12 Days of Mistletoe

43. Bonnie

FORTY-THREE

bonnie

The sun shines down on the snow-covered ground, turning it into a blaring spotlight. I’m a little warm all bundled in my coat and hat while walking, despite the cold temperature. But Abe, the border collie, needs a full two miles or he’ll chew up every single one of his owner’s shoes—at least that’s what I’m told.

I hold on to Noel’s and Abe’s leashes and adjust the one earbud in my ear, my cell snug in my coat pocket as I talk to my sister.

“He took care of you?” Meg asks.

“He did. It was kind of surreal.”

“Oh, Bonnie,” she says, and I’m not sure what that tone means. Does she not understand?

“Come on, Meg. Men normally run away from my anxiety, they don’t break into a planetarium and soothe me.”

“Wait—breaking and entering. I don’t approve of breaking and?—”

I groan. “He did nothing illegal. At least, I don’t think he did. His friend runs the place, and he got permission to take me there. It was quiet and peaceful, and I rested. We just talked.” Okay—a tiny bit more than talking, but Meg’s already a little anxious herself when it comes to Elliot.

“I like him,” she says, surprising me and proving my thoughts all wrong in one breath.

“You haven’t met him,” I say, unsure why I’m trying to support her advice to go slow.

“He left something he loves to take care of you, Bonnie. I am officially a fan.”

“But what about him trying to get me evicted? What about how I hardly know him? What about how living a lie makes the truth confusing?” I tromp down the street and shake my head. “You said all those things.”

“He didn’t have to take you away from the busy hall and care for you. He could have asked you to endure it. He could have left you in the car. He could have given you the keys and said to drive home.”

“None of those things are Elliot. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Which is why I am now a fan.” She huffs. “What’s the problem?”

“I—” I’ve walked Abe from his apartment to mine with the plan to walk him back again, but May Elliot sits outside, in the cold, in front of my apartment building, waiting—it seems—for me. “Ahh, Meg, I gotta go.”

“But you were going to tell me—” she starts.

But my eyes are on May. “Byeee. Love you,” I tell her, pressing one finger to my right earbud and ending the call.

May stands as I walk up to the front entrance.

“Is this a new one?” she says. “That’ll be another two weeks if so.”

I cough out a laugh. “Ah, no. This is Abe, he’s one of my client’s dogs. We were just headed back to his place, finishing up a walk.”

Noel trots over to May, as far as her leash will allow, and waits for the older woman to pet her. She remembers May and assumes some love is in store. Abe stands back with me, sitting on his back legs and whining at our pause.

“That’s a good girl, No-No,” May says, calling Noel by my nickname. My lips perk up in a grin.

“Are you visiting Elliot?” I ask.

“No, I’m here for you, darling girl.”

My brows knit. I don’t remember having a meeting, a practice session, or a baking lesson with May. In fact, other than seeing May this evening, I thought we had the day off.

“I hear you need a dress.” Her penciled brows lift along with the corners of her mouth.

I swallow and warmth blooms in my cheeks. “May, I’m sorry about the symphony.”

“Oh, pish posh.” She waves away my concern with a flick of her wrist. “I’m not here about that. I’m here for shopping.”

I tug on the ends of my long hair. In my opposite hand, Abe’s and Noel’s leashes go sweaty in my grasp. “Elliot said I could borrow one of Evelyn’s dresses. I can’t afford?—”

“Bonnie, you misunderstand.” She dips her head, her eyes glued to my face, waiting for dawning to occur. “This is my Christmas gift to you. I’m buying you a dress, dear.”

“Oh—” I shake my head.

“And no arguing. I’m an old lady and should be allowed to spend my money as I wish.”

I’m not sure how to argue with that.

“Please take Abraham home so we can go.”

“Now? You want to go now. Um—okay.” I lick my cold lips and run a hand beneath my icy nose. “I’m walking him. The Brewster’s have paid me, so?—”

“That’s fine. Finish your job. I’ll wait for you at Elliot’s.”

I have never stepped foot inside MontanaChic in my life. My income will not allow me to even look inside the windows. But here I am with May, who absolutely looks like she should be here.

May Elliot has her hair pulled up in a soft white bun, she’s in flowy pants and a cute top, and she’s searching through a rack of red strapless gowns. The kind I have no business wearing.

She peers back at me standing there—not searching. “Or maybe you’d rather have a green dress?”

“Um—I, either way. Whatever you want.”

“Bonnie, dear, this is your gift. Your dress. It’s not mine. Which would you rather? What will you wear again?”

A laugh bubbles from my lips and Noel—who May convinced the woman behind the counter to allow inside—bumps my palm with the top of her head. “Wear again? May, I’m a dog walker, an activity director at a senior center, and a nonprofit volunteer?—”

“Don’t forget the doggy photographer. Elliot told me all about that one. Very interesting.”

“Right, that too. The only place I’m likely to wear one of these dresses again would be my living room for a private dinner with my dog.”

She laughs as if I’ve told her a joke. “Yes, well, that sounds fun.” She knots her hands together and lays them in front of herself. “I’m happy to buy you something more practical, but I thought this would be more fun.”

