Every Bride Needs a Groom (19 page)

“You sound just like Madge.”

“Well, for once I agree with her.”

“You do?”

“I do. So what if the timing isn't right? Take the dress anyway. It's yours. We want you to have it. I want you to have it.”

“You've been too good to me, Brady. You've gone above and beyond.” I tried to swallow the ever-growing lump in my throat. “This has nothing to do with Cosmopolitan Bridal. Or your mom. Or you.” I put my hand on his arm. “You've all been nothing but wonderful. But I can't take this dress, Brady. I can't.”

“You can and you will. Jordan is coming back with a photographer on July 15. Dahlia's working like crazy on the dress to meet that deadline. Don't let her work be in vain, okay? You're going to put on that dress and look like a million bucks.”

“But that's the point. I might look like a million bucks in a dress that I don't deserve, but I'll feel like a loser. If Casey saw me standing there, dressed in that gorgeous Loretta Lynn gown, he'd—”

“He'd feel like an idiot for letting you go.”

Brady's words threw me for a loop. They also gave me the first bit of encouragement I'd felt in quite some time.

“You think?” I whispered.

“No, Katie.” Brady grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I don't think. I
know
.”

As a remedy to life in society I would suggest the big city. Nowadays, it is the only desert within our means.

Albert Camus

T
wo weeks after our trip to the stockyard, I learned that Dahlia had made enough progress on the dress for me to come in for my first official fitting. When I tried to argue the point with Brady, he reminded me that I'd won the contest fair and square and had every right to try on the dress because it was meant for me. So I showed up on the last Tuesday in June to take a peek at the Loretta Lynn gown in its earliest stage of production.

Dahlia brought it to the front of the store, where she placed
it on a hanger for all to see. She hadn't added any of the ruffles or embellishments yet, but from what I could see, it was shaping up to be the prettiest gown in the place. Exactly my taste. Was it really meant for me? My heart said yes, but my conscience debated the issue.

“You want to try it on for me, Katie?” Dahlia asked. “It's going to look great on you.”

Before I had a chance to respond, however, Dahlia was distracted with a customer. “Ooh, incoming Barbie Bride,” she whispered.

“Barbie Bride?” I glanced up at the front of the store and saw a gorgeous brunette entering. She looked like a runway model. By now I should be used to all of these labels that Dahlia and the others placed on their customers, but I was not.

“Check out the hair, the makeup.” Dahlia whistled. “She's practically perfect in every way.”

“Practically perfect in every way is Mary Poppins, not Barbie,” I argued.

“Well, physically perfect. You know the type I'm talking about.” She gestured to her chest. “Curvaceous. Buxom.”

“Buxom?” Crystal giggled. “Is that a
re
-ul word?”

“Of course it's real.” Twiggy rolled her eyes. “Don't you see any buxom women in Atlanta?”

“Duh.” Crystal pointed to her own chest and we all laughed. She headed off to wait on the new customer, who'd come into the shop for a tiara. Ironic.

“I'm sure you see a lot of Barbie doll types come through the bridal shop,” I said after she left.

“Maybe not as many as you think,” Madge said. “Mostly we just get normal-shaped girls. With hips. And bellies. And saggy boobs. But you know the interesting part? Put those girls in a wedding gown and they look perfect.”

“Speaking of perfect, let's get you in that gown, Katie. Okay?” Dahlia clasped her hands together and grinned. “I can't wait to see it. And we have to take pictures to send Nadia. She called this morning and gave me specific instructions on the angles of the photos. She wants to see my seam work. Do you mind?”

“As long as no one else sees the pictures, I guess it would be okay.” I would flip out if anyone from home saw me in the gown.

The thought had no sooner flitted through my mind than the front door of the shop opened and who should walk in but my brother Jasper. Again. He took one look at Crystal, who was working at the front counter, and headed her way. I stood transfixed, watching all of this take place. He clearly hadn't noticed me or, if he had, was ignoring me.

“There's one of those handsome brothers of yours,” Dahlia said. “Come back for another visit, I see.”

“Looks like it. Give me a minute, Dahlia. I want to talk to him before I try on the dress, okay?”

“Sure.”

I walked up to the counter and stood next to Jasper. He continued to gab with Crystal but didn't seem to notice me. I cleared my throat. Nothing. I coughed. When Crystal headed off to tend to a customer, he finally looked my way.

