out and starts to type. Then, she snickers.
“Dottie was running late with the cake, so they texted Aunt Doreen to tell her to stall,” she explains.
“Oh my, she is sweating like a groom the night before the wedding. The woman is going to have a heart attack before we even make it to her party. And nice move, pointing out Jefferson’s truck. She went completely white.”
Elle giggles. “I know. I’m having so much fun with this.”
The door opens, and Doreen comes out, carrying a wrapped box. Who knows what she found to wrap up at the last minute?
Once she settles back in, we are off again.
We swing by Stoney Ridge and pick up my momma, and then we finally make it to the party venue. We pile out of the car, and Doreen grabs her wrapped gift and falls into line behind us.
As we approach the front of the building, Elle slows and tries her best to get her aunt to move out in front of her, so she can walk through the door first, but Doreen keeps slowing down even further. It’s comical. At this rate, it’s going to take us another thirty minutes just to make it in from the car to the door.
Elle finally gives up and trots up the steps with Momma, Doreen, and me in tow.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place, Aunt Doreen? It looks awfully dark in there,” Elle asks, and I try not to laugh.
Doreen turns her panicked eyes to me. “I’m positive. It must just be dark curtains,” she mumbles, and I can see the beads of nervous sweat at her brow.
I give her a reassuring wink, and as soon as Elle reaches for the door, I hear the bubble of excitement escape Doreen’s throat as she braces for everyone to jump out and yell, Surprise, at Elle.
Instead, the room stays dark and quiet.
“Hello?” Elle says, walking deeper inside. “No one is here,” she calls back over her shoulder.
Doreen walks up, confused, and peers into the door.
“What’s … hello!” she says, and her voice cracks.
Two seconds later, the lights flicker on.
Elle turns quickly on her heels among everyone, and we all shout, “Gotcha, Doe!”
She stumbles back a step into me, and I whisper, “Happy birthday, Aunt Doreen.”
She looks at me in shock and then takes everyone in. The girls are all dressed in poodle skirts and bobby socks, and the guys are in everything from letterman sweaters to leather jackets and white tees. The jukebox in the corner comes to life and starts to play an Elvis Presley song as Emmett comes out, dressed in a greaser outfit with his hair slicked back.
He takes her hand. “Welcome to your sock hop, sweetheart,” he says on a grin.
Then, he leads her inside.
Bellamy
Doreen is in tears the entire time we are in the restroom, getting into our outfits.
“You had no clue?” Elle asks as she pulls the crinoline up under her skirt.
“No! I thought I was distracting you—and doing a horrible job of it.” She sniffles.
“I can’t believe we were able to get one over on you. You’re the most observant, all-knowing person I know,” I tell her.
“You guys came up with the perfect ruse.”
“That was all Bellamy,” Elle admits.
“Hey, did anyone see Sonia out there?” I ask as I swipe on some red lipstick.
“Yes, I saw her and Ricky at a table up front. She said she’d be in here in a minute, and she wants you and me to wait for her,” Elle says.
“Well, girls, how do I look?” Doreen turns in front of the full-length mirror.
Her short hair is spiked up a little, and she has a sheer handkerchief at her neck tied into a bow. Her short-sleeved cream sweater with a cursive L, for Lancaster, embroidered across the left breast, is tucked into her poodle skirt, and she has on cream socks and a pair of black-and-white saddle shoes.
“Like a classic fox,” I coo.
“Oh,” she says and waves away my comment as she blushes.
“Go on, birthday girl. Go grab your man and get him to twirl you around the dance floor,” Elle encourages.
She wipes under her eyes one more time before she takes off.
We are just sliding on our shoes when Sonia comes in with a large black bag.
“I have gifts,” she squeals.
She sets the bag at our feet and starts to pull the contents out.
There are three shiny pink jackets with Pink Ladies on the back.
“No, you didn’t,” I say as I take one.
“I sure did.”
Grease and