Read Online Wedding in Great Neck (9781101607701) by Yona Zeldis McDonough - Free Book Online Page B

single-minded ferocity. When she was deep in the A-zone, her mind became a highly powered leaf blower whose roaring blasts sent all extraneous thoughts scattering; she could hunker down and work for hours without a break. But she had no desire to share any of this with her uncle Teddy, who had clearly decided that she was not worth another nanosecond more of his precious energy and moved off in search of someone else to badger.
    Justine pressed her ear closer to the door. Yeah, that was Teddy in there, all right. Teddy had gone to Dartmouth as an undergraduate, and he managed to twist and stretch virtually every conversation to include this fact. What if she told him that these days Dartmouth was considered the bottom of the Ivy barrel, filled with dumb-ass frat boys who probably had sex with cows in their downtime? Justine had set her own sights on Yale.
    She continued along the hall. At the far end was her grandmother’s room; she knew that, but even if she hadn’t, the sound of the dog—it had started barking
again
—would have clued her in. So she had eliminated two of the possibilities. Then it occurred to her that she could simply knock on the doors or, if no one answered, go in. She could say that she was looking for her mother. Why had she not thought of this sooner? She rapped on the next door she came to.
    “Come in,” quavered a voice she recognized as belonging to her great-grandmother, Lenore. Justine opened the door a crack and peeked inside. “I said to come in,” Lenore said. She was standing next to a complicated-looking steaming device planted in the center of the room; she wore something flowing and gauzy that involved leopard print and lots of it. Shiny buttons winked their way down the front. With both hands, Lenore directed the nozzle at an olive-green dress. “Ow!” she added. “That’s hot.”
    “Are you okay?” Justine asked. Maybe Grandma Lenore shouldn’t be handling the steamer by herself.
    “I’m fine,” Lenore said, sucking on her finger. “Don’t you worry about me.”
    “I was looking for my mom,” Justine said, though Lenore had not asked.
    “Other direction,” Lenore said. “Down the hall.”
    “Thanks,” Justine said, feeling awkward. “Thanks a lot.”
    Lenore looked up at her as if only just realizing who she was. “What bra are you wearing?” she asked. “To the wedding?”
    “I don’t know. Just a bra.” Grandma L. truly was obsessed by the topic of other people’s underwear.
    “The dress is shantung, right? And very fitted?”
    “I guess,” said Justine. She didn’t know what shantung was, though she actually liked the dress Angelica had chosen, which was dove-gray and had a silvery sheen in the light. But she disapproved of it on principle. Meant to be worn once and then never again, it offended both Justine’s sensibilities and her morals.
    “You have to have the right bra, sweetheart. You can’t just wear any bra under a dress like that. You need something with shape but smooth too. No seams in front. No little bows.” She put down the steamer’s nozzle and used her gnarled hands to gesture across her breasts.
    “I have the right bra. You don’t have to worry.” Justine smiled. Grandma Lenore was doing fine. Just fine. She turned to leave the room.
    “Well, I hope so!” Grandma Lenore said, frowning slightly. “Your whole look can be spoiled by the wrong bra.” She appeared to be thinking and then added, “Sweetheart, there’ll be a couple of girls here later who’ll be doing hair and makeup; you’ll go see them, right?”
    “Definitely,” said Justine, though she had no intention of going anywhere near either of them: she didn’t wear makeup, period, and she would not allow her hair to be sprayed, moussed, gelled, or fluffed by a stranger with a possibly lethal pair of scissors in her hand.
    “And Portia too?” Lenore had resumed her steaming.
    “Portia too.” She glanced again in the direction of the steamer. “Nice