“Oh, it’s definitely more fun.”

“You could always sell it after and put the money toward something else. I wouldn’t be offended.” She turns back to the dress racks. “I like red. How about you, dear?”

Forty minutes later May has made me try on a dozen dresses. A dozen. The same number of days she’s asked me to kiss her grandson. Man, it’s been a weird month. It wasn’t that long ago that the most exciting thing in my life happened to come in the form of a coupon for a free six-piece from our local fried chicken joint.

I have found my favorite dress. But the anxious, frugal girl inside of me isn’t sure she can say it out loud. It’s a sexy dress, a fancy dress, a stupidly expensive dress. One a girl like me would never ever own.

“I won’t make the choice for you,” May says, looking over our options.

I bite my inner cheek and peer down at the tags of a simple V-neck, straight-skirt dress. I hold it halfway up for Noel, lying next to a cushioned bench, to see, but she looks bored with my visual.

“Not that one.” May’s blue eyes dart from my hand to my face. And then, that sweet old woman smacks me on the wrist. “Are you looking at price tags? Well, that’s rude.”

“I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just don’t want you spending?—”

“Bonnie Faith Miller. I am a grandmother, and I’ll spend whatever amount I like on whomever I like.” She sets her hands on her hips. “I have a mind to buy the most expensive dress here, whether you like it or not.”

“May,” I moan .

“Bill is on his way. Maybe we’ll just let him choose.”

“Bill? Why would Bill come dress shopping with us?”

“Because I asked him to. And he’s a lovely sort of man and said he would—right after his audiologist appointment. He should be here any moment.”

I huff out a breath. This is exhausting.

“At least pick your top three.” She waves her hands at me while peeking out the window.

I put the plain, long-sleeved V-neck in my like pile, no matter what May said—it is the cheapest, and it’s pretty. Plain, but pretty. I add a green spaghetti strapped thing that flairs at the skirt and reminds me of Cinderella to my pile. And I add my favorite, which I’ve known all along—the crimson-red, draped shoulder, corset bodice, soft cowl neckline with the thigh-high slit. I have never in my life worn something so delicious or elegant. Not even to the junior prom.

May is still watching out the window while I give the armful of dresses I’ve decided against to the store clerk.

“Oh! Oh! I see him. There he is.” May shakes her finger to the window, her sweet smile wide.

I think May might have a crush on my friend, Bill. The man is a charmer. After eighty-four years, he has perfected the skill. Plus, he still has quite a bit of hair on his head. Believe me, after working at the senior center for as long as I have, you learn that it’s like finding a rare gem.

She shuffles to the door, meeting him as he walks through the entrance. “I’m so glad you’re here. We need a man’s opinion.”

Do we? Or does she want to spend the afternoon with Bill ?

May leads and Bill follows over to the trifold mirror and cushioned bench where I stand with my top three.

“Hi, Bill,” I say, a silly grin on my face. The two have thoroughly distracted me from my worries over price tags and dresses I have no business wearing.

“Hello, Bon Bon,” he says, with a quick kiss on my cheek. His khaki pants are cinched tight with a brown belt, and his red plaid shirt is tucked in at the waist. He looks nice, and I’m pretty sure there’s gel slicking his white hair back. That’s new. And most likely for May.

“Bonnie, try one on for us, dear.”

I snatch the red V-neck and head into the dressing room.

Sure, it’s the cheapest of the dresses, but that price tag still frightens me.

I pull out my cell and type out a quick text.

Me: Can I really allow your grandmother to buy me a dress? This place is expensive, Elliot.

Elliot: You can. You should. Has she referred to herself as your fairy grandmother yet?

I smirk. My eyes rove over Elliot’s name—I wish I had a photo of him for my contacts. I write back, pulling in a breath for five and out for seven as I type.

Me: No. Is that coming? I might not be able to resist that. Cinderella’s my favorite.

Elliot: Go with it. I promise it’s okay. I help her with her bank statement every month. So, I know! And sharing this with you makes her happy .

I blow out a breath and throw my shirt over my head once more. I slip into the long-sleeved dress that feels a little like butter. Sure, it’s not my favorite, but I’ve never owned anything this beautiful.

I step from the dressing room, running my hands down the length of the straight skirt.

May beams. “Stand in front of the mirrors,” she says, waving a hand at me. There’s a mere inch between her and Bill on that cozy couch. “It’s better on you than on the rack, that’s for sure.”

Bill grins too. “Very nice, Bon Bon.”

“Spin around,” May says, and I listen as if she were my middle school principal. She sets a hand on Bill’s arm. “I love getting to play fairy grandmother. It’s my favorite.”

I sputter out a laugh and the pair dart their eyes up to me. I cough down a swallow and control myself. Elliot’s timing is too perfect. “I love that,” I tell her. “ Cinderella is my favorite fairytale. You’re the best fairy grandmother I could possibly imagine.”

The skin around her eyes wrinkles with her smile. She winks at me. “I really am. Let’s see the next one?”

I nod and return to the dressing room. I pick my phone up from the bench inside this room and send another text to Elliot—I can’t help myself.

