These Boots Weren't Made for Walking (29 page)

“That reminds me,” snaps Callie, still in a snit. “Besides the photo you e-mailed, I haven't actually seen your bridesmaid dress.”

“I can show you now,” I say as I go back into my closet and remove the garment bag. “Not that there's much we can do if you don't like it.” I unzip the bag and hold out the sage green dress. “It's not fancy.”

“It's pretty,” says Cammie. “And that shade of green will be great with your dress, won't it, Callie?”

Callie examines it more closely “This was the best you could do?”

I shrug, then hold the dress up to me. “It's not like it's easy to get to the city and shop,” I point out. Then I actually tell them about running into Eric that day. Cammie, of course, is all sympathy. But Callie is still being a grump. I wonder if this is about my going to the French restaurant or something else.

“This is a size twelve,” proclaims Callie, as if it's some federal offense.

“So?” I narrow my eyes at my older sister.

“So, I thought youcl lost weight, Cass.”

“I have.”

“But a twelve?”

“Callie,” says Cammie, “we're all made differently, okay? Don't do this.”

“But a
twelve
, Cass,” says Callie. “You should be at least a ten by now.”

“Look,” I say, feeling hot tears in the back of my eyes. This is an old battle and one that I really don't want to fight tonight. “The ten fit pretty good. But it was tight across here.” I point to the girls. “Get it? I didn't want to bust out at the seams during the wedding. Or show too much cleavage. Some people in this family might think it's okay to go prancing around in cute little T-shirts that are way too small and revealing, but that's not for me, okay?”

“Everything all right in here?” asks Mom, peeking her head into my room. Of course, she has on one of those very T-shirts right now. And I'm sure she's been listening.

“Just fine,” I say sharply. “Callie is giving me fashion advice— like how I should wear a size ten instead of a twelve.”

Cammie stands up and puts an arm around me. “I think you look fantastic, Cassie. Terribly sexy.” She glances at our older sister, who's still glowering on the bed, and smiles at her. “I think Callie's just feeling a little jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” snaps Callie, getting up and pushing her way out of my bedroom.

Fortunately, I hear Andrew calling from downstairs, announcing that my man is here. So I grab my long coat, and Cammie tells me to have fun. “We'll be fine,” she assures me as I head for the stairs. Then she winks. “You know how holidays can be.”

I sigh as I carefully go down the stairs, taking it easy on my knee with these high heels. I do remember how holidays could get stressful. Often our parents would get into a fight. Or one of us girls—usually me—would be unhappy for various reasons. Yes, I do know how holidays can be, and that makes me even happier to be going out tonight. In fact, I feel a bit like Cinderella as I leave my mom and sisters behind. I'm so used to being the one who's left watching the others coming and going. Its strange to think of Callie being jealous of me tonight. Although it makes me feel just a little bit good, I feel bad for her too. I wonder if something bigger is wrong. Not that she'd ever admit it.

“You seem quiet tonight,” says Ross when we're practically at the restaurant.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. Then I give him a brief explanation of the dynamics at my house. Of course, I don't mention the size-twelve jab. It still hurts too much.

“Well, put those things behind you,” he says as he escorts me up to Petit Ours Noir. “Tonight is for good food, good friends, good wine, and fun.”

“Sounds delightful.”

And it is. I can't imagine an evening more nearly perfect. But I still feel that something is missing. Maybe I'm just feeling guilty for abandoning my family. Or hurting my mom with the skanky-T-shirt comment. Still, for Ross's sake, I keep on my party face. I laugh and joke and delight in the food. But I'm truly thankful when the evening ends. I blame my knee for seeming tired as Ross drives me home. And he says he understands. Then, as if this were a real date, he walks me to the door.

“I never mentioned it earlier,” he says as we stop at the top of the steps, “but you looked truly beautiful tonight, Cassidy. Really stunning. I know everyone thought I was with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

I could just about fall over. But I'm sure that would hurt my knee, which is actually a little sore now. “Well, I…uh…thanks, Ross,” I finally manage to mutter.

And now, to my utter shock, he is leaning in—-like he's about to kiss me. And I do not know what to do. I mean, sure, I've kissed guys before. Well, at least two or three. And I certainly got plenty of experience with Eric. But I'm totally unprepared for this. So I brace myself, tilt my head slightly up, close my eyes, and wait.

Ross plunks a sweet little kiss on my forehead. “Thanks for a delightful evening, Cassidy.”

I smile, relieved that he didn't kiss me on the lips, yet somewhat disappointed too. Mostly I feel confused. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It was an amazing evening.”

till feeling stunned, I go inside the house to discover my mom and two sisters quietly sitting in the living room, almost as if they're waiting for me. I'm sure my cheeks are flushed, but I could easily blame that on the freezing temperatures.

“So?” says Callie with raised brows. “How'd it go? Did he propose?”

“Propose?” I gasp as I remove my coat, slip off my shoes, and collapse into my dad's old easy chair.

“We decided that was the only reason Ross would ask you out on Christmas Eve,” says Mom. “To pop the question.”

“Did he?” says Cammie.

“No,” I say quickly, “of course not. Like I keep telling you guys, we're just friends.” Okay, even as I say this, I'm not so sure. It does seem that something's changing.

“Hey,” says Callie, “I was peeking out the window. I saw him walk you to the house. I saw his hand on your back, the look on his face…the kiss.”

“A kiss on the forehead,” I point out.

“So you say,” says Callie, like she's a prosecuting attorney. “You looked like more than friends to me.”

