Feels Like Falling - Kristy Woodson Harvey Page 0,91

jewelry box on her vanity and pressed a pair of pearl earrings into my palm. “These are my grandmother’s,” she said, “and they are lucky. I always wear them when I feel like I need some extra strength.”

“But you have that big meeting with Glitter,” I had protested.

Gray shook her head. “That’s just a client, Diana. This is your life.”

It had made me feel so warm inside, so strong. I had been a rock for Gray these past few months. Now I knew she was a rock for me too.

She had also cleaned out her closet and insisted that I take everything that fit. Some of the clothes still had the tags on them. “You could sell these,” I protested.

“I could,” she said. “But I will not let you see Frank’s mother for the first time in twenty-two years wearing jean shorts and a T-shirt.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. I knew she was right, and I had been stressing about using part of my paycheck to buy something new. I needed that money to stock up on those little red-and-white-checked baskets I had dreamed of. Gray and I agreed on a pink dress that was fitted but not tight. It was elegant. And, better yet, it was free. I felt like the princess my momma always told me I would be.

Now that the day was here, I wasn’t feeling quite so confident.

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” I said as I slid Gray’s pearl through my ear and pushed the post onto the back.

Frank laughed. “Come on, Di. It won’t be so bad.”

I looked at him like he was totally nuts. “Not so bad? You sure about that?” Trailer trash orphan ran through my mind again. Yeah, it could be that damn bad, and Frank knew it as well as I did.

I felt my stomach churn. I leaned back on the bed and pulled on my other shoe. I put the back of my hand to my forehead. No fever, just nerves. “You know, Frank, I don’t feel so great,” I said.

He put his arm around me, pulled me close, and kissed my cheek. “Look,” he said, “I’ve talked to her. I’ve told her that this is it. You’re it. If she can’t get along with you, then she won’t have me.”

I nodded and swallowed, my tongue feeling unusually thick in my mouth. “Okay,” I whispered, unconvinced.

As I climbed in the front seat of his T-bird, a wave of nausea passed over me again.

I closed my eyes. “Frank,” I said. “I’m serious. I really don’t feel good.”

He squeezed my hand. “Babe, it’s just my mom. She’s sixty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake. She’s not that scary anymore.”

“Women get scarier as they get older,” I said under my breath. Whatever. I had let her take Frank away from me once. I wouldn’t do it again.

We pulled into the parking lot of the club, my head spinning. Get it together, I told myself.

Frank stepped out of the car, and I took a deep breath, trying to swallow away that queasy feeling. I took a sip of the water in my cup holder and scooted out of the T-bird as ladylike as I could muster in that pink dress that was too narrow at the bottom to really move right.

It was a gorgeous day, but the hot sun turned my stomach even more. I leaned over for a second, my hands on the car.

“Babe? You really don’t feel good, do you?”

I shook my head. Then it hit me. Wagner’s throw-up virus. Hadn’t been sick in fifteen years, and today of all days… I was getting ready to tell Frank I needed to go home when I heard, “Yoo-hoo, Frank!” and saw his mother, wearing a pale-blue suit. I pinned on a fake smile.

“Well, hello, Diana,” she said as we made our way down the stone path toward the dining patio. I knew already I couldn’t eat anything. We were only a few steps away from the door, thank the Lord. Because, as I started to say hello to Frank’s mom, I felt bile finally rise in the back of my throat. I beelined through the door and into the bathroom, thankful that I had spent quite a bit of time here this summer and had the place pretty well mapped out.

I wanted to be embarrassed and sad that I had ruined this day, but I felt so horrible that I couldn’t be. Frank was waiting outside the door; mercifully, his mother