The Dating Arrangement

Emerson had needed braces, while Amelia’s teeth had been straight. During middle school, Emerson had become quite familiar with the dermatologist, while Amelia never so much as got a sweat pimple.

Amelia had twenty-twenty vision. Emerson needed glasses and contacts.

Amelia could wear anything off the rack. Emerson paid a good portion of her salary to her tailor.

Amelia had found her Prince Charming and gotten married. Emerson...

Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Didn’t the law of archetypes suggest that she was supposed to be the overachiever and her younger sister was destined to be the rebel?

Emerson clutched the cell phone in her hand. The reminder that, despite all of their differences, her sister did have her back. At least that was something. And something that was a constant source of guilt.

It would be so easy to be jealous of her sister, but Amelia—her little Mia—made that next to impossible. For every success Amelia achieved, Emerson seemed to fail at something. Yet, ever since she was born, Amelia looked to her big sister with awe in her eyes, as if Emerson were the one realizing great triumphs.

And here she was, silently bitching about her curly hair and lack of height.

She mouthed thanks to her sister and faced their mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. Really. I just needed to take a call.”

“From?” her mother asked, after her cursory examination of the wedding dress was complete.

Her palms began to sweat. “Um, just a client.”

“Which client?” Her mother put her hands on her hips.

“Well, a new client, as a matter of fact.”

“A new client. Way to go, Em,” Amelia added. “Your event-planning business is really growing. I knew organizing that food truck festival was going to put you on the map.”

She gave another grateful smile to her sister, even if Amelia didn’t understand she was lying.

“Food trucks!” Her mother shook her head as her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Honestly, who enjoys eating from a dirty truck in the middle of the street?”

“Um, everyone?” Amelia said, with a hint of sarcasm. Emerson stifled a laugh. “Did you see how many people attended the festival? It was epic.”

“Thanks, Mia,” Emerson said gratefully.

“So, who is this new client?” her mother asked impatiently. Clearly they were done discussing food trucks.

“Um, well...” She almost wiped her hands on the dress until she luckily remembered that sweat stains on a ten-thousand-dollar dress probably wouldn’t help her mother sell it.

“Well, what?” her mother said. “Honestly, Emerson, I can’t believe you are twenty-eight years old and still stuttering.”

I don’t stutter. Emerson jutted her chin out. She’d been accused of stuttering since she was a little girl, when in reality she sometimes needed a second.

“My new client is a bar. They want to reinvigorate the place. The Wright Drink, over on King Street,” she supplied. If she presented Jack as a client, it wouldn’t seem so random when she introduced him to the family as her boyfriend, at the anniversary party.

“Don’t we share the alley with that bar?” her mother asked.

Emerson blinked. “The alley? Um, I don’t know. Why would I know that?”

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, with true concern in her eyes.

Emerson’s mouth was dry, her heart was beating a mile a minute and she was beginning to feel that same overwhelming feeling that caused her to launch herself out of a window earlier. She didn’t know if it was because she was still wearing the dreaded wedding dress or because she hated lying to anyone, let alone her family.

“Yep, great. I’d like to get out of this getup though.”

“Let me at least get a look at you two first,” her mother said as her keen eye raked over her daughters, no doubt taking in every detail.

Emerson and her sister stood side by side as their mother did a circle. She stopped to dust something off the back of Emerson’s dress, and Emerson prayed that she didn’t notice the wrinkles from her fall, or any smudges she might’ve missed. If Jack hadn’t been there with his club soda, not to mention being there to catch her in the first place...

She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his strong arms around her. And the way he smiled at her from behind the bar.

I think you make a really beautiful bride.

“What’s that smile about?” Amelia asked.

Emerson snapped to attention. “Uhhh...”

“Emerson, you’re all flushed.” Beatrice did that universal mother move of pressing her hand to the forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

“No, just warm in this monstrosity of a dress,” she covered. Emerson really hoped she didn’t reek of beer or any of the gross alley smells. She took a step back just in case.

“That monstrosity of a dress is going to be a bestseller. I know it.” She took another moment to collect her thoughts. “Just as I thought. Amelia, that dress is prefect for a body shape like yours. Plus it comes in white, ivory, and blush. Customers will like that. I wish I could use you in the ad campaign. Everyone would want to wear this.”

Emerson couldn’t stifle an eye roll.

“And Emerson...”

“I know, I know. I look like a little kid playing dress up.” Emerson sighed and steeled herself for the critique.

