to work. What a transition, from working cowgirl to glamour queen. “What’s the event?”
Layla sighed. “Another one of the many fund-raisers I’m asked to attend.” She paused. “But this one is for a very good cause.”
“Why don’t you just send a donation if you don’t want to go?” Darlene carefully pinched the delicate fabric near Layla’s waist and prepared to pin it.
Layla chuckled as she tossed her hair, causing Darlene to lose her grip on the fold. “They are expecting me there . . . in person.” She shifted her weight, and Darlene wondered if she’d ever get the dress properly pinned.
After another few minutes, Darlene was finally done, and Layla walked to her bedroom. She returned with the pinned dress on a hanger. “The gala isn’t for three weeks. Can you have it done by then?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You think so? Yes or no?”
Darlene wanted to tell Layla that she wasn’t her servant, but instead she just smiled and said, “Yes, I can have it done.”
Later that evening, Darlene crawled into bed next to Brad. Her husband had his laptop in his lap and papers scattered all over the place. She’d be glad when tax season was over. She waited until he took a break before she told him about her time at Layla’s.
“She’s just . . . different. I can’t figure her out.” Darlene pumped lotion into her palm, then breathed in the aroma of lavender as she spread it up and down her arms.
“So why try so hard to be friends with her?” Brad took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d probably needed the glasses for much longer than he would admit, but when he turned forty last year, he’d finally stepped out of denial and purchased a pair.
“I’m not trying hard to be friends with her, she’s just . . .” Darlene shrugged as she smoothed the last of the lotion on her neck. “Interesting, I guess.”
Brad put his glasses back on and focused on the work in front of him. Darlene reached for a book on her nightstand and started to read, finding it difficult to stay in the story. Her mind kept drifting.
In Houston, she’d worn herself out by volunteering for too many things—Girl Scout leader, band booster sponsor, softball mom, room mother, T-ball coach, and the list went on. She’d been happy to do it, but her kids were older now and didn’t need her as much. Even though she’d been enjoying a quieter life for the past two months, an idea had been rooting around in her mind.
“I was thinking about maybe getting a part-time job.”
“What?” Brad turned to her and grimaced, a reaction she’d expected. “Why? I told you I think I’ll make partner soon, and we’ll have plenty of money to do everything you want with the house.”
“It’s not the money. I think if I was out and about, I’d meet more people in the community. The kids are older now, doing their own things, so I don’t meet their friends’ parents like before.” Darlene knew Brad was a proud man, and she’d need to tread carefully around anything to do with money. Her husband was old-fashioned in that way, believed the man should take care of the family. She gave him a playful nudge before saying, “But you have to admit—any money I make would help.”
He pulled off his glasses, leaned down, and kissed her on the mouth. “If you want to get a part-time job, you go for it. But not for the money. Do it for you. I’ll take care of us financially.”
“I know that. And it would be for me.” She thought about having play money in her pocket, not a bad perk either. Then Layla’s dress came to mind. She’d noticed earlier when she hung it in the closet that it was a Versace. Darlene couldn’t imagine purchasing a designer dress for two or three thousand dollars, and she wished more than ever that she’d never agreed to alter the gown. She and Brad led a comfortable life and had never gone without, nor had their children. But her formal attire came from a local department store, and spending anything over three hundred dollars seemed extreme. She was worried about ruining Layla’s expensive dress.
Brad closed his laptop, picked up two file folders, and gathered up some loose papers.
“Done for tonight?” She put her book on the nightstand, then edged closer to him.
Brad moved his laptop and files from the bed and took