“Ever heard of folding?” she drawled as he dumped the laundry he’d left on the couch into his suitcase.
“Folding is for suckers.” Luke pointed to himself with a thumb. “And I ain’t no sucka.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “I suppose we should be glad that you actually washed them first.”
“Who said I washed them first, Nurse Jackie?” Luke asked, batting his eyelashes at her.
She opened her mouth to retort, but I jumped in. “I can assure you, he did wash them.”
“Why ya gotta bust me out like that, Meg?” Luke replied, grinning at me. “I wanted Judgey the Nurse to think I was gonna take dirty clothes to Nashville.”
“How long will you be gone?” Ellie asked him, taking a small sip of her wine.
“Six nights.”
“Oh, so not long enough then,” she shot back.
“Just long enough to get a record deal out of it.” He gave her a smug smile and zipped up his suitcase.
Jeremy and I exchanged exasperated looks. “Don’t worry,” I said to Jeremy. “They’re always like this.”
“I’m done packing,” Luke announced before Jeremy could reply. “And Remington and I are off to play one last round of poker with the guys before I leave in the morning.”
I shook my head and pushed my glasses up my nose. “Don’t beat them all too badly.”
“I’ve got to. I need cash for my trip,” Luke said.
“You use poker games as your ATM machine?” Ellie sneered.
“I never thought of it quite that way before but yes, I suppose I do,” Luke replied. “Easier than earning it the old-fashioned way.”
“You mean by actually working,” Ellie said.
Luke shrugged. “I’m working. I’m using my brain to make money. What’s wrong with that?”
“Break it up, you two,” I finally said.
Jeremy pulled Luke toward the front door. I gave him a grateful look before turning to my best friend. “Ellie, come upstairs with me. I need to start packing too.”
“’Kay,” Ellie said. “I’m tired of trading insults with Rockabilly anyway.”
“Don’t miss me too much, Hoffman,” Luke said as we started up the stairs to my bedroom. “Meg, wait.”
I paused on the third stair while Ellie continued to the top of the staircase. Luke came jogging over to me, leaving Jeremy waiting by the front door.
“I’m leaving for the airport early tomorrow so I probably won’t see you before I go.” Luke rested his palms on the tops of my shoulders. “Don’t let ‘em give you any crap over there.”
I frowned. “Who?” I glanced at Jeremy, whose hands were folded in front of him. He was conspicuously looking at the rug in front of the door.
“Dr. Strangelove and Megan Fox,” Luke replied.
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t entirely sure what my brother was getting at, but I had a feeling he was being sweet and brotherly and I did not want to cry.
“I just mean that you explain away bad behavior sometimes. Don’t do it. Give them hell, not the other way around,” Luke said.
“Got it, Luke.” I nodded, tears springing to my eyes regardless.
“Aww,” Ellie said from above us. “That was actually sweet. If I didn’t know any better, I might not think you were such a deadbeat after that speech, Rockabilly.”
“Shut it, Hoffman,” Luke growled, not looking at her.
I patted Luke on the shoulder, and continued up the stairs. Once Ellie and I reached my bedroom, I made my way over to my closet and pulled out my small roller bag and my giant going-someplace-for-ten-days mama suitcase. I wouldn’t be in England for ten whole days, but the Regency costumes necessitated the use of the serious luggage. I pulled both empty suitcases over to my bed and hauled them up. Then I went back to the closet to gather all of the Regency clothing that I’d been working on for the last year. Arms full, I waddled over to the bed and deposited it all on the mattress next to the suitcases. Seeing it altogether in one spot like that made me realize how much hard work it had been. I’d made all the clothing by hand so it would be more authentic. I’d spent hours and hours sewing, pricked my fingers countless times. I’d drawn blood, even. I deserved to go to this competition and have a shot at winning. Harrison, Lacey, and Dr. Holmes could suck it.
“You don’t have to wear a corset, do you?” Ellie asked, eyeing the pile of clothing warily.
“No. Women in the Regency wore stays, not corsets, and I’m only wearing one of those to the costume portion because I’m convinced that Mr. Periwinkle will be able to tell if I’m not. But I draw the line at not wearing underwear.”
“Who’s Mr. Periwinkle?” she asked, gingerly picking up one of the gowns and studying it. “And why would you be in danger of not wearing underwear?”
I grinned. I loved to share impromptu and surprising historical tidbits when the occasion arose. “Mr. Periwinkle is the English tailor who’s judging the costume competition, and Regency women went around, er, quite “free and clear” down there beneath their shifts.”
Ellie’s eyes looked like they might bug from her skull. “Are you serious?”
“Entirely.” I sorted through the clothing. I would put the gowns in the suitcase in the order I intended to wear them so they’d be lined up for steaming once we got to Bath.
“Wow. That’s surprising,” Ellie replied. “I always thought they were a bunch of prudes who covered it all up.”
I laughed. “You’re thinking of the Victorians. The Regency people wouldn’t show an ankle or touch a gloveless hand, but thought nothing of being panty-less.”
“Those sneaks.” She laughed and shook her head, then held up the silver gown I’d wear for the ball on the final night. “This is so pretty, Megs. You’re really talented.”
My mom had taught me to sew when I was a kid. At the time it had been a necessity because we couldn’t afford to buy new clothes for the school year. I spent my summers sewing. It turned out to be a handy skill for a Regency re-enactor.
“Thank you,” I said, curtsying. “I only hope these clothes are good enough to win.”
Ellie ran her hand over the embroidery on the gown. “You’re going to win, Meg. I have faith in you.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to Harrison and Lacey, or Dr. Holmes for that matter.”
“I don’t need to tell them,” Ellie said, carefully laying the gown back on the bed. “They’ll find out soon enough when they see you holding the trophy. There is a trophy, right?”
“God, I hope so. I’ve already cleared a space for it on my shelf at the office.”
Ellie smiled and shook her head. “That’s what I love about you, Megs. You’re so confident and smart and hardworking. If only you would be that way about everything you love to do.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Ellie gave me a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Uh, writing your historical romance novel.”
Crap. I’d made a classic mistake, giving Ellie an opening to give me grief about not starting my historical romance.