All the Colors of the Dark — Chapter 83

83

Saint had spent an hour in Miss Kline’s store on Main Street, the lady keeping the place open past business hours because she read the pleading in Norma’s eyes as Saint disappeared into the fitting room with a cream corduroy puffed-sleeve midi dress.

“I look like a tartlet.” Saint’s voice came from behind the curtain.

Miss Kline fetched a watercolor house dress.

“I can turn up looking like the birthday girl’s mother. That would be

nice.”

An abstract red psychedelic print.

“I feel a little nauseous.”

And, finally, a red and blue maxi dress with a deep V neckline.

“Do you also sell tits to fill this thing out?”

Miss Kline glanced at Norma, who gazed longingly at the door.

They settled on a black floral dress with white collar.

Saint paraded back at the tall house.

“It’s a little long,” Norma said, as Saint gathered handfuls of material to keep it from dragging on the floor.

“I’m a little short,” Saint fired back, in no kind of mood.

Saint rummaged through her grandmother’s makeup box and scowled.

“I think these have gone bad.”

“Makeup is like wine,” Norma began, stopping when Saint held up a separation of foundation from 1955.

Ten minutes later Norma fetched Mrs. Harris from across the street.

Saint took in the woman’s beehive, powder-blue eyes, and industrial makeup box and shot her grandmother a panicked look.

“Relax. Mrs. Harris does the dressing for Mr. Nathaniel,” Norma said.

Saint’s eyes widened in horror. “Mr. Nathaniel…from Monta Clare Funeral Parlor?”

Mrs. Harris pushed her back into a chair with a heavy hand. “If I can bring a corpse back to life, I can handle you.”

“And the freak show is complete,” Saint said.

“You want me to do something with this braid?”

“Yes. Leave it the fuck alone.”

“This is why I don’t work with the living.”

Twenty minutes and a couple of curse words later and Saint walked down the stairs. Her grandmother took a dozen photos as Saint fought the urge to flip the camera off.

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