Page 81 of The Homewreckers
“Right,” he said. But she’d already disconnected.
Jodi picked the first hanger from the clothes rack and held it out for inspection. It was a floaty, floral chiffon sundress, deeply cut in the front with straps that crossed in the back.
“Nope.” Hattie shook her head to underscore her reaction. “Not happening.”
“Sweetie, this will be adorable on you,” Jodi said. “With your coloring, and those great toned arms of yours…”
“Who wears a tea party dress on a construction site? I’ll look ridiculous. Anyway, this thing is way too short. Do you want the whole world to see my cooter?”
“Your… cooter?” The wardrobe assistant giggled. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Yes. It means exactly that.”
Jodi took a step backward. “Wow. Excuse my ignorance.”
Hattie was immediately penitent. “Shit, Jodi, I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for. I’m just in a foul mood. The idea of that bitchy Rebecca picking out clothes for me, like it’s my first day of kindergarten, it just gripes my grits.”
“It rubs me the wrong way too,” Jodi confided. “When I got here this morning, there was this gigantic box of clothes that was shipped from New York. Anyway, we’ve just got to suck it up and pick out something you don’t hate.”
She riffled through the clothes on the garment rack and pulled out what looked like a pair of indigo denim coveralls.
“That?” Hattie asked. “That looks like something you’d wear to work in a garage. It’s the extreme opposite of that party dress. Can’t we find something in the middle?”
“It’s a jumpsuit,” Jodi said. She pointed to the label. “This is LaLa Tarabella. She’s, like, the hottest designer going right now. It might not look like much on the hanger, but try it on.”
Hattie grabbed the jumpsuit and retreated behind a dressing screen. She studied herself in the mirror. The coveralls had an oversized orange industrial zipper front, accented in bright orange top-stitching, and puffy long sleeves. The waist was gathered. It wasn’t… terrible.
“Come on out and let me see,” Jodi called.
Hattie stepped out.
“Oh yeah,” Jodi said. She pulled the zipper down another four inches, then rolled up the sleeves to elbow length. “Turn around,” she ordered.
Hattie did a quarter turn. “Hmm. It kinda bags in the seat, but I can fix that easily enough,” Jodi said. She grabbed a handful of pins and began pinning the excess fabric. “Turn again? That’s better, but I think we’ll take it in a half inch in the bust. That’ll take care of the grease monkey look.” She went over to a rack of accessories andplucked out an abstract patterned silk scarf in vivid hues of oranges, hot pink, lime green, and yellow. “Vintage Pucci,” she said, giving Hattie a wink. “From my own collection.” She knotted the scarf around Hattie’s waist and stepped back again to study her handiwork.
“I love it,” Hattie said. “The scarf really makes it.”
“Well, you know what Dolly Parton says inSteel Magnolias,” Jodi reminded her. “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.”
Hattie looked down at her bare feet. “You’re not gonna make me wear some horrible spiked heels, right?”
“Nope.” Jodi went back to the accessories rack and handed her a pair of stylish lime-green tennis shoes. “Lanvin,” she said.
Hattie let out a deep sigh of contentment and threw her arms around the wardrobe mistress. “I feel so much better now. This outfit feels just right. It’s me. Only more stylish. And cute.”
“Great. Now take it off so I can get started on the alterations,” Jodi ordered. “Once that’s done we’ve got to FaceTime Rebecca so you can model the finished outfit.”
“What?”
“I don’t make the rules, I just make the rules look fabulous,” Jodi said. “Be back here in an hour, okay?”
“Hmm.” Rebecca’s voice filled the small trailer. “What happened to the dresses we shipped down to you?”
Hattie started to speak, but Jodi beat her to the punch. “Way too short,” she said. “And not enough fabric to let the hems down.”
“What about those cute rompers? I was thinking we’d show off her legs.”
“Hattie’s got this weird body type. Short-waisted. They made her look like a puffin. Not flattering. At all.”
