Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,67
read Finley’s thoughts, and it seemed as if she’d mentioned the on and off charm thing to warn me. I had the distinct and rotten feeling that she was cautioning me not to take my relationship with Jude too seriously.
It was definitely time for a topic change. “How was your dad feeling when he left? Is he rested enough for the tour?”
She tossed the bags of chips into the dough. “I guess. I tried to tell him to drink more water and eat better, but he’s not really the kind of person you can tell to do stuff. I brought up to him the possibility of slowing down on the tours, and Ray, his agent, nearly had a stroke. A lot of people look at my dad as a major commodity. They don’t seem to get that he’s someone’s father and that he’s getting too old for so many concerts.”
I grabbed a spoon and helped her drop raw cookie dough onto the pan. “When will he be back?”
“Who knows.” She loaded her spoon and shoved the raw dough into her mouth. “Oh my gosh,” she mumbled with a full mouth, “that is so good.” She dug her spoon in again and stuck it in front of my mouth.
“What about the raw egg?” I asked, and wondered why I always had to be so damn practical. I pushed the dough into my mouth. It was delicious. “Salmonella be damned. It’s worth the risk.”
“Excuse me,” Finley said, “but Beverly Hills chickens do not carry bacteria.”
“That sounds plausible— if there were chickens in Beverly Hills, but I have my doubts about that.”
She motioned over to the television. “We’ve got pigs.”
“True. But most pigs wallow in mud, not on expensive, imported rugs.”
She laughed and hugged me. “I missed you, Eden. Now, while these are baking, let’s go up to see what I’m going to wear tonight. I haven’t seen Max in days, so this is going to take some major decision making.”
The cookies nearly burned while Finley laid out dress after dress and checked them against the volume of tan she had. “Certain dresses go with certain amounts of suntan. Unfortunately, I’m still in the semi-tourist mode, which means my skin and hair color are only a few shades apart.” She looked over at me. “Did you bring a dress?”
“Nah, the two I have are out of date and don’t fit great anymore. I’m fine with my shorts.”
“Nonsense.” She took my hand and led me across the stair landing to the other side of the house.
Finley threw open a door to a bedroom that was decorated heavily in pink satin. The bed was round and covered with white furry pillows. “It’s a guest room for my dad’s lady friends.” She opened a door to a deep closet filled with women’s clothes and shoes. “Sometimes they stay longer than expected, so he likes to have a wardrobe for them. Don’t worry, everything has been dry cleaned.” She searched through a line of flirty looking dresses and produced a short, flouncy sleeveless dress with a halter style top. It was made of an incredibly soft blue cotton fabric. She held it up in front of me. “This should fit, and it will go perfect with your skin. Your skin always looks tanned even without sun, lucky bum.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve worn a dress. It’s going to feel foreign.” The whole idea actually excited me, and I couldn’t wait to try it on.
Finley and I had stuffed ourselves from cookie tasting, and we had no appetite for dinner. She texted her brothers to let them know they were on their own for finding food. Jude answered that he’d be late, and I tried hard not to show my disappointment.
But on the bright side, the dress fit perfectly and I loved it. I stood in the mirror and spun around several times to make the perky skirt spin.
Finley poked her head inside my room. “Wow, can I pick or what?”
“It’s definitely the prettiest thing I’ve ever worn. I feel feminine for a change.”
She laughed. “Please, with that body, you’d be feminine in a pair of farmer’s overalls. Max is on his way, and Cole’s in the shower. Not sure about Jude, but I’m sure he’ll saunter in sooner or later. He’s going to fall over dead when he sees you.”
For the first half of the evening I was a fifth wheel in my awesome little party dress. I’d busied myself devouring the cookies, and eventually, the