I sort of nod. “Well, maybe it's changing. But the truth is, I was surprised tonight. I mean, I really never dreamed Ross Goldberg would be seriously interested in someone like me.”

“What do you mean someone like you?” protests Cammie. “You're a sweetheart, Cassie. Everyone loves you. Why wouldn't Ross fall in love with you too?”

I have to smile at my baby sister, sitting there in her pink-pig pajamas with her blond hair in two long braids, about to become a bride in a week, a doctor in a few months. “Same back at you, cutie pie.”

“Okay, we've been talking…,” says Cammie.

“Yeah, once Andrew and the boys went to bed,” adds Callie.

“And we've decided that a truce is in order,” continues Cammie. She looks at Callie now. “So?”

“So, I'm sorry about what I said in your room, Cassie.” Callie looks at me with those big blues. “It was really rotten. And Cammie was right. I was jealous of you.”

I blink. “Seriously? You were jealous of me?”

Callie nods with tears brimming in her eyes. “Yes. I was thinking of how you have your freedom. You're dating a cool guy. You're wearing cool shoes. It's like I wanted your life.”

“No way,” I say. “What about your life? You're married to a great guy. Have two gorgeous sons—”

“Sons who run me ragged,” she spurts. “Sons who never stop moving from the minute they pop out of bed in the morning until they finally collapse at night. And then I want to collapse too. Andrew and I don't even have sex anymore—not without scheduling it. And he's so busy with work, and I'm so tired, and—and— I'm pregnant again!” Then she bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands.

Mom scoots closer to her, pats her back, and says, “It'll be okay, sweetie.”

“Congratulations,” says Cammie.

Callie looks up with watery eyes. “I don't want to have another baby.”

“You're just worn out,” I tell her. “You've probably worked way too hard on this wedding, and you're chasing the twins all the time. You need a break, Callie.”

She nods with a chin that's still quivering. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And Im sorry too,” I say to her. “I didn't realize things were hard for you. I mean, I'm usually jealous of you. You seem to have it all, Callie. You're so together.” Its just an act.

“Well, you're good at it.” Then I look at Mom. “Okay, if it's time for apologies, I guess I owe you one too.”

She waves her hand at me. “It's okay. I think I had that coming.”

“But the truth is, I've been jealous of you, Mom.”

She laughs. “Well, that's just crazy.”

“But its true. From the moment I came home, I've been jealous. And, to be honest, sort of mad too. I wanted you to be the old you, and I know that's not fair.”

“I haven't been much of a mom, have I?”

I shrug. “Maybe it was time for me to grow up.”

“Well, if confessions are in order,” she says, “I've been jealous of all of you.”

“What?” says Callie.

Mom points at her oldest daughter. “Jealous of you for being such a babe.” She shakes her head. “The sad thing is that I used to look like you.”

“You still do,” says Callie. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Okay, maybe an older version of you.” Then she points at Cammie. “And, little one, I've been jealous of you.”

Cammie looks shocked. “Why?”

“Because you've been so dedicated to your education. Goodness gracious, my girl, you're about to become a doctor. Not only that, but you're a good Christian who plans to live her life for others.” Mom shakes her head. “I guess I'm as proud as I am jealous.”

“Thanks.” Cammie grins.

“And you.” Mom points at me now. “I've been terribly jealous of you lately.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, thinking this is going too far.

“It's true. You have managed to hook the most eligible bachelor in town.”

“I haven't hooked—”

“Oh yes you have, Cassie. I'm sure you have.”

“But you told me you weren't interested.”

“Of course I told you that. But only because he'd already told me that he wasn't interested in me. I was just a friend to him, someone to ward off the loneliness. Then my daughter comes in and steals the show.”

Okay, this makes me laugh. “You mean I stole the show by doing things like splitting open the seat of my pants at the Halloween party—”

“What?” demands Callie.

So I tell them the story. I also tell them about some of my other embarrassing moments. Soon we are all laughing sp hard that we're crying. Better yet, we're all friends again—and family.

“You know,” says Callie as she wipes her eyes, “Andrew was just saying how the Cantrell women must have really great genes.”

“Yes, Mom's jeans are Juicy,” I tease.

“What?” Cammie looks slightly shocked.

“It's a designer brand,” explains Callie. “Juicy Couture. And she looks great in them, by the way. But I'm talking about genetic genes. Andrew was saying that we must have good genes, and it got me thinking about Nana Merritt.”

“I can barely remember her,” says Cammie.

“That's because you were only three when she died,” says Mom.

“How old was Nana?” I ask.

“Fifty-five,” says Mom sadly.

“Fifty-five?” I echo.

Mom nods. “Yes. And I suppose that has something to do with my attempt to regain my youth. That and being dumped by your father for a younger, trendier version.”

“Nana died from breast cancer, didn't she?” says Callie suddenly.

“Yes. And I had a little scare myself about a year ago.”

“You never told us,” I say.

“Because it turned out to be benign. But it was my wake-up call. I decided that I was going to take control. And if I only had a year left to live, I was going to have fun doing it.”

“But you're okay, aren't you, Mom?” Cammie looks really concerned.

“Yes, I'm fine. And I'm going in for regular checkups.”

“Good.”

“Uh, speaking of Dad…,” Callie says slowly.

“Were we speaking of him?” asks Mom in a blase tone.

“Well, you sort of mentioned him,” says Callie. She glances at Cammie. “Why don't you handle this?”