Olivia Greene's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

Ty kept his word. Ryan swung a hammer by morning, and the beams came down at last. That should have eased her. Instead Olivia sat on her bed above the tavern and stared at her clothes. Two pairs of black leggings. Three crop tops. A hoodie stiff with greenhouse dust. Dinner with Ty was tomorrow night, and she had nothing to wear. She had never been on a real date. Show up in work clothes and the fragile truce with him might crack. She smoothed her only clean shirt. It smelled like mold. Her wages were gone, spent on paint and owed to Ryan for months to come. She could not buy a dress. She thought of walking in wrinkled and cheap, and her stomach turned. A knock came. Rosemary Bloom stood in the hall, a garment bag over one arm. She had been her grandmother's closest friend, the one who carried down the shears when the greenhouse first opened. Now she carried something else. "Ty asked me to fix his flowers," she said. "So I know what tomorrow is. And I know you own nothing but leggings." Olivia flushed. "I can't afford anything." "Didn't ask you to." Rosemary pushed past her and laid the bag on the bed. She pulled the zipper. Inside hung a short floral dress, every color crowded together like the wildflowers Ty had picked. A dark red leather jacket hung beside it, cropped and fitted. "Yours if it fits," Rosemary said. "Belonged to a girl who married young and never wore it twice." Olivia touched the dress. The flowers were the same ones she'd loved as a child. Soft cotton against hard leather. It was not her plain earthy self. It was bolder. "I've never worn anything like this." "That's the point." Rosemary crossed her arms. "Go on." Olivia changed behind the door. The dress fell short at her thigh. The straps were thin. She slid the jacket over her bare shoulders and turned to the mirror. Her dark hair fell against the red leather. Her freckles stood out under the flowers. She barely knew the woman looking back. "Well," Rosemary said. Her voice caught. "You look like her. Your grandmother, at your age." Olivia turned. "You're sure I can keep it?" "She'd want you to have it." Rosemary gathered the empty bag. "Wear it tomorrow. Let that boy see you." When the door closed, Olivia sat down still wearing the dress. The problem was solved. She had something to wear now, something that made her look like someone who belonged across a table from Ty. But that was the trouble. She had dressed for him as if she wanted him to look. And tomorrow he would.