“Hey, Katie. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Jasper, you do realize this is a bridal shop, right? A place where women come to buy their wedding dresses?”

“Well, yeah. I can see that.” He glanced around with a horrified look on his face. “Promise you won't tell Mama I was here?”

“Only if you make the same promise.”

“Trust me, mum's the word.”

Mum—er, Mom—was the word, all right.

“And if you happen to see me in a wedding gown, you won't ask any questions?”

“Wedding gown? Are you getting married? To Casey?” My brother's expression hardened.

“I didn't say that.”

“Then what Alva said is true? About you and Brady being engaged?” He leaned against the counter.

“Definitely not. He's a great guy, but I'm just getting to know him.”

“Then I'm confused. You're going to wear a wedding dress?”

“Yes. I'm going to be modeling it for a magazine cover.”

“Oh, okay. Why didn't you say so? They're paying you to model gowns now?”

“Um, no. But close.” I decided to change the subject. “Isn't Pop missing you at the store?”

“Told him I was coming into Dallas to pick up some supplies. Nothing unusual about that. I come to Dallas all the time to get supplies for the business. You know that.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Beau is holding down the fort until I get back.”

“Beau?” I laughed. “Beau? Working?”

Jasper nodded. “I know, it's hard to believe. But something's grabbed ahold of him over the past several days. He's a changed man. I've never seen him act so . . . responsible.”

“Um, Jasper?” I pointed to the door, where Beau and Dewey stood side by side. “Looks like you might want to rephrase all of that.”

“No way.” Jasper slapped himself on the forehead. “He promised he'd cover for me at the store. Pop's gonna flip.”

I took a few steps toward my brothers but didn't get to
them fast enough. Twiggy beat me. She offered to show Beau the latest order of tuxedos, fresh in from Paris. Like Beau gave a rip about tuxedos. Still, my youngest brother trotted off behind her.

Jasper had been right about one thing—something had definitely grabbed ahold of Beau. Her name was Twiggy.

And Dewey? He'd come to Dallas for one reason and one reason only . . . and she happened to be standing next to me. I watched as Dahlia's face turned the prettiest shade of crimson when Dewey talked to her. Good grief. I needed to get this train back on track, and quick.

“Dewey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Dahlia and I have to take care of something in the back.”

“You do?” Dewey looked perplexed by this. “Like what?”

“Oh, don't worry about us,” Dahlia said. “You just look around the shop and I'll be back out in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, okay?”

“Oh, I won't.” Dewey gave her a little wink and she giggled.

We had just turned to walk back to the studio when the door to the shop opened again. Dahlia stopped in her tracks, eyes widening in obvious terror.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Sybil. Incoming.” Madge's voice sounded from behind us. She reached for her walkie-talkie and whispered the words again: “Sybil. Incoming.”

“Sybil?” I asked. “Her name's Sybil?”

“Um, no.” Madge shook her head. “Her name's Francine Dubois. But she's definitely a Sybil.”

“I don't get it.”

Dahlia pulled me behind a rack of gowns, her voice lowering to a hoarse whisper. “Did you ever see the old movie
Sybil
? The one about the girl with all of those personalities?”

“Don't think so.”

“You never knew what she was going to do. She was . . . c-c-crazy.” Dahlia could barely get the word out.

“Crazy as a loon,” Madge added. “The crazy ones are harder than all the Drama Mamas and Princess Brides put together. They . . . well, you'll see.”

“Not sure I want to stick around to see,” I said.

“Too late.” Dahlia turned me around to face the door. A fairly normal-looking woman stood near the entrance of the store. She pulled off her dark sunglasses to reveal finely plucked brows and heavily painted eyes. Crystal headed her way, offering assistance.

I shrugged. “Seems okay to me.”

“Just. Wait,” Dahlia whispered as she gestured for me to move out from behind the rack. “Give it ten minutes.”

Fortunately—or unfortunately—it didn't take ten minutes. Judging from the minute hand on my watch, it took exactly four. Miss Sweet as Sugar flipped out on Crystal at the four-minute mark, completely changing personalities. At the five-minute mark, she began to weep uncontrollably. At the seven-minute mark, she'd dried her tears and was inviting all of us to her ceremony. At the nine-minute mark, she threatened Madge with a lawsuit.

“Oh. My. Goodness.” I wanted to run for the door, afraid of what might come next.

