Her request was blunt but not entirely surprising given our situation. The terms of our agreement, the legally binding contract, dictated what was once solely mine was now to be shared.
I’d gladly signed.
“You can have anything you want,” I assured her, already anticipating her next words.
“Perfect.” A bright smile spread across her face. “My sister is going to start planning the wedding, and she wanted me to come into her shop sometime on Friday. She’s adamant about fitting me for a dress.”
“A dress?”
“Yeah. You’ll like this one.”
“I’m sure.”
As I settled back with the morning paper and a steaming cup of coffee, determined to solve the crossword, Rosalie continuedto ramble on about the details of the dress and why she had to have it, almost as if she were trying to justify wanting it. The wedding dress had more than 143 buttons on the back, and twenty on each sleeve. There was no other like it, and apparently, it would take weeks to make.
I wondered how expensive a dress could be.
Not that it mattered. As I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushed against the smooth, glossy surface of the card. I placed the Amex card on the table before her, the metallic black sheen catching the light.
“Thank you,” she said, tracing the edges of the card with her fingertips. Before I could respond, she’d already started to talk about what heels she’d get.
Finishing the puzzle, I placed it down on the table and listened to her. I didn’t understand her language much. Something about fabrics—chiffon, I think. I didn’t know, but I liked it when she talked to me like this.
In fact, I liked it so much I was an hour late to my meeting, and I was never late.
CHAPTER 32
ROSALIE
Daisy had spent the past few days pestering me relentlessly about dresses and all the intricacies of planning that needed to be addressed. Every conversation with her seemed to circle back to the perfect shade of fabric or the most flattering cut for my figure—topics she seemed endlessly excited about.
I wasn’t thrilled about the wedding, but I was excited about the dress. After all, I needed an event to wear it to.
The bell above the door chimed softly as I stepped into Daisy’s shop, the sound familiar from my childhood. Grandma Esme would babysit us when we were younger, and Daisy and I would always play dress-up, completely unaware of how expensive the fabric was.
Offering a weak smile to Mary, the woman sitting behind the marble front desk, I made my way to the back. Every corner was filled with neat fabrics, delicate lace, and complicated beadwork, just like it had been all those years ago.
Grandma sat in her usual corner by the large bay window, her arthritic hands busy sorting through a small box of vintage buttons. Despite the pain, her eyes still glared with the samepassion for weddings that had put her on the map. She glanced up and smiled warmly at me.
“Hi, baby girl! Did Daisy drag you out here?” she asked.
A few of our cousins were scattered around the shop, helping Grandma with various tasks. Katie was meticulously organizing fabric swatches by color, her attention to detail almost as sharp as Daisy’s.
“Yes,” I said with a groan. Everyone knew how dreadful it was to have Daisy plan their wedding. She loved weddings and would never shut up.
“Sorry you got roped into that.”
“Rosalie!” Daisy called out, spotting me from across the room. “Can you come hold this fabric for a second?”
I made my way over to her, weaving through the organized chaos Daisy liked to call “the back room.” She was in the middle of measuring a length of ivory silk, her hands steady and sure. I held the fabric in place, watching as she threaded a needle and began to make a few stitches.
“Thanks,” she said, not daring to look up from her work. “I’ve got a bride coming in this afternoon, and I need to finish this hem.”
“No problem,” I replied.
“While you wait for me to finish, have Grandma take you to the front. I want you to pick out seven dresses—and before you groan and complain, yes, you will be trying them all on.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
