Free Single in Suburbia by Wendy Wax Page B

dressed and ready, wanting to know when they could leave to go shopping for her prom dress.
    By two that afternoon, she and Meghan were picking their way through the throng of Sunday shoppers at the mall. Meghan was practically vibrating with excitement as they moved through the crowds. Amanda was expending most of her energy trying to squash down her panic; the last thing she should be doing right now was spending money they didn’t have.
    “So, what kind of dress do you have in mind?” Amanda asked. It was hard to get in the proper acquisitional mood when her biggest concern wasn’t style, but price. Clearance priced would be good. Drastically reduced even better.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Meghan said. “I kind of figured I’d know it when I saw it.”
    Amanda looked at her daughter. Meghan rarely talked about the coming divorce, but her moods had begun to change with the unpredictability and intensity of a super-cell thunderstorm. Not for the first time, Amanda wished there was some manual for divorce: a set of guidelines for navigating the uncharted waters.
    “Let’s start at Nordstrom and then move on to Parisian and Macy’s.” Amanda considered her daughter’s tall, lithe body. “I see you in something simple and classic that screams good taste.” She couldn’t help adding, “And doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”
    Meghan stiffened. “Lucy Simmons got a designer gown from a trunk show at Saks.” Meghan’s tone swelled with envy. “Her mother said it was worth every penny.”
    “That’s nice.” Amanda swallowed her irritation. “But Lucy’s pudgy and doesn’t have a waist. She needs designer help. You’d look great in a sack.”
    Meghan rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Mom. Maybe you should tell me our budget before we start so I don’t fall in love with something I can’t have.”
    Unfortunately, the amount they could afford was much too close to zero to share with Meghan. Because, really, they shouldn’t be here at all. “I kind of figured I’d know it when I saw it,” she said, copying Meghan’s nonchalant tone.
    “OK,” her daughter said, reluctant to let the conversation go. “But I sure hope we both know and see it at the same time. Everybody else already has their dresses.”
    “I’m ready,” Amanda said, banishing the worry, wanting desperately to enjoy the shopping rituals she and Meghan had developed over the years. “Are you?”
    Meghan gave a thumbs-up. “Yep!” Her smile turned less brittle and her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. Amanda would give a lot to keep that look in her daughter’s eyes.
    “OK, then,” Amanda directed. “You start over there. I’ll take this side. We’ll work toward each other.”
    “Check.”
    “On your mark, get set…” Amanda brought her hand down like the flag before a race.
    At the nearest rack of size sixes, they began to pan for gold, looking and assessing, rejecting and considering as they slowly narrowed the gap between them.
    “Oooh, look at this!” Meghan, the first to find a nugget, held up a turquoise taffeta ball gown with a nonexistent back.
    “Interesting,” Amanda conceded, careful not to point out the lack of a back or ask the price. Meghan might take a dozen gowns into the dressing room. There was no point in worrying about specific dresses this early in the game. “I’m not sure about the drape though. I’d definitely try it on.”
    For the next few hours, Amanda pushed aside the panic and gave herself up to the joy of seeing her daughter preen in front of mirrors and whirl in gowns that clung and caressed her newly feminine curves. Everything looked good on her, everything brought color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes, but nothing swept them away until the very last store a very few minutes before closing time.
    “Oh, Mom, look!” Meghan turned slowly from the mirror to face Amanda. Her dark hair swirled around her bare shoulders and her face shone with delight.
    The strapless silver sheath was the