Fortunately, Madge appeared to have a special anointing for dealing with the Sybil bride. She not only managed to talk the emotional nightmare down from the ledge but also gave her a discount on a pair of shoes. But the one who really seemed to know how to handle her best, ironically, was Brady. He somehow got her redirected when she lost it, and had her smiling by the time she left the store.

Wow.

When the Sybil incident ended, Dahlia and I were finally free to head back to the fitting room. Even as she helped me into the Loretta Lynn gown—what there was of it so far, anyway—I could tell that Dahlia would rather be out in the store, visiting with Dewey. Thankfully, my oohs and aahs must've brought her back to reality.

“You like?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm.” I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Even without the embellishments—the lace, the crystals, the ruffles—the gown looked amazing. Dahlia still had a bit of work to do to get the bust to fit, but she assured me that would not be an issue. She reached for her phone and snapped several photos of me in the gown, which she planned to send to Nadia right away.

I gave a little twirl and examined myself in the mirror. The length of the train was just perfect—not too short, not too long. I could see myself walking down the aisle in this dress. Someday. If I ever found a groom.

Stop it, Katie. Just smile and say
thank you. That's what Madge would want.

So I smiled. And said thank you.

Dahlia looked as if she was about to respond when Madge showed up at the fitting room door. “I hate to bother you, but we have an incoming 9-1-1.”

“Oh dear.” Dahlia looked my way, her eyes wide. “Do you mind, Katie?”

“Well, no, but what in the world—”

Dahlia took off in a hurry, with no explanation whatsoever.

“9-1-1?” I turned to Madge. “Are you calling for an ambulance?”

“Oh, no, honey. That's not what I meant at all. A 9-1-1 is an overly emotional bride. In this case it's a sweet girl whose father
passed away just a couple of months ago. He won't be there to walk her down the aisle, so the dress fitting is going to be an emotional roller coaster for the bride and her mother. Dahlia knows just how to handle it, trust me. She's been through this dozens of times. One of the services we provide is counseling. It's not on the résumé, but we do it.”

“Wow, Madge.” Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought about that poor bride and her situation.

“People think the wedding gown biz is all glitz and glam, but they don't see the hard parts.” Madge took a seat on the cushioned bench. “We're half counselor, half wedding gown expert, half BFF.”

“That's three halves,” I said.

“Yep. Which is why it takes so many of us working together to accomplish anything. But you know what? I'm grateful for open doors.”

“Open doors?”

“Sure.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I never married. Never had kids to pour myself into. When these brides come in, the Lord opens a door for conversation, and sometimes—if I'm not feeling like a sourpuss—he uses me to offer a bit of encouragement.”

“Oh, Madge.” I slipped my arm over her shoulder. “You're a softie inside of that hard shell, aren't you?”

“Shh.” She put her finger to her lips. “Don't give away my secret. Around here, folks think I'm a drill sergeant.”

“One with the sweetest disposition in town.” Brady's voice sounded from the hallway outside the open fitting room door.

“Better get back to work, boss.” She rose and saluted him. Brady pulled her into an embrace and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I should be the one saluting you, you know. You've got that drill sergeant act down pat.”

“It's just an illusion, my boy. Just an illusion.”

She headed to the front of the store, which left me alone with Brady. It felt a little odd to be standing here in a wedding gown now that the other ladies had ditched me. I couldn't even figure out how to get out of the crazy thing without their help. Not that I wanted to. I felt like a princess, and all the more when I saw the admiring look in Brady's eyes.

“You look amazing, Katie. Gorgeous.”

His flattery tickled my ears and made me feel a little giddy. Just as quickly, I felt like a traitor. I pictured myself standing in Casey Lawson's kitchen as he broke up with me. The emotions of that moment flooded over me even now, and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

“You okay, Katie?” Brady's voice shook me out of my reverie.

“I . . . I think I'm just emotional. Hearing about that 9-1-1 bride really got to me. You guys are a lot more than a bridal shop, Brady.”

“Agreed.” He nodded.

“I think Madge opened my eyes. This is a ministry for all of you. It's a place to reach out to people who are going through stuff.”

“That's my prayer every single day, that God will bring exactly the right people here so that we can bless them. Most of the time they end up blessing us too. Like you, Katie.”

“Me?”

“Sure. Everyone has loved having you here, and you've definitely brought out the softer side of Madge.” He gave me a knowing look. “Maybe you should be in the wedding business.”