Dinner at the Hinton’s was a formal affair, far too formal for Emily, who sat fidgeting in her seat at the table.  Nothing about the setting was causing her discomfort.  It was a warm and inviting setting in the back half of a large room.  The edge of an oval rug marked the transition to dinning area, leaving the front for use as the parlor.

In the parlor, the fireplace was still red brick, topped by an oak mantle.  On it sat an old parlor clock surrounded by family photos.  An oval mirror in a gilded frame hung above it on the wall.

Cream-colored curtains with valances and sashes clothed the two windows.  On the walls, lovely light blue wallpaper rose from the floor to the polished wood trim and from there to the ceiling.

Seating in the parlor was a flowery couch and matching love seat.  Lamps with soft lights suitable for reading were place on nearby tables.  The pictures hanging from the walls were both oils and watercolors of landscapes and country scenes.  The oval rug left spaces for the hardwood floor to show its magnificent beauty.  A spinet piano sat by one wall and a cabinet radio stood by a window.

In the middle of the dining area was a walnut table where Emily sat fidgeting.  It had removable leaves and grew when company came to dine.  The rest of the time, they were stored in a closet so the family could sit intimately.  An imported China hutch stood in one corner.  It had black lacquered sides with bold red drawers and gold handles.  It was situated in a corner to hide the fact that one Thanksgiving Emily and Howie scratched their initials into its side with a carving knife.  Then they dated it, immortalizing the day of their infamy.

Emily slid down in her chair trying to look inconspicuous.

The table was elegantly set, with china plates, silver utensils, and crystal goblets to set the atmosphere for the dinner.  Cloth napkins threaded through silver rings were laid by each plate.  And on the plates were generous helpings of tuna casserole.

Breakfast at the Hintons was casual and usually eaten in the kitchen.  But dinner was special.  This was family time.  Ira was still wearing his coat and tie, and Easter had on a lovely cotton dress.  Emily, however, was dressed in the jeans and white shirt she wore to play with Howie.  Both had noticeable spots of dirt.  She went to her room intending to change.  But a new Nancy Drew novel caught her attention and, before she realized it, her mother was calling her to dinner.  She only had time to wash her face and hands.  She hoped her parents would not notice.  She squirmed in her seat, as her father looked her up and down.

The Hintons never ate dinner in front of their television.  Emily wished they would.  She tried to get invited to dinner at the Throckmortons whenever wrestling was on.  The Hinton TV was upstairs in a spare bedroom.  Ira and Easter still preferred listening to news and music on the radio, while Emily’s TV viewing was usually restricted to one hour a day, after her homework was done.

Mrs. Hinton always cooked meals from scratch; tuna casserole was a family favorite.   As they ate, the family discussed the events of the day, including how Emily was doing in school.  Emily did not always enjoy the dinner hour.

With her father at one end of the table, and her mother at the other, Emily was always in the middle.  The table, without leaves, was just the right distance for questions and answers, much to Emily’s discomfort.

“How was your day, Mrs. Hinton?” asked Ira formally, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

 “Let me see, Mr. Hinton.”  Easter smiled, as she returned his regard.  “Emily and I went shopping this afternoon.  But before I spent your money, I earned it.  I cleaned.  I baked.  I cooked.  I gave a piano lesson.  Let’s see, what else?  Oh, and I visited Louise Throckmorton this morning.”

“Your hair looks different…straighter.  Didn’t you curl it last night?” Ira asked.

“Yes…well…unexpectedly…it got washed today.”

“Oh?”

Emily secretly tossed a piece of tuna under the table to Snowball who had just slipped in unnoticed.

“And I washed your white shirts and hung them on the line,” Easter continued.

“So that’s were they are!” Mr. Hinton exclaimed, slapping the table so hard that a goblet bounced.

“Where what are?” asked Easter, frowning at the glass.

Emily knew what he was referring to, but she just stared at her plate.  Innocently she reached out and moved a single pea away from the noodles with her fork.  Covertly, she glanced at her father through her thick eyelashes.

