Melissa Senate - To Keep Her Baby

She wasn’t sure why, but her usual take-me-as-I-am-or-talk-to-the-hand went poof. She felt...exposed, maybe. And she didn’t like it.

It’s a process , she reminded herself, thinking of something Larilla Davenport had said this morning. And it’s not going to be easy.

Not much was.

James sat on the tufted velvet chaise in the changing area while Ginger was in one of the dressing rooms with two armloads of clothes the saleswomen had selected for her. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Ginger had said.

Because if I don’t change the way I look and my big mouth and flipping the bird even when it’s deserved, that jerk Alden might come take my baby. The baby he says can’t even be his, even though he’s the only man I’ve been with in six months.

She wanted to look more presentable for her baby’s sake. To keep her baby. Of all the students his godmother had had over the years, he didn’t ever remember meeting someone in Ginger’s shoes. He’d help her best he could.

The door to Ginger’s dressing room opened and she stepped out. Were it not for her big blond hair and makeup, he’d never have recognized her. She wore a tailored white button-down shirt and khaki pants, neither tight nor loose, and red leather flats.

“The shoes add a delightful pop of color,” the saleswoman said with a nod, looking at Ginger’s reflection in the full-length three-way mirror.

Ginger was canting her head to the left and right, biting her lip, frowning as she turned this way and that as she checked herself out.

“I’d say this look would go from PTA meeting to playground to coffee with a gal pal,” the other saleswoman said. “And the shoes are on sale this week only!”

Ginger stared at herself. “I don’t know...”

“Oh! I know what’s wrong!” the brunette said. “Come with me!”

“Uh, where?” Ginger asked, following the woman to a back corridor.

Five minutes later, the brunette returned with Ginger trailing behind her. At least, James thought it was Ginger. She had on the white shirt, khaki pants and red flats, but her face was scrubbed free of makeup, and her hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail, the long fluff of it cascading down the center of her back.

The gum was gone too.

“Who is this?” Ginger asked, eyeing her reflection.

“This is the new you!” the brunette said. “You look great. You look like every woman walking down Main Street.”

Ginger stared at herself, her expression no less than glum. “I guess.”

“Can’t be easy changing up your whole style in ten minutes,” James said.

Ginger’s eyes darted to his. “How do you think I look?”

“Like every woman walking down Main Street,” he said with a nod at the saleswoman. But that didn’t seem right in Ginger’s case. Not at all.

And weird as it was, he kind of missed her regular style. The glittery eyelids. The red lipstick. The flash and sparkle. This new Ginger was...not her. But then again, that was the point, right? She needed to look momish for a very good reason. This wasn’t a makeover. It was an intervention.

“I have an idea,” the saleswoman said. “This outfit is pretty standard. You can’t go wrong owning these pieces. But you’re not going to get used to looking completely different immediately. So why not buy it and walk around town and see for yourself how you’re regarded? And how it feels to have everyone’s unspoken approval. You’ll be back buying out the place.”

Ginger glanced at herself in the mirror again, then at the saleswoman. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can go out in public looking like this.”

James smiled. Score one for Ginger. She had moxie, that was for sure.

The saleswoman frowned. Hard. “Hello. You said you wanted to look like a mom. Now you do.”

“Can’t moms have a little pizzazz?” Ginger asked.

“Duh, the pop of red,” the other saleswoman added, pointing at Ginger’s feet.

“What do you think, James?” Ginger asked, turning to face him directly.

Three sets of eyes stared at him. “I think there’s probably a happy medium. That’s what I think.”

“What does that mean?” Ginger asked.

“It means this may not be the right clothing boutique for you,” James said. “Go change and we’ll check out the other shop in town.”

“Jazzy’s?” the brunette saleswoman said. “Hardly mom focused. I always see your sisters going into that shop and what are they, twenty-one?”

“Well, Ginger should explore all options before deciding on a look,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, she should,” Ginger added, seeming very relieved as she dashed back into the dressing room. She popped her head back out. “And I’m only twenty-four,” she said before darting back in.

Twenty-four. She was so young. With so much on her plate.

He thought back to when he was twenty-one and got the news that his father and stepmother had died in the car accident. Having to tell his siblings. Moving into the big house on Sycamore Street, his life’s plans changed in an instant from going for his MBA to being a father figure to five grieving thirteen-year-olds. He knew about having a lot on the plate. And his heart went out to her. James hadn’t been alone in the world like she was. He had Larilla and his siblings, even if most of the time the Gallagher Five had driven him batty.

He wouldn’t have survived any of it without Larilla’s guidance and babysitting help. She’d been his mother’s best friend and couldn’t stand his father, who’d been something of a playboy until he’d fallen hard for Kerry, and the quints had come along. But when his siblings had been orphaned, Larilla had always treated them with the utmost kindness and generosity.

At least Ginger had Larilla in her corner for the next three weeks. Everyone needs a Larilla.

Ginger came out of the dressing room in her regular clothes but she looked half-dressed, and it took him a moment to realize why. The lack of makeup. With her hair pulled back, it was very clear how naturally pretty she was.

“I feel so naked,” she said, popping a fresh stick of gum in her mouth.

“Don’t you always?” he asked, eyeing her skimpy outfit as he escorted her to the door.

She gave him a playful shove. “I meant because I’m not wearing any makeup. I love makeup. Have I ever left my house without my red lipstick on? I honestly don’t think so. Even to run out for an iced coffee.”

“A red lip for daytime is a bit much,” the brunette opined as James pulled open the door.

Ginger turned to her. “Honestly, miss, you’re a bit much.”

The saleswoman threw her a “how dare you” look and turned on her heel, and they left the store.

“Gonna rat me out to Madame Davenport for being rude?” Ginger asked as they headed back toward the school.

James smiled. “Is it rude to put a rude person in her place?”

“I knew I liked you,” she said, beaming at him. She linked her arm around his, and he stiffened.

She dropped her own arm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get too friendly. Not proper,” she added in an upper-crust accent.

“You just startled me,” he explained. “Let’s just say a woman hasn’t taken my arm in over a year. I’m taking a much-needed break from relationships.”

“Got your heart busted?” she asked.

“Heart, pride, my trust—all of it. I’m sure you’ve been there.”

“Actually,” she said, “I’ve never been in love. I’ve liked , I’ve seriously lusted, but loved? To the point my heart broke? Nope.”

He stared at her. “You’re lucky.”

“Lucky? I used to think something was wrong with me for not getting what all those sad songs on the radio were about. Then again, it’s not like I’d really meet the man of my dreams in Busty’s.”