when and where to deliver that cake,” Kennedy called out to Glenda.
Mitzi draped an arm around Tabby’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Tabby wiped the tears away and grinned at her sister. “How’s that for a performance?”
“That was standing-ovation material,” Dixie giggled. “Who was that?”
“The sorry sucker who hurt our Jody,” Tabby said.
“Then the reviews for your acting skills will be out of this world. I’ll share my drink with you,” Dixie said.
It started as a hardly audible giggle, but soon Jody was guffawing and wiping at her own tears with a paper napkin. “That was incredible,” she finally said between hiccups.
“You are welcome.” Tabby curtsied. “Now let’s get into that chicken salad. Acting always makes me hungry.”
Dixie set her two cups on the table. “She’s not as pretty as you, Jody.”
“Thank you for that.” Jody set about making five sandwiches.
Mitzi unloaded two cups and opened a bag of chips. “Did you two take acting classes?”
“Nope, we’ve just put on shows for each other and for Daddy since we were little girls,” Dixie answered. “Tabby can cry on demand. I can’t, so I’m glad she was the one who knew who that sorry son of a gun was.”
“Oh, honey, she did an amazing job. I just wish I’d have known what you were going to do. I’d have filmed it so I could watch it over and over,” Jody said.
Paula held up her camera. “You are welcome.”
“I’ve got the best friends in the whole world,” Jody said past the lump in her throat.
Mitzi’s stomach clenched as she and Tabby pushed through the double doors into the room where the models and their assistants would get ready for the show that evening. So this was the maternal instinct that people talked about. Anxiety and pride all rolled into one big ball.
A lady in a blue vest took a look at their lanyards and ushered them back to a table with a card that said “The Perfect Dress.”
“You can set up right here. You’ll be in the first fourth of the models in alphabetical order.” She pointed toward the end of the room. “Your number is on the card on your table.”
Mitzi’s mother had used a camera to snap pictures of her at every school event and function, no matter what she was involved in. Now Mitzi was doing the same, only with a phone, as she took the first photograph of Tabby in her cute little white capris and shirt. “Before and after to send to your dad,” she explained.
“Did Paula send that video to him, too?” Tabby opened her tote bag, set up a small, lighted three-way mirror, and laid out a whole array of makeup.
“Yep.” Mitzi pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.
“Good.” Tabby leaned forward and started with a few dots of liquid makeup on her face that she brushed outward. “He’s going to tell me that it wasn’t a nice thing to do but that I did it for a good reason.”
“That’s what I’d tell you.” Mitzi propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.
“I really do wish you’d been older or Daddy would’ve been younger so he would have noticed you in high school. He whistles a lot now. Why don’t you ask him out on a real date? Not just a lake date.” She applied eyeliner to her left eye.
“Men should ask women,” Mitzi answered.
With one eye looking fabulous and the other not even touched, Tabby turned toward Mitzi. “This is the modern world. When I date, I’m going to ask a guy out. Daddy is kind of gun-shy when it comes to askin’ women. And we haven’t helped very much. We kind of sabotaged the first lady he got serious about because we were afraid he’d like her more than us. Then the next one was downright awful. But we like you. We promise to be nice if you’ll ask him out. We’ll even dress him up.”
Mitzi snapped a picture of her, then sent it to Graham. “He’ll get a kick out of seeing you getting ready.”
Tabby went back to her makeup. “You’re not going to talk about dating him, are you?”
“Don’t think so,” Mitzi answered as she sent the pictures to Graham.
She got a text back immediately: I’m jealous. Wish I was there.
She sent back a smiley face and kept snapping pictures as the process went on. The lady in the vest came by and said, “Fifteen minutes and it will be your turn.”