“My white shirts, Mrs. Hinton,” Mr. Hinton replied.  “They are missing.  And I thought I had a brand new one - still wrapped.”

“Oh.”  Easter glanced at Emily.  Amused, she waited to see where this was headed.

Emily hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her trying to hide the shirt she was wearing.  “Did anything interesting happen at work today, Daddy?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.  She flashed him her most winning smile.

But he was not letting her off that easy.  “Do you know why it’s a good thing a judge wears robes when he sits on the bench, Emily?” he asked.

Emily was puzzled.  “No, why?”

“So no one knows when he shows up for work with just an undershirt and a tie on,” he replied.

Emily giggled.  “Daddy, you didn’t.  Did you?”

“I did worse,” he answered.  “Since I had no shirt, I decided not to wear trousers either.”

“Ira!” Mrs. Hinton warned him that he was going too far.

“I wore shorts instead,” he added, to appease her.  “There I sat under the robes, wearing an undershirt and shorts, with my socks and garters on.”

“Oh Ira,” Easter chuckled.  “You don’t wear garters.”

“I did today,” he insisted.  “I had lunch with the Ladies Legal Aid Society and, since I couldn’t wear my robes to lunch, I didn’t want to appear too informal.”

Emily snorted.  Since she was drinking milk at the time, she started to choke.

Her mother handed her a napkin, while patting her on the back.   “How was school today, dear?” she asked, taking pity and changing the subject.

“I got an “A” on my English essay.  It was on Emily Dickinson, the poet,” Emily answered when she could.  She knew that would please her parents.

“That is wonderful!”

Then she went on to more important stuff.  “We have a big game against Cornville tomorrow.  I am starting at shortstop, but Coach Buggese has me batting ninth in the line up.”  It bothered her that Howie, who was pitching, was batting eight, one spot in front of her.

“That is nice, sweetheart,” Mr. Hinton joined in, “And how is your math doing?”  Being an experienced judge, he got right to the heart of the matter.

“Ugh!” said Emily. “Math, I hate it!”

“But you are working hard on it, aren’t you?” her mother asked.

“Yes, Mother,” Emily replied, after swallowing a mouthful of casserole.  “But I don’t know why.  Everybody knows women don’t need math.”

“I suppose you don’t if you are going to play professional baseball,” Mr. Hinton replied.  “But,” he asked, “who will you get to count all your money?”

“Oh Daddy,” Emily giggled again.  “I know how to count money.  I almost have enough saved for new baseball cleats.”

“I wish you were buying dresses instead.  Then I could have my shirts back.”

Emily and Easter glanced at each other.  They had something to tell him.

But first Emily insisted, “Daddy, you know I only wear your old ones.”

Mr. Hinton just stared at her in disbelief.

Emily hedged, “I don’t wear your brand new ones.”

Mr. Hinton continued to stare.

Emily looked down at her plate, toying with the pea.  “Okay, one new one, Daddy.  I wore one brand new shirt.  You should be glad.  I got all the pins out of it.  You never find them all and you yell when they stick you.  And…I’ll wash it!  I’ll even put starch on it for you.”

Ira leaned back.  “Okay then.  You saved me from getting stuck and you will starch it.  I am so glad I have you to look after me.”  He smiled at her mother, then looked back at Emily.  “Maybe you should break in my socks, also.”  That thought struck him, and he leaned forward.  “You’re not wearing my socks, are you?”

Emily giggled. “No, Daddy, but about dresses…”  She looked at her mother and Easter nodded for her to continue.   “There was a blue one today at the dress shop where Meg Throckmorton works.  Mom and I went there after school.  It was so pretty!  Mom and Meg both loved it....”

“Why do I have the feeling that if I looked I would find a blue dress in Emily’s closet?”  Ira looked at Easter.

“We’ve been caught, Emily,” she sighed.  “We might as well confess, or he’ll get it out of us in cross-examination.”

