzz!
“He’s here!” my father chirped.
