Betty looked out the window, then pushed open the door. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Not everyone can come and go like you can,” Georgia said. “These are real jobs for us.”
Betty huffed and flared her nostrils. Georgia could be such a spoilsport.
“Let her be; can’t you see she’s excited?” Doris turned to Betty. “We’re here now. How can we help?”
Betty tossed the envelope onto the Parsons table and led her friends upstairs where three skirts and three blouses, in various shades, patterns, and combinations of red, white, and blue, lay on Betty’s bed. Betty, Georgia, and Doris stood across from the patriotic fashion display.
“Are you okay?” Georgia asked.
“Why do you ask?” Betty said.
“You haven’t mentioned your date so I thought maybe it didn’t go well.”
“It was peachy.” Betty planned to keep the incident on the dunes to herself. She never wanted to think of it again.
“Peachy? That’s all? That’s not like you,” Doris said.
“Well.” Betty tapped her toes on the floor. “I’m just focusing on these outfits now, I guess.” That her friends would believe.
“They’re all pretty,” Doris said. “I hate to say this, but does it matter? You’ll look fabulous no matter what you wear.”
“Independence Day is not a holiday about fashion, you know that, right?” Georgia said in a meek voice that sounded more like an apology than a fact. “It’s about independence.”
Exactly. “Everything is about fashion. Or have you forgotten?”
Georgia laughed and slouched into the pillows. “Pardon me.” She pointed. “That one and that one.”
Betty bounced and clapped, then grabbed the navy skirt with gold buttons and the white-and-navy-striped sailor blouse with gold buttons. She showed Georgia and Doris the small red anchor embroidered on the breast pocket.
“Well, then you’re set. Red, white, and blue,” Doris said.
Betty held the blouse under her neck and the skirt at her waist as she twirled. “What about my hair?”
“Since when do you care about your hair on the Fourth of July?” Georgia said. “We’re going to serve a thousand hot dogs and hamburgers on the lawn, play games with the kids, and then watch the fireworks on the beach. Like every other year.”
Doris pushed on Georgia’s arm. “Don’t be silly. This isn’t like every other year.”
“Oh, because of him.” Georgia smiled and rolled her eyes.
Betty set about returning all the clothes to her closet. “It’s not just about Abe,” she said. “If I’m going to finally compete in Miss South Haven, I should take extra care of how I look no matter what day it is. Don’t you think?”
Doris ruffled her hair. “You’re dazzling. I’m doomed to be cute for the rest of my life. That’s if I’m lucky.”
“You’re both perfect,” Betty said. “Any fellow would be lucky to have you. I only asked because, well, don’t tell anyone, but Abe and I are going to sneak off and watch the fireworks alone.”
Georgia rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be a wet rag,” Doris said. “It’s romantic. I hope I have at least one great romance in my life; otherwise, what’s the point?”
“What’s the point? The point is to do something whether or not you have a man in your life,” Georgia said.
Doris turned to Betty and twirled her index finger by her temple.
“I like the idea of a love affair, don’t get me wrong. I just think there’s more to life,” Georgia said.
“I said romance, not affair; there’s a difference.”
Georgia smirked, but in a playful way. “How would you know?”
Doris huffed.
Betty laughed, stepped back to her closet, and rifled through the clothes. “Try this.” She thrust a white cotton eyelet sundress toward Doris. “I think it will fit you. You can wear your blue Keds and red lipstick, maybe a flag pin on the lapel. I’m sure I have one, or Nannie does.”
“You’re a doll. I’ll try it on.”
“You don’t have anything in that closet that will fit me,” Georgia said.
“You don’t need anything, and any boy who doesn’t think you’re a knockout with those legs needs new glasses.”
A flush of pink rose on Georgia’s cheeks.
“You’re blushing. You never blush.” Betty placed her hands on her hips. “Tell!”
Georgia raised her eyebrows, then she walked to the closet. She leafed through the clothes like they were pages of a book she didn’t want to read. “There is nothing to tell.”
“Oh my God! You like someone. Who is he?” Betty scoured her memory. “One of the fellas taking tennis lessons? Someone on staff? Jerry? Sol? Bob? Herman?”
Georgia turned around, her cheeks as purple as Nannie’s beet borscht, her eyes wide and shiny. “It is not one of those boys.”
Doris skipped into the room. “How do I look?”
“You look terrific,” Georgia said.
Betty tugged on Doris’s waistline. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” She held Doris’s shoulders and pivoted her toward the dresser and away from Georgia. “Borrow my red patent belt. It’ll pull you in and add a little extra flair.”
“You’re the best,” Doris said, then she glanced at her watch. “Can I pick this up later? I have to get back. I’m taking kids to the beach after lunch and I want to stop in the kitchen and grab a sandwich. You coming, Georgia?”
Just as Georgia said yes, the telephone rang. The girls ran downstairs.
“Georgia, this isn’t over! You don’t get to have a secret crush.”
Georgia tipped her head back and laughed like Betty had told the funniest joke.
The telephone rang again and Betty answered. “Hello?”
“Come see me in the office, bubbeleh. I’ll be here for another half hour.”
“Zaide, what’s wrong?”
“There’s a little hitch in your plan.”
Betty hung up the telephone, her mouth dry, and her head starting to ache. What plan? If only Betty knew to which plan Zaide was referring, she could prepare. Did she forget to do something she’d promised? Should she plan a defense for her relationship with Abe? Did someone else see Marv and Eleanor and notice Betty scampering away? Or maybe he needed help plunging toilets.
For once, that was what Betty hoped.
Minutes later, Betty leaned on the wall outside