Emily giggled again.

Easter said to her husband, “After school, Emily and I went the shop were Meg Throckmorton works.  And we bought her a new dress.”

“If it will keep Emily from stealing my clothes, I am glad.  Tell me about it.”

“I do not steal your clothes.  Borrowing is not the same as…” Emily retorted.

“We had a good time,” interrupted her mom.  “Didn’t we, Emily?”

Emily nodded in agreement; still she shot her father an indignant look.

*          *          *

At first Emily hesitated.  She and Howie where scheduled to practice for the game tomorrow against Cornville.  Cornville was their most a hated rival, another small school surrounded by farm lands.  But her mother promised they would have time to practice before dinner.  To be sure, she had her mother meet her at school.  Emily waited for her in front of the bungalow where her math class was held.  That was her and Howie’s last class of the day.  And they drove to the crossroads.

The dress shop where Meg worked was part of the old relay station at the crossroads.  It was over a hundred years old.  When the stagecoaches and freight wagons stopped running, the station was converted into a grocery store with a soda fountain owned by Sam Takahasi.  Many people thought of the Takahasi’s as the first Japanese family to live in Binnington, but really they were from Texas and spoke with a soft southern drawl.  Sam fought in Italy during the war, where he was decorated.  Thelma, his daughter, was one of Emily’s best friends.  Thelma was going to meet her at the shop, to help her with her selection.

The dress shop was called simple “The Stable”, because it was where the horses had been kept.  The stalls were converted into changing rooms.  Jokes about nags still using them were met with frosty looks.  Male shoppers to the store never made that mistake twice.

With the exception of the loft and a side room, the shop was one large open space.  Storage was kept above in what used to be the hayloft.  Bales of hay were still stacked there with planks between them to create shelves where stock was stored.  This added to the ambiance of the store.  As a concession to the clerks, who were all female, the old rough ladder that used to lead up there was replaced by a staircase.  For lighting, electrical wires with strung from rafter to rafter with bare bulbs hanging down.  A pot bellied stove, once needed to warm the stable hands, still sat in the middle of the place.  Central heating eliminated its need as a heater.  So it was shined and polished.  Now costume jewelry hung from its pipes and flowed from its belly.

The side room used to be the tack room where the harnesses and leather for horses were kept.  Now it contained the more personal of women’s apparel (and still some leather).  The wooden sign above the door still read “Tack Room” in its faded letters.  Two chairs were place outside so male companions did not have to go in there.  Hunting and fishing magazines were kept in a box between them.

As well as dresses, The Stable also sold silk bedspreads design to go with some of the creations sold in the Tack Room.  The one women’s apparel it did not sell was shoes.  This was for safety reasons.  The original floorboards were still there.  And they were full of knots, cracks, and warps.  These obstacles are natural enemies to women’s footwear.

Most of the clerks and experienced shoppers wore sturdy shoes when in the shop.  Only the very brave wore open-toed shoes like Meg was wearing.  But she was familiar with the shop and felt sure that nothing would hurt her feet that day.  Plus, she had a new pedicure she wanted to show it off.

Wooden blocks shaped like hi-heel shoes were nailed to the floor in front of the full-length mirrors.  This allowed the shoppers to stand on them to check hemlines and see what the dresses would look like when worn with heels.

*          *          *

“I thought a new dress for Emily to wear to Meg’s wedding would be nice,” Mrs. Hinton told her husband.  “I was thinking of something in a nice brown or green.  Those colors bring out the beauty of her hazel eyes.”

Emily bit her bottom lip and shoved the pea hard with her fork.  Drab browns and greens were not likely to catch Howie’s attention.  During math that day, while the teacher was discussing some problem he was having with train schedules, Thelma showed her an article in a magazine from her father’s store.  It claimed people’s favorite colors matched their personalities.  It said the best way to attract a person was to wear a color he liked.  Thelma promised to bring it to the shop and help Emily with her selection.