Her mother scrutinized her for a moment before stepping forward. She pushed a curl behind Emerson’s ear. “I know this dress is not your personal style, but I was going to say you look beautiful.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe one day you’ll realize just how beautiful.”

Her throat tightened.

Jack told her she’d looked beautiful, and now her mother had too. But there was one person who had never said that. It was no wonder he’d left her at the altar. Why had she even been surprised?

Stepping back, Beatrice said, “Although, now that you mention it, when you slouch like that, you do look like a nine-year-old. Stand up tall, with your shoulders back. Like your sister.”

Once again, discomfort overtook her. She pulled at the dress. “I should change. Amelia, can you help me?” She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she pulled her sister through the store, past the racks of tulle, beading, lace, and organza. She ignored the shelves of sparkly tiaras and the glass cases filled with elegant jewelry. She didn’t stop until she was locked firmly in the dressing room with her sister.

“I really need to get out of this dress.” She began pulling and tugging, trying to figure out how to get it off her.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Amelia was behind her, quickly undoing the buttons.

When she was finally freed from the cumbersome dress, Emerson let out a long sigh. She crumbled down to the chair in her strapless bra and nude panties. For good measure, she took another long inhale of breath.

“Thanks for covering for me out there, Mia,” she said to her sister.

“No problem. But, Em, what in the hell happened? Where did you go? What’s wrong?”

I hate weddings. I hate wedding dresses. But most of all, I hate that Thad made me hate weddings and wedding dresses.

Emerson wanted to tell her sister. But the words were stuck in her throat.

“Is this because of Thad?” Amelia asked in a quiet voice.

She really should give her sister more credit. Emerson nodded. “Kind of.”

Amelia pointed at her. “I knew it. I told Mama not to have you come in today. I told her you weren’t ready for this.”

“You and Mama talked about me?”

“Of course,” she said, as if they talked about her all of the time. “Mama disagreed. She thinks you’re ready to start dating again.”

Emerson saw her own horrified face reflected back at her in the three-way mirror. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date. More, she knew her mother would have a list of suitors lined up, each suckier than the last.

“Maybe you should start getting out there again,” Amelia offered. “I mean, your wedding—”

“Nonwedding, you mean,” Emerson said.

“Sorry, Em. Your nonwedding was over a year ago. Have you been out with anyone since Thad?”

She shook her head. Amelia’s eyes filled with sadness. That look was enough to have Emerson popping up and grabbing her jeans and the red blouse she’d worn when she had first arrived at the shop. She dressed quickly, threw her hair back in a ponytail and faced her sister. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“But, Em, I, uh, get it. I do. I mean, with me and Charlie...”

She didn’t let Amelia finish the thought. It was barely noon and it already felt like the longest day ever. The last thing she wanted to hear about was her sister’s perfect husband and even more ideal marriage. Instead she headed toward the front of the store, ready to bid her mother farewell and get back to work. Only, her mother had other ideas.

“Oh Emerson, before you go, I wanted to tell you that my friend Suzette—you remember her, right?” She didn’t wait for Emerson’s answer. “Suzette is having a dinner party next week and her son will be there. He’s just recently moved back from New York. He’s a year older than you.”

Emerson froze. “Um, I have to work that night.”

Beatrice squinted. “I haven’t told you what day it is.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter. Also, Patty Ellington-Ross’s nephew is available and I thought it would be nice for you to show him around town. After all, Patty did attend your wedding. Or she tried to.”

Emerson didn’t know which part of that statement pissed her off the most.

Amelia jumped in. “Mama, I actually have a guy that I think would be perfect for Em. He works with Charlie.”

Emerson knew her sister was trying to help her, attempting to get their mother off her back. But she honestly couldn’t tell if Amelia really did want to set her up or not.

“I don’t need anyone to set me up on dates,” she said.

“Of course you do.” Her mother waved a hand in a flippant manner. “You haven’t been on a date since Thad.”

She took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m seeing someone,” she shouted.

Her mother and Amelia both paused, with their eyes going wide.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Amelia asked.

At the same time, her mother said, “Who is he? What’s his name?”

Now she’d really done it. She had wanted to keep Jack out of this for as long as possible. But it looked like she would have to move up the timeline. At least, she could probably keep her family away from him until the anniversary party. They should be happy enough to simply know of his existence.

“His name is Jack Wright and we haven’t been seeing each other very long.” She glanced at the time on her cell phone display. A whole hour had passed since she’d landed on top of Jack.

