Free Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 by Kelley St. John Page B

shrugging off her disappointment, “I guess it’ll have to do. Go on and start laying them out, and I’ll finish cooking.”
    “You cooked?” Clarise asked, her stomach tingling in anticipation.
    “Shoot, you’re leaving tomorrow morning for Gasparilla, and I bet none of those folks down there have a clue how to fix good ol’ turnip greens and corn bread, not to mention pintos.”
    “You shouldn’t have done that,” Clarise said, but she was inwardly celebrating. Her grandmother was the best cook she knew, and she loved doting on Clarise. Lord knows, Clarise didn’t mind letting her.
    “Uh-uh,” Granny said, waving a mauve-tipped finger. “Don’t you start now. I love cooking for you. Made you a chocolate pie too.”
    “With meringue?” Clarise’s mouth watered.
    “As if it’d be a Gertrude Robinson blue-ribbon-winning chocolate pie without meringue,” Granny said, clucking her tongue as she headed toward the kitchen.
    Laughing, Clarise scooped up her bags and hauled them to the bedroom. She wouldn’t be able to carry all of her new things to Tampa, so a quick perusal from Granny Gert might be exactly what she needed to help her decide what to bring. Draping the items around the bed, she listened to Granny Gert’s heels softly clicking down the hall. “Okay, let’s have a look,” Granny said, rounding the doorway of Clarise’s bedroom and shuffling toward the bed. Moving both palms to her cheeks, she gasped. “Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”
    “The clothes or the lingerie?”
    “All of it.” She circled the bed, picking up the fabrics and rearranging the items so that each piece of clothing was topped with a wisp of lingerie. Then she slapped her palms together and nodded approvingly. “Yep, that’s how I’d do it.”
    “How you’d do what?”
    “Wear the unmentionables. See, you want to wear this red one with the tube top,” she said, fingering the filmy lace of the merry widow.
    “Why’s that?” Clarise asked, ever intrigued by her grandmother’s infinite wisdom and amazed that it evidently included a knowledge of intimate apparel.
    “Because it’s easy to pull down. One swipe and you’ve got everything right out in the open where it’s supposed to be, right? Then you can flip it back up in a jiff, if ya want.”
    Clarise shook her head. “I get your point.”
    “Or points,” Granny said, winking.
    “You’re terrible,” Clarise said, her smile so broad it hurt her cheeks.
    “So your father says,” Granny quipped, with a flippant shrug. “You can tell I lose sleep over it.”
    “Well, I love you for it.”
    “Exactly. So, is there a lucky fellow, say, your boss, for example, who’ll be on the receiving end of this show of sexy duds? He’s been the dream guy, hasn’t he?”
    When Clarise didn’t answer, Granny added, “Child, like I said, I saw it last year. The thing you haven’t seen, however, is that spark flying from the other direction.”
    Oh to dream. “You imagined that, Granny,” Clarise said, but she did wonder if Ethan had thought about more than friendship.
    Another shrug, then Granny Gert lifted the fishnet stockings. “Oh, I had a pair of these. Wait a minute, I still do. In my second panty drawer.”
    How many grandmothers kept two drawers for their
drawers?
Clarise grinned. She gave Granny Gert twenty minutes tops before she went searching for her own pair of slinky hose, and an hour at best before she slid them on.
    “I didn’t imagine anything, young lady,” Granny said, transitioning quickly into the original conversation. “So, is he going along?”
    “I told you before, we’re just friends. And yes, he’s going on the trip. I don’t know if he’s getting back in town tonight or tomorrow, but he told me he’d be back in time to head to Tampa and that he’d see me there.”
    “Uh-huh,” she mumbled. “Oh, wow, this is gorgeous. It’s going to really play up your hair and eyes.” She fingered the green dress.
    “It does,