*          *          *

Meg greeted Emily and her mom as they entered the shop.  For the umpteenth time, Emily adored her fashion model looks and her pageboy haircut.  And she was so fashionable, with her yellow frilly blouse and green gypsy skirt.  The light from the bare bulbs sparkled on her earrings and bracelets.  Emily looked her own plain nails and wished for the bright red polish Meg wore

When Meg found that they were there to buy Emily a new dress, she suggested bold colors like lemon yellow or candy apple red.  Emily wasn’t sure about them.  She wanted to attract Howie, not make him hungry.  Thelma should be there soon with the magazine.

She was glad no one mentioned pink.   Howie had red hair.  If she wore pink, she could not stand next to him because they would clash!  And she would not care to be admired from across the room.  On her wedding day, she would wear white.  Then it would be okay to stand close to Howie, because white went with everything, including Howie.

 Ah, weddings!  She asked what Meg was wearing at her wedding.

“You know the old saying,” Meg gushed.  “The bride should wear something old, something new; something borrowed, and something blue.”

“You’re not wearing a blue wedding dress, are you?” Emily asked.  She was worried.  If wedding dresses could be colored, someone might try to put her in a pink one!  She would hate to have a wedding where the groom had to stand on the other side of the chapel because he clashed.  Would someone have to bring the ring over to her?

“No!” replied Meg.  “This blue won’t show.”  She glanced around making sure no male shoppers were near by.  “I will be wearing the blue under my dress.  It’s a garter!” she whispered.  Easter chuckled and Emily looked over at the Tack Room, speculatively.  Could she?  No!  She could figure out no decent way of letting Howie see a garter.  She blushed at the thought.

Meg was blushing too, but she continued, “For something new, I bought a lovely veil of Spanish Lace, and a high comb to hold it off my hair.”

  “And for something borrowed - and old, too - I am wearing my Grandmother Ida’s wedding dress.  Of course I had to put a new skirt on it, because my grandmother is shorter than I am.  And I added a sash at the waist, and tighter material at the top because…well…Grandma Ida and I are different in other areas, as well.”

“Let’s see,” Meg checked off on her fingers.  “The veil is new, the skirt is new, the waist is new, and the top is new.”  She started to look worried, then she brightened.  “The sleeves are old!  I had to change the cuffs to make them longer, but the sleeves are old.”  She sighed in relief.  “Besides, Grandma Ida will be there.  And she’s definitely old.”

*          *          *

“Meg waited on us.  She told us about her lovely wedding dress.  And how happy she was that her Grandmother was attending,” Mrs. Hinton told her husband.

“You did not buy Emily a wedding dress, did you?  There is no need to marry her off just to protect my shirts.  Although the house would be quieter,” he mused.

“Daddy!”

“No?  Then I’ll just have to buy more shirts.  Wait, you said this dress was blue.  Even I know wedding dresses are white.  But I thought you were looking for something in brown or green.  What happened?  Wasn’t there a good selection?”

 “Yes!  The shop had a delightful selection to choose from,” Easter replied.

*          *          *

While waiting for Thelma, Emily wandered over to where some dresses of a more mature nature were hanging.  She left her mother and Meg to haggle in the junior miss section.  She snorted as she heard them discussing the merits of ruffles and frills.  She pulled an interesting item off a rack and held it up in front of her.

“Why that is a stunningly lovely dress, Emily.  It looks so sophisticated!  And it will surely get you noticed!” came a soft southern drawl.

Emily looked up and grinned.  It was Thelma.  Just in time.  And she had the magazine tucked under her arm.

“Hi, Thelma.  It’s gorgeous isn’t it?  Do you think this will impress How…er…someone?

“Honey, if it doesn’t impress…HOWIE…then nothing will.” Thelma replied.

Emily blushed.  They both giggled.

“Let’s see how impressive this dress can be,” Thelma said.  She took hold of the bottom while Emily held the top, and they spread it out between them.  It was a sleek, black velvet dress, soft to the touch. 

