The Prince Charming List (23 page)

I
convinced myself that Marissa was busy and I was being a Good Samaritan by dropping off the dresses that she’d loaned us for the parade. The fact that I would see Jared at the studio was unavoidable. I hoped. So was the fact that I hadn’t heard from him since Blonde One and Blonde Two had parked their convertible on his doorstep Friday night.

“Hi, Heather. I was just thinking about you.” Marissa was at the cash register, a pen tucked between her teeth. She had on a cute pair of cat-eye glasses studded with rhinestones. “We should have a meeting pretty soon about our August fund-raiser.”

There was that word again. August. Hearing it had never made me nauseous until now. “I brought back your dresses.”

“There was no rush.” Marissa came around the counter and I kept my eyes focused on her. Not on the doorway behind her. The doorway to the room Jared was working in. She took the two garment bags and draped them across her arms. “It’s not like I’m going to be wearing them anytime soon. I was actually thinking about donating them to the high school. Maybe the drama club could use them in a play.”

I couldn’t believe Marissa would be willing to part with them. When she’d brought the dresses over and shown them to us, they were so gorgeous Kaylie and I were afraid to wear them. One was a creamy-white taffeta and the other dusty-blue, both tea-length and similar in style, with bell-shaped skirts over yards of stiff netting. I couldn’t tell how old they were. The way fashion cycled, they could have been Marissa’s or reached back another generation.

“Were they yours?”

“This one was.” Marissa patted the white gown that Kaylie had worn as Cinderella. “It was my wedding dress. Do you have time for a cup of tea?”

The words
wedding dress
derailed my thoughts. For some reason, I’d assumed that Marissa had never been married. Maybe because she had that creative, independent soul—the kind that didn’t go through life, glancing at The List.
Like some women.

“Heather?”

What was the question? Something about tea.

“Oh, tea. Sure.” Bree was going out to dinner with Riley—an official date that didn’t include horses, farm chores or a bonfire. She’d been so busy helping Sam with the farm they hadn’t been able to see much of each other. I’d been invited to go along but I’d said no. Not because of the “third wheel” thing but because I was still trying to decide which circle to color in on my multiple-choice test. Now I knew what it meant to
pray without ceasing,
because that’s what I’d been doing all day. And still no answer. Just when I thought God had been shining a spotlight down one path, He’d illuminated another and left me at the crossroads.

“Come on up.” Marissa took the stairs two at a time but I lingered for a second, wondering if Jared had heard my voice and if he’d come out to say hello.

Marissa paused, glanced down at me from the railing and once again read my mind.

“I kicked Jared out of the studio today. He discovered that he has to have Junebug finished by next month and to say it put him in high gear is an understatement. He told me he didn’t need a break but I told him that I did. From him.”

“I confessed that I was the one who’d gotten him into that.” I trudged up the stairs, disappointment making my feet heavy. Maybe he hadn’t quite forgiven me.

My clothes melted against my skin the second my foot hit the top stair. The studio was like a sauna. A fan hummed in the corner, cheerfully churning the warm air around the room.

Marissa put the dresses over a chair. The gentle way she arranged them didn’t match up with the casual way she’d mentioned donating them to the high school. And the smile on her face when she looked down at them was…sad. How long had she been married? And what had happened?

“Would you like it iced or hot?” The sadness was gone now, swept away behind her usual serene expression.

“Iced. One to drink and one to dump on my head.”

“I know it’s hot up here. The air conditioner is on the fritz. I can’t get anyone over here to fix it until Friday.”

I didn’t know how she could stand it. “What does Jim Briggs do?”

Marissa dropped an ice cube and it spun across the floor.

“Excavating. Why?”

“He just strikes me as the kind of guy who can fix anything. You should ask him to take a look at you…
it.
”

“Oh, should I?” Marissa stared me down.

I’d watched some old Shirley Temple movies with Mom on satellite. I could do wide-eyed and innocent. “Just a suggestion.”

“Uh-huh. Follow me.” She pulled on a cord hanging above our heads and a piece of the ceiling dropped down. A rickety ladder that reminded me of the contraption Grandma Lowell used to dry her “unmentionables” was attached to it.

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I bought this building.”

Marissa scrambled up the ladder with the ease of a mountain climber and disappeared.

Up you go, Heather. This is a lot less dangerous than Lester’s crop duster.

I tucked the glass of iced tea against my side and maneuvered up the rungs—which brought me onto the roof. And into a wonderland. Marissa was waiting for me in the middle of a garden. I wasn’t an expert on artistic style but I could tell the sculptures scattered around us were Marissa’s work. Pots overflowing with flowers and real live miniature palm trees crowded every inch of space around a circular stone patio in the center.

I couldn’t believe this wasn’t visible from the street.

Or maybe it was and I just hadn’t noticed it. “This is incredible.”

Marissa looked pleased and curled up in one of the umbrella-shaped chairs, drawing her bare feet under her. “This is my
being
place. When I’m up here, it clears out my head. The studio is my
doing
place. Even though I love my work, it’s output. This is input.”

Like Baby Bear, I wandered around the circle of mismatched chairs, poking cushions, until I chose a wicker rocker with a lumpy floral cushion. It reminded me of the furniture on Bree’s sleeping porch at the farm. When I sat down, the scent of roses drifted up.

“I wish I had a being place.” Even Dex had one—the musty cockpit of Lester’s old crop duster.

Marissa smiled. “You’ll find one. It takes time.”

That was not comforting. I blew out a frustrated sigh. “What doesn’t?”

