Three Little Words. Сьюзен Мэллери

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СКАЧАТЬ him like Dad taught me and then he threw up on my dress, which made me throw up. I wish you’d been here to take me to the dance. Stay safe, okay?

      Dear Ford, I’m sorry I haven’t written again for so long. My grandma died. She wasn’t sick or anything. Just one day, she didn’t wake up. I can’t seem to stop crying. I miss her so much. Mom is sad and it’s really hard. I’m trying to be there for my mom, doing my chores and cooking dinner a couple of nights a week. Sometimes, when I’m having fun with my friends, I feel guilty. Like I’m never supposed to smile again. Dad took me out to lunch and said it was okay for me to be a teenager. I wish I knew that was true. I hope you’re okay out there. I worry about you, you know.

      Dear Ford, I’m graduating. I’m enclosing a picture because, I don’t know. Is it weird that I write? You never answer, and that’s okay. I don’t even know if you read these letters. But it’s what I do because, in a way, I still miss you. Writing you has become this thing I do. Anyway, I’m going to UCLA. I’m set to major in marketing. Mom keeps pushing accounting, but with my math skills, we all know that’s not going to happen. I’m excited and happy, except I still miss my grandma. Are you in Iraq? Sometimes when I hear the news on TV about the war, I wonder where you are.

      Dear Ford, I love college. I’m just saying. Westwood is completely amazing and wonderful and we go to the beach most weekends. I’m dating a surfer. Billy. He’s teaching me to surf. I’m not going to class as much as I should, but I’ll make it up soon. I got highlights and I’m tan and this is the coolest my life has ever been. I love everything. I hope all is well over there, too.

      Dear Ford, Fool’s Gold Community College isn’t so bad. I miss my friends and Westwood, but this is okay, too. My parents still aren’t speaking to me except for the long conversations every week about how disappointed they are with me, that I wasn’t mature enough to handle UCLA. I feel really bad about being so stupid and irresponsible, but me saying that doesn’t stop the lectures. Still, I know I deserve them. Billy broke up with me a couple of weeks ago. I’m not surprised. He wasn’t exactly long-term boyfriend material. I’m going to pay attention to my classes and work on being more mature. Sometimes I think about you going off to war around my age. That must have been incredibly hard. I’m still learning how to stand on my own two feet. Thinking of you and hoping you’re well and staying safe.

      Dear Ford, I have a job in NYC. Can you believe it? A marketing job. Do you know how many marketing students graduate every year? Like a million and there are maybe two jobs and I got one of them! Me! Mom and I are going to find me an apartment. I’ve been looking online and basically what I can afford is about two hundred square feet with a toilet. But I don’t care. It’s New York. I’m really doing it. Little Isabel from Fool’s Gold is going to the Big Apple. By the way, do you know why they call New York that? Why is it like an apple? I’m not sure you’re even getting these letters, but I wanted to tell you the good news. Maybe someday when you’re back in the States you’ll come visit me. Dear Ford, Sorry I haven’t written in so long. I’ve been crazy busy. We’re working on a campaign for a new tequila brand. We’ve teamed them up with MTV and I’m involved. It’s really exciting. I’m meeting all kinds of people and I even get to go to the MTV Awards! I love New York and I love my job, even though dating here is as dismal as I heard it would be. Too many single girls. But I’m not desperate. I love my work and if a guy doesn’t treat me right, then I walk away. Hey, look—I finally grew up. I saw your mom last time I was home and she says you’re okay. I’m glad. Fleet Week was last month and I thought of you. Hope you’re staying safe, Ford.

      Dear Ford, Eric is the guy I told you about before. He works on Wall Street and is very cute and funny. Smart, too. One of his friends hinted that he’s about to ask me to marry him, which is exciting, of course. The thing is, he doesn’t know that I write you. I know, I know, you never answer and it’s more like writing my diary, only I think I need to stop. Because when I write you, I’m not just writing a diary entry. I’m wondering who you are and what you’re like now. It’s been forever. Ten years. Maeve is still popping out babies every couple of years. I’m sure you’re over her. At least, I hope you are. I know you’re still serving our country. No one knows what you do, but I can’t help thinking you’re in danger sometimes. I’m not that fourteen-year-old kid who swore she would love you forever anymore, but as silly as it sounds, you’ll always have a piece of my heart. Take care, Ford. Goodbye.

      CHAPTER ONE

      “DEATH BY LACE and tulle,” Isabel Beebe said as she waved the nozzle of the steamer.

      “I’m so sorry,” Madeline told her, then winced as she studied the front of the wedding gown.

      “Brides-to-be are determined.” Isabel lifted up the front layers of the white dress and carefully clipped them to the portable clothesline in the back room of the boutique. With a dress like this—multiple layers of flowing chiffon—she would start on the inside and work her way out.

      Isabel focused the steam on the wrinkles. An excited bride had wanted to find out if her potential wedding dress was comfortable to sit in. So she’d sat. For half an hour while on the phone with a girlfriend. Now the sample had to be steamed back into perfection for the next interested customer.

      “Should I stop them next time?” Madeline asked.

      Isabel shook her head. “Would that we could. But no. Brides are fragile and emotional. As long as they’re not tossing paint on the dresses or reaching for scissors, let them sit, twirl and dance away. We are here to serve.”

      She showed Madeline how to hold the chiffon so the steam flowed through evenly and then explained about the layers and the time to let the dress cool and dry before being put back with the other sample dresses.

      “It helps if you think of each wedding gown as a very delicate princess,” Isabel said with a grin. “From a family with a lot of inbreeding. At any second, there could be disaster. We’re here to keep that from happening.”

      Madeline had only been working at Paper Moon Wedding Gowns for three weeks, but Isabel already liked her. She showed up early for her shift and was endlessly patient with the brides and their mothers.

      Isabel passed over the steamer. “Your turn.”

      She watched until she was sure Madeline knew what she was doing, then returned to the front of the store. She replaced sample shoes, straightened a couple of veils, then gave in to the inevitable and admitted she was stalling. What had to be done had to be done. Putting it off wouldn’t change reality. Oh, but how she wanted it to.

      After sucking in a breath for strength, she went into the small office, grabbed her purse and stepped into the workroom and smiled at Madeline. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

      “Okay. See you then.”

      Isabel left the shop and walked purposefully to her car. Fool’s Gold was small enough that she generally walked everywhere, but her current destination was just far enough to warrant a car. That and the fact that driving meant a faster and cleaner getaway. If things went badly, she didn’t want to have to run like a frightened bunny. Not that she could in her four-inch heels, but still. With a car, there might be a spray of gravel and she could disappear in a cloud of dust, like in the movies.

      “Things are not going to go badly,” she told herself. “Things are going to go great. I’m visualizing greatness.” She nearly closed her eyes, then remembered she was driving. “I’m wearing my tiara of greatness even as I turn.”

      She went left on Eighth Street, then right, and before she was ready, she found herself driving into the parking СКАЧАТЬ