“The magazine says men who like black are loners who are intense and angry.

“Hmm.”  Howie wasn’t a loner.  He had plenty of friends.  But he was intense.  And he did get mad at her sometimes - usually over nothing - like getting hit by a baseball.  If he was not a loner, but was intense and sometimes got angry, did that mean he liked gray?  She noticed a slit on one side and fingered it.  “Do you think this is to make it easier to get into?” she asked.  “It does look like it might be tight.”

“It sure is a long slit,” Thelma responded.  “But I don’t see any snaps or buttons to close it after the dress is on.” 

“Maybe you are supposed to use safety pins,” Emily suggested.  “Or I suppose a zipper could be added.”  The slit was very long.  She could wear a garter under this dress and Howie would be sure to see it.  She blushed again.

“Hold it up against you,” Thelma suggested.

When she did, they saw the top.

“This is obviously a shoddily made dress,” Emily said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Thelma.

  “Not only did they forget to close the slit, but they left the buttons off the top.  See how low this neckline would be, if you couldn’t button it.”

 “Maybe you are supposed to use safety pins there, too,” Thelma suggested.  She looked inside the dress to see if any pins were hidden there.

“"That is a lot of safety pins,” Emily said.  “Maybe it’s just an inexpensive dress.”  She looked at the price tag and almost dropped it.  “Look at the price!” she whispered.

“Put it back - carefully,” Thelma responded.

Emily put it back on the rack.  She could not believe the nerve of someone, charging that price, then leaving the fasteners off.  She wondered if Meg knew.

“It was pretty though,” Thelma allowed, wistfully.

“Howie might be intense, but I don’t think he likes black…or gray,” Emily said.  “And I want to buy a dress that is finished.  Imagine the trouble if you had to add zippers and buttons to every dress you bought before you could wear it.”

Thelma shuddered and started looking through the rack for another stunning dress.

 Anyway the black velvet material reminded Emily of the pictures hanging in Mrs. Throckmorton’s parlor.  And she didn’t want Howie thinking of his mother whenever he looked at her.

Over in the junior miss section, Meg and her mother were debating the merits of bows.  Easter wondered, “Do you think she’s too old for those?” when Meg showed her a green dress covered with bows.

Thelma found another enticing dress and pulled from the rack.  “Look,” she said worshipfully.  It was fire engine red.   “What do you think?” asked Thelma.  “This color would stop traffic!”

It certainly was brilliant.  Even Howie would notice it.  And red went with his hair.  She held it up against her.  “Perfect!  It comes just to my knees.  But this is odd,” she added, looking at the size on the tag.  “According to the tag, this dress is made for a taller woman.”

“That can’t be right,” said Thelma.  “On a woman like that, the dress would only come to here.  She motioned to a spot about mid-thigh.  Maybe it’s discounted because it is mislabeled.”

“What does the magazine say about red?”

Thelma looked up red in the magazine.  “It says a man who likes red is intense.”

That sounded promising; they had already decided Howie was intense.

Thelma continued, “And also exciting and passionate!”  They giggled. 

But Emily admitted honestly, “The last part doesn’t sound like Howie.”

“Honey, you won’t know that ‘til he sees you in this dress,” Thelma replied.  They giggled again.  “Go show it to your mother,” she urged.

Thelma continued looking through the racks, while Emily took the dress over to show her mother and Meg.

Her mother was speechless

Meg’s eyes grew wide as saucers.  She reached out and took the dress from Emily, holding it by its straps and turning it around, inspecting it from all sides.  Her eyes grew rounder.  “She’s not this old!” she said at last.

“Emily,” her mother finally gasped.  “You cannot wear a dress…with…tiny straps like that.”

Oh?  She hadn’t noticed the straps.  They certainly tiny, thin as spaghetti.  Maybe it was an Italian dress and the sizing got mixed up in the translation.