“Jack Wright,” her mother rolled the name around on her tongue, the same way her father savored a good bourbon.

“Right. I didn’t tell you about him because the whole thing is still so new. You know, I didn’t want to jinx anything.”

Her mother folded her arms across her chest.

Emerson felt obliged to elaborate. “Plus I was so ridiculously busy planning the food truck festival.”

Her mother started tapping her foot. “What does this Jack Wright do?”

Not for the first time in her life, Emerson had to wonder why mothers insisted on putting this in front of people’s names.

“He owns The Wright Drink, that bar I mentioned.”

“A bar?” Her mother’s eyebrows shot so high up her forehead, they might as well be across the Potomac River, in the District. “He’s a bartender?”

“Yes, but he also owns the bar.” Emerson could feel her anger rising. God forbid her boyfriend—or fake boyfriend—wasn’t a lawyer, like her father and her perfect brother-in-law.

“Wait,” Amelia added. “Didn’t you just say that bar was a new client? You’re going out with one of your clients?”

Thanks, sis. “That’s how we met. He hired me. I know it’s not the best idea, but I’ll only be working on the bar for a limited time.”

Silence fell over them. But the quiet was a mere reprieve, because the rapid-fire questions began almost immediately.

“How old is he? Where’s his family from?” her mother asked.

“Is he hot?” Amelia asked.

“Where did he go to school?”

“What’s he like?”

Jack was right. They totally needed to get to know each other. And fast.

“Um, um...”

“You need to bring him to dinner,” her mother announced. “At the house. We should meet him.”

“Why?” she screeched.

“Because it’s customary for the family to get to know your boyfriend.”

Amelia snorted. “Yeah, maybe in 1950. Mama, you are so old-fashioned.”

Beatrice actually appeared shocked by the statement. “No, I’m not. I’m just a concerned mother, taking an interest in her daughter’s life.”

Amelia rolled her eyes dramatically. “Concerned? More like nosy.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay out of it completely.” Beatrice tipped her nose into the air. “I won’t ask either of you anything about your lives. I’ll just stay on the sidelines, completely quiet.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emerson said.

Unfortunately, Amelia had a different reply. She put her arm around their mother’s shoulders. “Mama, we would never want that.”

Emerson shook her head. Her sister would never learn. She fell into their mother’s traps every single time.

Seeming appeased, Beatrice said, “Thank you, darling.” She kissed Amelia on the forehead. “Besides, most people think I’m quite modern, with impeccable taste. You know how in-demand this store is. We rarely have an opening for a fitting.”

“Here we go again,” Emerson said in a stage whispered to her sister, knowing exactly where this was going. “The reality show.”

Beatrice put on an air of shock. “What? It’s true. That network did want to film a reality show here. But I didn’t want to expose our brides-to-be to that kind of public scrutiny.”

Amelia snorted. “You may be on the cutting edge here at the store, but everywhere else in your life, you are so, so...”

“Southern,” Emerson finished for her.

“And what is wrong with that? My mama knew every young man who courted me.”

She saw Amelia biting her tongue at the use of courted.

“But the whole thing is so new,” Emerson protested.

“Thursday night at the house. Let’s see.” Beatrice tapped her finger against her lips. “We’ll have a filet and use my mama’s china.”

“Honestly, Mama, no one does stuff like that. We’re eating dinner with some guy Em’s dating, not the Queen of England.”

“I think it’s nice to put a little effort into dinner. Makes a guest feel special.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Emerson announced.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. But after a long moment, she acquiesced. “Fine. We’ll have chicken and dumplings.”

“Yes!” Amelia pumped her fist into the air. Beatrice Dewitt truly did make the best chicken and dumplings in town.

“I’ll even use our normal, everyday plates. Satisfied?” She arched an eyebrow in Emerson’s direction.

“But, Mama, this is all unnecessary.”

“However, we are definitely eating in the dining room. I will not compromise on that.” Her mother wasn’t listening. She was already in full-on planning mode, filling a void left after Amelia’s wedding.

“Seven o’clock, Emerson. Tell this Jack to be there. Amelia, come with me.” She snapped her fingers, and with a smile to Emerson, Amelia was following their mother. “Did you remember to change the bridesmaids’ dresses from pink to lavender for the Theez-Porter wedding?”

Emerson turned toward the door, feeling her heart once again beating much too quickly. She’d really done it now. If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d hooked up with a fake boyfriend, she’d gotten her fake boyfriend hooked up with her family.

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