Me: She just said it! You’re psychic.

Elliot: Nah. I just know Gran.

I set my phone down, but it pings before I can change.

Elliot: Where’s my picture ?

My heart pounds and I gnaw on my bottom lip as if it were a puppy’s rawhide.

Me: What do you mean?

Elliot: She’s made you pick your top three—I know that woman. I want pics.

I swallow and point my phone in the direction of the mirror, standing tall. I snap the picture and peer down at it—with new eyes, Elliot eyes. What will he see?

Hmm… fake smile for one, messy bun for another, but the dress is decent.

I delete the photo and take another—this time with my eyes crossed and my tongue out. Yep. That’s the one. I hit send and wait.

Thirty seconds later I am still waiting. So, I slip dress number one from my body and grab the green spaghetti straps with the full skirt. With the dress halfway on my body, my cell pings. I can’t wait. I’m too impatient. I pick it up and read:

Elliot: Dress—7/10

Face—8/10

You—10/10

I giggle. After looking at every dress in this store, I’d probably give this one a six out of ten. It would still be the most beautiful thing in my closet.

I slip into the spaghetti straps of my green dress and snap another pic. This time I puff my cheeks out and widen my eyes into the biggest circles possible. I send it off to Elliot and then force myself to be patient by leaving my phone in the dressing room. His reply will be waiting when I come back—I hope.

“That one is nice,” Bill says. “I like the green with your hair.”

I stand in the center of the trifold mirrors, right in front of May and Bill, and spin—without anyone instructing me this time. I learn fast. And maybe I’m ready to get back to my dressing room.

“Yes, very pretty,” May says. “Let’s see number three.”

“Sure,” I tell her, then take off for the dressing room, my legs swishing between the layers and layers of tulle and lace in this dress.

Snatching my cell from the dressing room bench four seconds later, I turn and lock the door behind me. I slink onto the little bench and grin at Elliot’s response.

Elliot: Dress—8/10

Face—9/10

You—10/10

I slip from the green dress and hang it back up. I give my favorite a once over—gosh, it’s beautiful—before pulling it from its hanger. It’s soft and lovely, and I might feel a little like Cinderella when I put it on—not because of the dress design, but because when I see myself in this thing, it’s me, but the best of me. I don’t see doubts and worry and weakness. I just see me—and I look good.

The draped shoulder shows off my peacock scar which I oddly feel even more proud of since telling Elliot the story. The slit peeks at my right leg to the middle of my thigh. I walk dogs for a living—and my legs are proof. I have awesome legs. I set a hand to my stomach and breathe in .

Then—I screw up my face, teeth-gritting with an obnoxious grin, eyes squeezed shut, and snap a picture of myself to send off to Elliot.

My face may be ridiculous, but that dress still looks great.

I wait three seconds for a reply, but not even three little bubbles pop up to tell me he’s writing. I can watch my cell impatiently, or I can show off this beauty to Bill and May.

I step from the dressing room, my head and shoulders feeling taller than before. I walk to the center of the mirrors so reverently that Bill and May, deep in conversation, don’t even notice me.

I clear my throat—announcing that I’m here—and Bill blinks up at me.

His bushy brows raise, and the right side of his mouth quirks up in a funny grin. “Wowza, girl. Now that’s a dress.”

May’s face melts into pleased triumph. “Yes, I like this one too.”

Noel hums out a small moan, lifting her head as she lays next to May, almost as if to say she agrees.

I press my lips together, hands clasped behind my back, and stay silent—though I can’t help my grin. I love this dress. I won’t say as much. But I can’t stop my smile.

May dabs at her eyes. “Yes, this one is just beautiful, dear.”

Bill smacks his knee. “Winner winner chicken dinner,” he says, giving me one more approving nod. “One-thirty’s gonna fall head over heels.”

I swallow. “Bill.” I shake my head, but no other words escape. Pushing out another breath, I start for the dressing room, time to change.

“Oh, one moment, Bonnie.” May stands, waving a hand at me. “ I like this one. You may choose whichever you like, dear. But I do like this one. It suits you.”

I lick my lips and grin at my friend. She’s a hard woman to say no to.

May holds up her phone and I smile as she snaps a picture of me.

I clear my throat again, finding my voice, and run a hand down the length of my favorite dress. “You know, I think I like this one too.”

“Good.” May clasps her hands together. “It’s settled, then.”

I walk back into the dressing room and peer at myself one more time, vowing to wear this dress every single Christmas Eve for the rest of my life. I may be sitting in my living room, just me and Noel, but this dress will be on my body. May’s hard-earned money will not go to waste.

My cell pings behind me—I almost forgot about my text to Elliot. My heart thumps. I don’t need Elliot’s approval, but I wouldn’t mind if he liked it just the same.

He’s sent a photo including his ratings. It’s me in this dress—but not in the dressing room and not with my screwed-up face. It must be the photo May took of me not two minutes ago. The lighting is better, and I’m smiling as if I were Cinderella receiving her invitation to the ball.

Elliot: Wow.

Dress—10/10

Face—10/10

You—perfection