“The color is nice…” Emily started to say.

But her mother pointed her back to the rack. 

Disappointed, Emily returned it to its place.  She turned the tag over and checked the price.  She could not understand it, with all the money saved on material.  And it wasn’t even good material.  The dress felt like leather.

Thelma was sympathetic.  “Maybe her personality doesn’t like that color,” she suggested.  “Look at this white one,” she said, holding out another dress.  “The magazine says a person who likes white is clinical, simple, and private.  You have to admit, clinical does sound like Howie!”

Emily snorted.  That was an understatement!  But she had to admit the dress was striking.  Emily checked to see if it had tiny straps.  No!  Her mother couldn’t complain about the straps, because there weren’t any.  So how did it stay up?  Maybe a blouse was supposed to be worn under it, then you could pin it to hold it in place.  It came to her knees, but again it was sized wrong.  She was learning not to look at the price tag.

She turned it over and saw the bodice.  She had been so busy checking for straps that she had not noticed the feathers hanging from the front.

“What do you suppose these are?” Thelma asked, fingering them.

“They look like chicken feathers,” Emily replied, uncertain.  That did not seem very sophisticated.  Could they be there to fill in for the missing material up on top? 

 “The tag says here that it is a French feathered boa,” Thelma read.  “Maybe boa is French for chicken.”

“That would make it a foreign dress,” Emily said.  “And the French are so sophisticated!  But no, I don’t think this will do.”  She put it back on the rack.  She did not like the idea of Howie staring at her front all night long trying to figure out what kind of a bird she was wearing.  She was certain he wouldn’t believe her, when she told him it was a French chicken.

 “Read me some other colors,” she said.  “Let’s see if Howie is one of them.”

“The next color is yellow.  Is he hopeful, imaginative, and happy?”

Together they shook their heads.

“A person who likes brown is reliable, steady, and dependable.”

“Possibly,” Emily responded, although that sounded more like her father.

“Purple is arrogant!”

“He better not be, if he knows what’s good for him!”

“Green is jealous, vigorous, and healthy.”

Again they giggled.  “I only wish,” said Emily

“Blue is scientific, steady, and marriageable.”

Together they sighed.

“That sounds the most like him.”  Thelma said.

“Brown was close, too,” Emily added.

Thelma checked her watch.  “I have to go.  My father needs help at the fountain.  Good luck!  She handed the magazine to Emily.  “You can give this back to me tomorrow in math.  Whichever dress you pick, I hope Howie…I mean…someone…really likes it.”

 “Emily,” her mother called her over as Thelma left.  They had a selection of dresses for Emily to try on. 

In relief, Emily noted that none of them was pink!  There was a green, and a brown, and a yellow, and…wait…one of them was plaid.  What kind of personality was plaid?  She thumbed rapidly through the magazine - hoping it wasn’t schizophrenic.

A beautiful girl entered the shop.  She had long dark hair and a gorgeous figure.  Emily stopped thumbing.  She recognized her.  It was Karen Switzer.  She shared last period math with Emily and Howie.  Karen was new in town and in the same grade as Howie.  Her family was from the hated Cornville.  Emily was comfortable with her own looks until she saw Karen.  Was that the difference a year made?  If so, Emily couldn’t wait until her next birthday.  All the boys at school all notice, too.  Did Howie?  Emily frowned.

Karen was startled to see Emily frown at her.  But blushing, she pretended not to notice.  Meg looked up to greet her and invite her to look around.

Obviously, Karen could not shop in the junior miss section.  She gave Emily a shy smile and went on to another selection of dresses.  Emily held her shoulders back as Karen passed.  Karen had better not try the dresses she and Thelma were looking at.  They would look positively indecent on her.  Wait!  Was that how they were supposed to look?  She blushed.  Then why weren’t they in the other room?

Karen attracted attention from other customers in the store, who watched to see what she selected from the racks, hoping that if they wore something similar, they might look that way.  Karen smiled politely at one customer who was matching her dress for dress, in a somewhat larger size.