“Let me think. Instant pudding. Hot dogs. Weeds.”

She was right. And anything I said now would sound like whining, even though whining would feel good. Really good. I crunched down on an ice cube to keep my mouth busy until I could come up with a safer topic than
waiting
.

“So, what are your plans at the end of the summer? Are you going back to Minneapolis?”

This was
not
a safer topic.

“I have a job opportunity with a ministry that helps single moms transition back into the workplace. It combines giving women advice about their lives and shopping. Two things that some people would say I excel at.”

“Really?” Marissa murmured.

I searched for sarcasm. None there. I was free to move on. “It sounds like a perfect fit, doesn’t it? And it’s a
ministry
. I’ve been asking God to reveal His plan for my life this summer and I thought this was
it
. Until Bernice called last night—from Italy, I think—and offered to turn the salon over to me.” I swirled the ice in my glass until it created a miniature whirlpool in the center.

“And you feel obligated to Bernice?”

“No! She and Alex told me they’d be fine with whatever I decided. I…” Was I brave enough to say it? “I love working in the salon. But that
can’t
be the plan.”

“Why not?”

She had to know the answer to that. Making a difference in women’s lives verses trimming their split ends. This should be easy.

“Because it’s…” I couldn’t say the word
shallow
. Even though Mrs. Darnell had apologized, I still had some internal bruising. “Superficial. It’s not important in the scheme of life. It’s not a ministry.” Even Dex had said so.

Marissa sat back in the chair and studied me. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

I shrugged.

“Don’t you think that God gave you the gifts He did for a reason?”

“That’s just it. They aren’t
gifts
. The things I’m good at aren’t exactly mentioned in the Bible, but I have seen them in the class schedule for the cosmetology school I went to.”

“That must be your answer, then. To apply for the job in Minneapolis…” Marissa’s voice was as neutral as a referee’s.

She was probably right. I could get excited about that one, too. When I’d read the job description, it sounded like it was designed specifically for me. So why did I still feel restless?

“…because people like Amanda Clark and Kaylie Darnell are customers. They aren’t a
ministry
.”

The iced tea took a detour into an airway it wasn’t supposed to.

“They aren’t just customers,” I managed to squeak.

“No?”

My mouth dropped open. I saw where this was going. “You’re good.”

Now she laughed. “Food for thought.”

And I was choking on it.

“Let me dust off my podium one more time.” Marissa leaned forward. “Yes, God has a plan for your life, but He usually doesn’t play the entire thing all at once for us like a movie. Step by step. With Him. That’s how it’s going to unfold. You don’t have to figure it all out right now. What God wants is
you
. He wants you to stay close. And if you do that, you’ll hear His voice when He whispers in your ear—
this way.
”

That sounded too easy. And too hard.

Marissa must have sensed my confusion. “I have to get an order ready to ship tomorrow but go ahead and stay here for a while. I’m happy to share my being place with you.”

“I thought I heard voices up here.” Jared’s head appeared in the trapdoor and then he hoisted himself onto the roof, smiling a guilt-free smile at me. “I stopped by your apartment a while ago.”

“I was here.” As if he hadn’t figured that out for himself.

For some reason, my heart hadn’t given that funny little kick I was used to feeling when I saw him.

“I wanted to take you for a ride. Maybe get something to eat.” He glanced at his watch. “There’s still time. It’s only six-thirty.”

The back of Jared’s motorcycle was not a
being
place. And hanging out with him would be stirring another ingredient into my already muddled up head. Was this a good thing?

“So what did you end up doing over the weekend, Jared?” Marissa asked. “I didn’t see you at the Fourth of July Frolic.”

Was it my imagination, or did she emphasize the word
frolic?

“I went to Madison on Saturday and Sunday morning some friends of mine talked me into going swimming.” He glanced at me. “How did the float turn out?”

“We got first place in the Most Beautiful category. A bunch of people came over to help.”
But not you.
“Marissa helped with the roses.”

He must have heard something in my voice because he reached out and took my hand. Right in front of Marissa. “Every time I go somewhere in this town, every Jethro Bodine and Daisy Duke stops me to ask me how I’m doing on the statue. Then they give me a detailed description of the clay dog they entered in the fair when they were ten. I needed a chance to breathe some air that wasn’t tainted by cow manure. I knew you’d understand. You’re a temp, like me. I needed to be in the real world. Get my center back.”

“I’m not sure I’m a temp,” I said slowly, testing each word. They felt pretty good. “I might stay in Prichett.”

He laughed. “Doing what?”

“Whatever God wants me to do.” Saying that felt pretty good, too.

Jared’s eyebrow rose. It had been cute before, now it looked…condescending. “If there is a God, He gave you a brain for a reason. I think it’s up to
you
to decide what you want to do. All that God-stuff throws you off center.”

If there is a God…
Right then, I felt like an actress in one of those natural disaster movies. The one where the ground shakes and all of a sudden an earthquake splits the ground between two people, leaving one of them on one side and one on the other. With a crack as deep as the Grand Canyon between them.

Jared was great. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent, creative. We had fun together. We had a lot in common. In the back of my mind I thought it would be really sweet of God to introduce me to my future husband while I was seeking His will about my future plans. Kind of like those two-for-one specials at the shoe store.

But something Kaylie had said that day at the salon came back to me. She was tired of being two people. If I got into a serious relationship with Jared, I’d end up trying to be two people, too. In small ways, it had already started to happen. And I knew myself well enough to know that eventually, just like Kaylie, it would tear me apart.