I nodded in agreement. "I've never really wanted a huge traditional wedding," I admitted. "I like the idea of something small with just friends and family."
"Do you want to try on the others?" she asked.
"No, this is the one."
The stylist came into the dressing area with another dress on her arm but stopped short. "Oh, you look beautiful in that."
"We're going to take it," my mother said.
The stylist took the additional dresses to a discard rack and put them aside. "I don't blame you. I doubt we have anything that would look as lovely as that on her. Would you like to buy some shoes to go with it?"
"Do you have any sandals or something without a closed-toe?" I asked. I was already envisioning what I wanted, white strappy sandals with a two- or three-inch heel and maybe a little satin bow on the ankle or toe. It would keep with the clean, simple lines of the dress and I could always dye them and wear them again.
"Definitely. Do you have something specific in mind?"
I described to her what I wanted and she smiled. "Oh, I think we have just the thing."
She asked my size and disappeared for a few minutes. When she returned, she carried a single box, which surprised me. When it came to the dress, she'd brought several selections then gone back for more.
When she opened the box and pulled out the shoes, I smiled. With the exception of the pale pink hue, they were exactly what I'd described, but with small pink rhinestones in the center of the tiny bows. The bows were set on the outside of the thin strap that went across my toes.
"I realize they're pink, but everything else about them fits what you said, so I took a chance."
"I'll try them," I said, taking the first shoe from her.
I put the shoes on and went to stand in front of the three-way mirror against the wall.
With the soft lights surrounding the glass, my image looked dreamy and radiant. In the light, the pink of the shoes looked darker, but somehow it worked together.
"They're perfect," I said.
Whitney, the stylist, smiled and clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I'm so glad we could help you find what you were looking for!"
After I'd changed back into my regular clothes, my mother had insisted on paying for the dress and shoes. When I'd tried to argue, she said, "This may be your only wedding and I want to pay for it, even if it isn't a huge event."
That shut my mouth, not just because she obviously cared about it, but because she seemed to think I was either going to stay married to J.J. for the rest of my life or because she never expected me to marry again if...no, when, he and I divorced.
There was a twinge in my chest at the thought and I took a deep breath. But there still wasn't enough air.
I tried to take another deep breath, but my lungs still felt tight.
The world grayed around the edges and I tried to take another breath.
"Oh, dear," the stylist said, noticing my distress. "Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need some water?"
Mom looked at me, her eyes sharp and concerned. "Let's sit down for a minute, Lee."
I let her guide me to a chair and vaguely heard her say something to Whitney about water.
After the woman walked off, Mom turned back to me. "Okay, Lee, just slow down a minute and focus on that first breath, slow and easy. In through your nose and out through your mouth."
I did what she said, inhaling slowly even though my impulse was to gulp for air.
"Good. Again."
I repeated the process five more times before my breathing returned to normal.
"Better," Mom murmured. "That was a doozy." I glanced at her in askance and she continued, "I think you just had a panic attack."