Karen was actually nice, Emily admitted.  She wasn’t sure that was fair!  Didn’t Karen know beautiful girls were supposed have the gigantic fault of being stuck-up?  Emily was not bothered, exactly.  She was popular herself.  She just hoped Karen knew how wrong it was to move into a town looking like that and steal someone’s boyfriend.  Emily closed her eyes and made a wish.  But when she opened them, Karen was still beautiful.  As she watched Karen select dresses, the ones her mother and Meg were holding seemed increasingly childish.

Karen was standing on the blocks in front of a full-length mirror holding a lovely white dress in front of her while she checked the hem.  It had simple lines and was unpretentious.  The only embellishment was Karen’s beauty, a stark contrast to the frilly green dress with bows that Meg was holding

The customer who was matching Karen grabbed something white and rushed into a stall.  Emily wasn’t sure, but it looked like she was holding a bed sheet.

“See the all ruffles around the hem and the frills and bows down the front of this dress?  I love to wear feminine things like this.  Try it on,” urged Meg.

Emily shook her head.  It was far too busy.

“It would favor your eyes,” her mother added.

Emily fingered it.  It certainly wasn’t simple.  Maybe she could go in the opposite direction.  She pointed to the stove full of costume jewelry.  “Can I add hooped earrings and bracelets, like Meg is wearing, to it?  And a gypsy bandana?”

Easter paused, and then she handed a light brown dress with dark trim to Emily, and said, “Try this one on.

Emily looked at.  Brown was a possible Howie color, reliable, steady, and dependable, she remembered.  She took it.

She entered a horse stall and tried it on.  It fit well, and it was simple, and unpretentious.  She refused to acknowledge that she could learn anything from Karen Switzer; instead she admired her mother’s good taste.  But when she opened the stall door, there was Karen in front of the mirror, again.  And she was also wearing a brown dress - a chocolate brown dress.  And it fitted interestingly.  She was a feast for the eyes.  With her fudge colored hair cascading down her shoulders, she looked like a succulent desert, and Emily realized it was possible to attract someone and make him hungry at the same time

In contrast, Emily felt like a piece of dry toast, burnt at the edges with a glob of blond butter at the top, to be choked down only if someone was really hungry.  Didn’t it hang too loose?  She threw her shoulders back and wished Karen would move back to Cornville.

“It didn’t fit,” Emily insisted, as she returned the dress to its hanger.  She was depressed.

Her mother was disappointed.  But she handed over the yellow selection at the same time Meg held out the plaid one.

*          *          *

Her father’s question to her mother broke into Emily’s thoughts.  “So how did you decide on a blue dress?”

Her mother looked puzzled.  “You know, I am not sure.”

*          *          *

Emily was discouraged.  Neither yellow nor plaid was right.  She knew Howie was not hopeful, imaginative, or happy, and he better not have a multiple-personality disorder.  But what to do?

She asked, “What is Howie wearing to the wedding?”  Maybe she could coordinate with Howie.

 “Just his old suit,” replied Meg, not at all interested in Howie.  “There is not much to work with there; nothing is going to make him look much better than he does.

That didn’t help!  She was not about to buy an old dress to match Howie.

She closed her eyes in despair.  Wait!  With her eyes shut, she could feel the dresses around her.  Did one of them feel special?  Could she find it by touch?  Without looking, she reached into a rack and felt dress after dress.  No, this one was too frumpy.  This one had frills.  She could tell just by touching it that this one was chartreuse, and she didn’t want to wear a color that she couldn’t spell.  But!  What about this one?  It felt special, soft to the touch it had a tapered waist and with padded shoulders.  What were they for?  It felt beautiful, and Emily was certain it looked so.  Howie had to be attracted to this one, she knew.  She pulled it out without looking at it and quickly ran into a stall, latching the door behind her.  Whatever this dress was, she knew it was the right.  Breathlessly, she held it up and looked.

