Free The Summer of Cotton Candy by Debbie Viguié Page B

mean, the skirt I got to wear to cousin Alice’s funeral?”
    “Yes, that one.”
    “All the way to the left. But I don’t think —”
    “Found it,” her mother interrupted.
    She tossed the skirt and Candace caught it. Next her mother bent over and inspected her shoes. “These are all you have?” she asked after a minute.
    “Yes,” Candace said, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. Her mother turned and looked at her for a moment.
    “Put the skirt on. I’ll be right back.”
    Her mom headed toward her bedroom, and Candace slipped on the skirt. It was straight and form fitting. It was also shorter than Candace remembered, ending several inches above her knees. In a minute her mother returned, arms full.
    “Try on this,” she instructed, handing Candace a teal shirt.
    It took Candace a minute to figure out how to put it on. It turned out the shirt was a wrap-around. Once it was on she was surprised to find that it fit really well. She was also surprised that it was lower cut than anything she owned.
    “And these,” her mom said, handing her a pair of her shoes. “We wear the same size, so they should fit.”
    They were black strappy sandals with two-inch heels. Candace slipped them on and was surprised at how comfortable they were. Her mom nodded. “Those are great shoes. They look great and you can stand all night in them if you have to. Now, pull your hair back in a small black barrette, and let’s see what that looks like.”
    Candace did as her mother said and then stared at herself in her full-length mirror. Her mom came to stand beside her and nodded as though satisfied.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “Wow,” was all Candace could say.
    “You do clean up very nicely. What’s nice about this look is you won’t be out of place if he takes you somewhere upscale. If he takes you somewhere more casual, you’ll be comfortable and he’ll be priding himself on having the most dazzling girl in the place.”
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    She kissed Candace on the cheek. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. Don’t forget some lipstick.”
    “I won’t.”
    “And don’t let him paw at you. Just because you look stunning isn’t an excuse for him to be ill-mannered.”
    “I’ll remember that,” Candace said, blushing at the thought.
    “Take your cell phone. If you need anything, or he gets weird or tries anything, or even if he’s just boring you to death, you call and we’ll come get you.”
    Candace turned and hugged her mom. Sometimes she got frustrated because she felt like her parents were harder on her than they should be, but she could always count on them to come through when she needed them. “I will,” she promised.
    “Okay. Then knock him dead.”
    Her phone rang. Candace picked it up as her mom left the room. “Hello?”
    “Hey, it’s Tam.”
    “Tamara! I’m going on a date.”
    “So I heard. You need help with clothes?”
    “Not anymore. My mom totally came through. You should see me; I look hot.”
    “Cool. Send me a picture. Since you’re good, I gotta run. Having dinner with the folks tonight.”
    “Oh, okay.”
    “Don’t forget the picture.”
    “I won’t.”
    As soon as they hung up, Candace turned her phone around and took a picture of herself. For once she actually managed to take a decent one. She usually cut off half her face when she tried. She sent it to Tamara, hoping she would love the look as much as Candace did.
    She stared again at herself in the mirror. “I can’t believe I never realized how cute this skirt is,” she said, twirling.
    After fixing her makeup and transferring her things to her small black purse that she usually took to church, she headed downstairs to wait. Her father looked up from his magazine, eyes narrowed.
    “What do you think, Daddy?” she asked.
    “Turn.”
    She did a slow twirl. “Well?”
    “Very nice.”
    “You think he’ll like it?”
    “I’ll think he’s a blind fool if he doesn’t. I also think I’ll slap him walleyed