Shelley came along willingly. "I'd love to wear a little hat, too."
The shop that backed up to the florist's had dozens and dozens of hats displayed and almost all of them were pretty.
"Welcome, ladies, I'm Madelyn the Hat Lady. How can I help you?"
"I'm Jane Jeffry and this is my matron of honor. I'm getting remarried in six weeks and I want a little hat to wear. Sort of a beret, off center."
"I have those. Let me bring a few to you to consider." She picked out four and Jane tried them on in a three-sided mirror that showed how the hats looked from every angle. The first one was too big. The second too small. The third one was red.
The red one was the perfect size and sat well on her head with a few bobby pins built-in to hold the hat in place.
"That's the wrong color, but it would look great if it was the same as your dress," Shelley said. "Let me try it on, too."
They gushed in unison. "We'll be back with what we're wearing so you can make a color match. Can you do that, Madelyn?"
"Of course I can. How about coming back the first of
next week with the dresses so I can find a perfect match." "Done. Shelley, remind me to bring the quarters." "Quarters?"
Jane explained about the fine for the parking meter.
"Aren't they obnoxious? I have a parking space behind my shop that doesn't have a meter, but I always remind customers to feed the meters and keep lots of quarters in a jar for them. See you on Monday or Tuesday. Wednesdayis when I take off the afternoon to shop for fabrics and threads and netting."
"We'll be back Tuesday at the latest."
They both left the shop happy and Jane suggested they stop by the community center and watch the people dance for a few minutes.
There were five couples and it was practice not lessons. All of them were skilled. The young women wore short circular skirts under which they wore colorful bloomers. And the young men had sort of slouchy tuxes so they could move around well.
Jane and Shelley found it fascinating. "I've never seen dancing like that," Shelley said, as one young man threw his partner over his shoulder and back between his feet.
"Sure you have. It was a rave in the forties musical movies."
One of the other young men turned his partner in a cartwheel but his hands must have been sweaty and he lost his grip. She fell on the floor and jumped right back up. He rubbed his hands on his trousers and they tried it again, her turquoise bloomers flashing as she spun.
"That would have at least broken my arm," Shelley said. "I can't take anymore. Let's go shopping at the mall for a dress for me. I'd prefer black, like the men are wearing, if you don't care."
"Perfect. I'll stand out like a big green parrot,"Jane said with a laugh.
Chapter
SEVENTEEN
J
ane had driven them today. She knew her cautious driving drove Shelley crazy, just as Shelley's driving scared Jane to death. When they got back to Jane's Jeep, there wasn't a car parked behind them, so Jane could back up a little to pull out into the street. As she did so, she stopped.
"Why are we just sitting here?" Shelley asked.
"There is no traffic behind me except a small red car pulling into where I was parked. I want to watch him as he goes to the parking meter."
Sure enough, the man got out with presumably a couple of quarters in his hand, looked at the meter, and then at Jane's Jeep. He approached the car and Jane rolled the window down.
"Are you the one who almost filled that meter up?" "I am."
"That was generous. I've gotten two parking tickets here. It's a regular stop I have to make once a week. I'll do the same favor for someone else," he said with a smile.
"Sort of like borrowing a cigarette from a stranger, knowing you'll do the same thing for some other stranger someday. It evens out," Jane said.
"Exactly. Thanks again," he said, departing on his errand. Jane drove off smiling.
Shelley said, "That was a nice man. And you are a nice woman. In spite of driving at a turtle's pace."
While Jane was driving them home, in her own sedate way to protect her Jeep, she said, "If you want to wear black, why not try on that black skirt and jacket I bought. We're about the same size, and you don't have to buy something new."
"I'd love buying something new," Shelley said, "but if it fits me, I'll take you up on the offer. Saves me a trip to the mall and trying on lots of clothes I'm not crazy about."
The long black skirt and short, fitted jacket looked just as good, if not better, on Shelley than it had on Jane.
"We'll share it,"Jane said. "What sort of blouse are you going to wear?"
"A gardenia-colored silk chemise," Shelley said. As she was taking the outfit off, the phone rang.
It was Ted Jeffry. "Jane, Mother has just been moved
to the nursing home. I know you wanted to send flowers
to the staff. Here is the address."
"Wait a sec. I won't remember it if I don't write it down in my address book."
He gave her the address and added, "It's Suite 315. I know you said you wanted to send flowers to the staff that's forced to take care of her."
"I just found a wonderful florist. He's making my bridal flowers. I'll call him right now. He gave me his card. And I'll keep sending arrangements every two weeks until — well, until she is gone." Jane didn't want to say "dead." Not that she thought it would have deeply offended him.
"I'll visit again tomorrow late in the day and report on the flowers," Ted said.
While Shelley was putting her clothes back on, she asked once again if Jane had remembered to ask Mel if they could see a copy of the notes Miss Welbourne had made for the last meeting they'd expected to attend.
Jane slapped her head. "I think I asked him. And he probably forgot." She paused for a moment. "On the other hand, maybe I forgot to ask. I'll call him right after I call the florist."
The florist they'd visited had given Jane his-business card, so she rang him up to place the order.
"My mother-in-law has had a stroke and been moved from the hospital to a nursing home and I want to send flowers to the nursing home."
"What sort of flowers do you want?"