Perfect!  Hmm.  It was blue.  That cinched it.  She realize now blue must be Howie’s favorite color.  She would have to remember to tell him that.  Howie was scientific, steady, and marriageable.  It was fate!

Lovingly she fingered it.  The material was just the right amount clingy.  It was simple, but not too straight.  What was the purpose of the padded shoulders and tapered waist, she wondered?  She put it on and looked down.  Oh!  That was the purpose!  She was going to go home and add padded shoulders and a belt to all her other dresses.  And her mother would be please, because it favored her eyes.  Hazel eyes had blue in them, didn’t they?

She left the stall and checked herself out in the mirror.  She leaned forward.  Yes!  She was certain she saw blue speckles in her eyes.

Karen Switzer was holding a green dress in front of her.  Emily shook her head.  How could Karen expect Howie to be attracted to her, if she insisted on wearing the wrong color?

She hurried back to her mom and Meg and twirled in a circle.  “I love this one, Mom!  Can we buy it?” she asked.  She quickly added, “It goes with my eyes.  Can’t you see the blue specks in them?”  She leaned forward

Easter thought it over.  Personally, she thought Emily looked prettiest in browns and greens, but this was a nice.  And she was so excited.  It was nice to see her enthusiastic of something other than baseball cleats.  She smiled at the padding and the waist.

 “It is lovely,” Meg admitted to Easter.  “I might like something like that myself.”  She fingered the material.  “We have a larger size like it somewhere in the store.”

That was okay with Emily.  Let it stay there.  She was going to be the only one wearing this dress to impress Howie.   “Wrap it up, and let’s go,” she urged.  It was time to get home and practice.  Life was good!

“This color would look nice on you, too,” Meg suggested to Easter, as she wrapped it in clear plastic.  “Maybe I should look for that other one.  And you could go as twins.”

 That isn’t necessary, Emily thought.  My mother doesn’t need to attract Howie.

But Easter only laughed and said, “Maybe another time.  I don’t want to spend all of Ira’s money at once”

As she and her mother left the shop, with Thelma’s magazine tucked safely under one arm and the blue dress hung over the other one, Emily glanced back and saw Meg helping Karen.  Was that a glimpse of blue?

*          *          *

“The dress just spoke to me, Daddy.  I don’t know why, but I knew in my heart that it was the right one.  It was like fate!”

“Zen,” said Mr. Hinton.

“Then what?” responded Emily.

“No, I said ‘Zen’, not ‘then’,” her father replied.  “Zen is an Oriental philosophy that teaches a person can know something in his heart without thinking about it.  I learned about it in the Pacific during the war.”

“Then Zen must have told us to buy the blue dress, because it was not the color I had in mind for her,” Easter told to Ira.

“Blue is Howie’s favorite color,” Emily insisted under her breath, at last spearing the pea and shoving it into triumphantly her mouth.

She got up and began clearing the table, collecting the empty plates, as it was her job to do the dishes.

 “Did you buy yourself a dress?” Ira asked his wife.

“Not this time,” replied Easter.

“So I won’t go broke this week,” Ira sighed in relief.

“I didn’t spend all of your money on dresses,” Easter answered, “but I did buy some cosmetics from Louise Throckmorton this morning”

“I supposed that tomorrow when I come home I’ll find you painted up like a kewpie doll.”

“Oh no, Ira.  When makeup is properly applied, a man doesn’t even know it’s on.  He just notices how beautiful his wife looks.”

“You sound like you are quoting Louise!”

“Well…maybe.”

“But you don’t need any makeup.  You look lovely the way you are.”

“Thank you, dear.  I am wearing what I bought this morning.”

Emily giggled, as she lifted the plates.

“I’ve been had!”  Mr. Hinton pretended to grump.

“I love you, dear,” Mrs. Hinton said, ignoring the complaint.

“I love you, Daddy,” added Emily.

And they both bent down and kissed the grump on the cheek.