told me,” Charlene Anderson drawled as she joined them. Impeccably dressed as always, her four-inch heels adding to her already impressive height, she had a garment bag dangling from her fingers and a shoebox under her arm. “Come on.”
The three of them pushed her into her office.
“Put this on,” Charlene ordered.
“I smell,” Abby objected. Charlene’s clothes were always too nice to sweat in.
“Then go wash up in the bathroom and change in there. There’s a bra in the bottom of the bag, and I bought you new underwear, too.”
Abby blinked at the three women who’d appointed themselves as her non-wicked stepsisters. Maggie shooed her out the door. “Go. I’ll do your hair. Char will do your makeup. Hurry.”
In the bathroom, Abby slid the bag from the hanger. The clothes were far too fancy for a silent auction that was basically an arts-and-crafts swap meet, but they were perfect for a gallery show. After peeling off her dirty clothes and washing her hands, she slipped into new underwear and the strapless bra that was necessary because the black blouse hung low on her shoulders. The cream skirt was long with a deep slit up one leg and a black lace panel. She wobbled on the spike heels of the strappy black sandals.
She could do this. She’d been more dressed up for weddings. She’d be on a level surface, not in the paddock. And she wouldn’t have to move. Much.
The three women smiled when she rejoined them. Maggie pushed her into a chair. “We’ll leave your hair loose. I brought dry shampoo.”
Charlene winked at her. “You look like a million bucks. Don’t worry.”
They were done in minutes, and Tiffany added the final touch with a necklace and a cocktail ring. Abby walked across the room a few times so they could check the outfit and the shoes, and then they all went out together.
No one noticed the change, although Toby might have stared too long. Great. I get dressed to the teeth, and the only person who notices is my dog.
“Where are the guys?” Tiffany asked as shoppers began to mill through the booths. “They can’t spend all night outside.”
“Calm down, Smurfette,” Nate Mathis, Maggie’s twin brother, drawled as he walked up with his wife, Faith, under his arm. “They’re right behind us.” He winked at Abby. “The girls have been at it, I see.”
Blushing, she nodded.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Tracy Hoover is coming to see her,” Tiffany said.
Abby’s knees trembled at the name. The Hoover Gallery was one of the best in the Northwest. It had a national reputation for showcasing western art and landscapes by top-tier artists. Oh God. She couldn’t do this. That woman would take one look and laugh all the way back to Boise.
“She’s here,” Michael Marx whispered as he hurried to the group. “Right behind me. She stopped to look at a quilt.”
Kevin Anderson and Gray Harper ambled up behind him. Kevin whistled softly. “Char picked well. You look great, Abby.”
Gray squeezed her shoulder. “You can do this. No doubt in my mind.”
Abby looked around the small space at everyone’s smiles. This is why she’d added them all to her List of People to Protect From Wallis. For so long it had only been Maggie. Then it had grown to Nate and the rest of the Mathis family. When Wallis left, Abby had added every family in Fiddler who had taught her to take care of herself. As she’d needed less physical help, she’d begun to list the people who befriended her or encouraged her. She’d added Lex after his first visit to the farm.
A cloud of expensive perfume warned them of Tracy’s approach. Abby took a deep breath and smiled at the blonde in casual clothes that had probably cost more than her first truck. “Hello. I’m Abby Quinn.”
“Tracy Hoover.” Her smile was wide, and her handshake was firm. “I have to tell you how impressed I am. There are some beautiful pieces displayed, and everyone has been quick to tell me you’re responsible for
The three of them pushed her into her office.
“Put this on,” Charlene ordered.
“I smell,” Abby objected. Charlene’s clothes were always too nice to sweat in.
“Then go wash up in the bathroom and change in there. There’s a bra in the bottom of the bag, and I bought you new underwear, too.”
Abby blinked at the three women who’d appointed themselves as her non-wicked stepsisters. Maggie shooed her out the door. “Go. I’ll do your hair. Char will do your makeup. Hurry.”
In the bathroom, Abby slid the bag from the hanger. The clothes were far too fancy for a silent auction that was basically an arts-and-crafts swap meet, but they were perfect for a gallery show. After peeling off her dirty clothes and washing her hands, she slipped into new underwear and the strapless bra that was necessary because the black blouse hung low on her shoulders. The cream skirt was long with a deep slit up one leg and a black lace panel. She wobbled on the spike heels of the strappy black sandals.
She could do this. She’d been more dressed up for weddings. She’d be on a level surface, not in the paddock. And she wouldn’t have to move. Much.
The three women smiled when she rejoined them. Maggie pushed her into a chair. “We’ll leave your hair loose. I brought dry shampoo.”
Charlene winked at her. “You look like a million bucks. Don’t worry.”
They were done in minutes, and Tiffany added the final touch with a necklace and a cocktail ring. Abby walked across the room a few times so they could check the outfit and the shoes, and then they all went out together.
No one noticed the change, although Toby might have stared too long. Great. I get dressed to the teeth, and the only person who notices is my dog.
“Where are the guys?” Tiffany asked as shoppers began to mill through the booths. “They can’t spend all night outside.”
“Calm down, Smurfette,” Nate Mathis, Maggie’s twin brother, drawled as he walked up with his wife, Faith, under his arm. “They’re right behind us.” He winked at Abby. “The girls have been at it, I see.”
Blushing, she nodded.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Tracy Hoover is coming to see her,” Tiffany said.
Abby’s knees trembled at the name. The Hoover Gallery was one of the best in the Northwest. It had a national reputation for showcasing western art and landscapes by top-tier artists. Oh God. She couldn’t do this. That woman would take one look and laugh all the way back to Boise.
“She’s here,” Michael Marx whispered as he hurried to the group. “Right behind me. She stopped to look at a quilt.”
Kevin Anderson and Gray Harper ambled up behind him. Kevin whistled softly. “Char picked well. You look great, Abby.”
Gray squeezed her shoulder. “You can do this. No doubt in my mind.”
Abby looked around the small space at everyone’s smiles. This is why she’d added them all to her List of People to Protect From Wallis. For so long it had only been Maggie. Then it had grown to Nate and the rest of the Mathis family. When Wallis left, Abby had added every family in Fiddler who had taught her to take care of herself. As she’d needed less physical help, she’d begun to list the people who befriended her or encouraged her. She’d added Lex after his first visit to the farm.
A cloud of expensive perfume warned them of Tracy’s approach. Abby took a deep breath and smiled at the blonde in casual clothes that had probably cost more than her first truck. “Hello. I’m Abby Quinn.”
“Tracy Hoover.” Her smile was wide, and her handshake was firm. “I have to tell you how impressed I am. There are some beautiful pieces displayed, and everyone has been quick to tell me you’re responsible for
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