Good Girls Have Secrets

Chapter 8

Many times, I've felt awkward, out place in a group, but this is so much worse. Looking around the clinic waiting room, I see a variety of women. Some ladies are so pregnant that they walk leaning back, as though they don't want to fall on their enormous bellies. Others probably here for their yearly exam. My mother insisted I see a doctor with good references, since she couldn't be here with me to evaluate the information. So here I am.

Aunt Beth offered to come with me. I considered it for about a second before I told her it would be too humiliating to have her in the room. Watching her completely deflate, made me feel guilty, but not enough to let her come. I can do this on my own. I'm nineteen years old after all.

Hearing my name, I head towards a nurse, who leads me into an exam room.  Looking at the stirrups tucked neatly into the table, I'm grateful Dr. Merrill is a woman. Why do they use those humiliating things? There must be a better way.

Forty-five minutes later, I find myself strolling by the hospital nursery. Looking at row after row of bassinets, I think about how one little bundle changes a person's entire life.

Leaning in to look at the babies, a woman with long pale blonde hair gives me a small smile. Admiring her heather gray Lululemon jacket and Cariuma rose suede sneakers. Giving her an approving smile, I ask, "Where did you find your shoes? I've never seen that color?"

"I saw them when I was at market in Georgia last fall.  I had to have them. " Turning, she sticks out her hand, "I'm Isabella. You like to admire newborn babies too?"

Telling her my name, I glance at the babies, "Actually, they terrify me. How do people know what to do with them?" I pause, "Do you have kids?" 

Her eyes dim, "No, I volunteer here every week. I gets me away from work."

Curious, I ask "What do you do?"

"I own a little boutique close to here in West Des Moines. You should come by sometime. I think we have similar taste." 

Shopping calms me; I could use some new things. "That sounds great. Can you give me the name and address?"

Digging in her leather bag, she pulls out a card. "I'm actually heading there right now. If you're not busy, you could come by."

Now would be as good a time as any, since I'm already here. I plug the address into my phone, showing her to make sure it's correct. Giving me the okay, we plan to meet there in twenty minutes.

Isabella's store is closer than I expected. A simple sign written in large black letters reads Light Strand. Parking out front, I admire the white windows in combination with the farmhouse black double doors and robin's egg blue building. Making a note that says, the perfect color combination for my design project, I snap a quick picture of the store, to help me remember.

Inside, I spot Isabella through the French doors, hanging her jacket and hat on the old coat rack tucked in the corner. Looking around, the inside of the store feels like a place I'd like to hang out. Smelling freesia and admiring the tufted white loveseat close to the cash register, I imagine owning my own store.

The well-placed lighting gives a decorative effect without being overpowering. Along with racks of clothes, she's intermixed bags, necklaces, hats, and shoes. I notice a simple transition to books, furniture, and home accessories at the other end of the store. She's packed a lot into the space, without making it feel crowded. It's all so inviting.

"What do you think?" Isabella's heels click on the wood floor as she walks towards me. "I've only been open for a little over a year."

"If I opened a shop, it would be just like this." I don't say that to flatter her. I mean it.