A Bone to Pick Page 0,46

I'd worn jeans to Amina's first, runaway wedding.

That had been the most useful bridesmaid's outfit of all. Now that I had worked myself into an absolutely great mood, what with thinking of Phillip and reviewing my history as a bridesmaid, I decided I'd better get myself in gear and go do things.

What did I need to do besides go by Great Day?

I had to go check on Madeleine and the kittens. I had to go by Mother's office; she'd asked me to on the message left on my machine, and I hadn't done it yet. I felt an urge to go check on the skull, but I decided I could be pretty sure it hadn't gone anywhere.

"Stupid," I muttered at my mirror as I braided my hair. I slapped on a little makeup and pulled on my oldest jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. I might have to go by Mother's office, but I wasn't going to look like a junior executive. All her salespeople were sure I would go to work for Mother someday, completely disrupting their food chain. Actually, showing houses seemed like an attractive way to pass the time, and now that I had my own money - almost - I really might think about looking into it seriously.

But of course I didn't have to work for Mother. I gave the mirror a wicked grin, picturing the furor for a happy second, before I lapsed back to reality. Wrapping the band around the end of the braid to secure it, I admitted to myself that of course I would work for Mother if I did decide to take the plunge and switch jobs. But I'd miss the library, I told myself as I checked my purse to make sure I had everything. No I wouldn't, I realized suddenly. I'd miss the books. Not the job or the people.

The prospect of possibly resigning kept me entertained until I got to Great Day. Amina's father was a bookkeeper, and of course he did the books for his wife's business. He was there when I came in, the bell over the door tinkling to announce my arrival. Miss Joe Nell was using some kind of hand-held steamer to get the wrinkles out of a newly arrived dress. She was a very attractive, fair woman in her middle forties. She'd been young when she had Amina, her only daughter. Amina's younger brother was still in graduate school. Miss Joe Nell was very religious, and, when my mother and father had gotten divorced when I was a teenager, one of my many fears was that Miss Joe Nell would disapprove of the divorce so much she wouldn't let me stay with Amina anymore. But Miss Joe Nell was a loving woman and sympathetic, too; my worry had been banished quickly.

Now she put down the steamer and gave me a hug.

"I just hope Amina's doing the right thing," she whispered. "Well, I'm sure she is," I said with a confidence I was far from feeling. "I'm sure he's a good man."

"Oh, it's not him I worry about so much," Miss Joe Nell said, to my surprise.

"It's Amina."

"We just hope she's really ready to settle this time," rumbled Mr. Day. He sang bass in the church choir, had for twenty years, and would until he could sing no more.

"I hope so, too," I admitted. And we all three looked at one another rather dolefully for a long second.

"Now, what kind of dress does Amina want me to try on?" I asked briskly.

Miss Joe Nell shook herself visibly and led me over to the formal dresses. "Let's see," she said. "Her dress, like I said, is mint green, with some white beading. I have it here, she tried on several things when she was home for your mother's wedding. I thought she was just sort of dreaming and planning, but I bet she had a little idea back then that they would move the date up." The dress was beautiful. Amina would look like an American dream in it.

"So we can coordinate my dress easily," I said in an optimistic tone. "Well, I looked at what we have in your size, and I found a few things that would look lovely with this shade of green. Even if you pick a solid in a different color, your bouquet could have green ribbons that would sort of tie it together..."

And we were off and running, deep in wedding talk. I was glad I'd braided my hair