Rachel watched her walk away, the words echoing in the quiet stacks.
Trust him with the truth.All of it.
Her phone buzzed. Sophie's name lit up the screen.
Sophie:Wedding dress emergency. Need your help. Can you come to the boutique on your lunch break? Ellie's having a meltdown.
Rachel:Is she okay?
Sophie:Define okay. She hates her dress alterations. Can you come? 12:30?
Rachel:I'll be there.
23
Rachel
Rachel walked into Evergreen Bridal at exactly 12:30, the bell above the door chiming softly. The shop was small but elegant, with soft lighting that made everyone look their best and racks of beautiful gowns in various shades of white and ivory.
Ellie stood on a platform in front of a three-way mirror, wearing her wedding dress and looking absolutely stunning but also like she might cry or scream or possibly both. Sophie sat in one of the plush chairs nearby, clearly in full supportive-best-friend mode.
"Rachel!" Ellie's face lit up. "Thank God. I need a neutral third-party opinion."
"What's wrong?"
"The alterations are off. Look." Ellie turned, showing the back of the dress. "The bustle is wrong. It's sitting too low. And the waist feels too tight. I can barely breathe. And I hate the veil now. I don't even know why, I just hate it."
Sophie caught Rachel's eye and mouthed:Wedding stress.
Rachel understood immediately. "Okay. Let's problem-solve.First; the dress is absolutely beautiful. You're beautiful. But if something feels wrong, we'll fix it."
Mrs. Fork, the boutique owner, appeared from the back room with pins in her mouth and a measuring tape around her neck. "I can adjust the bustle. And loosen the waist a quarter inch. That's easy to fix."
"See?" Rachel said gently. "Fixable. Now, the veil. Do you really hate the veil, or do you hate that the wedding is in one week and you're stressed about everything?"
Ellie paused. Considered. Her shoulders dropped slightly. "Both?"
"That's fair. Now let's look at veils and find one you actually love."
An hour later, the crisis had been averted. Ellie had found a new veil, simpler, more elegant, exactly right. The alterations were scheduled. And the three women sat in the boutique's consultation area, drinking champagne from delicate flutes.
"Thank you," Ellie said, looking between them. "Both of you. I don't know what I'd do without you two."
"That's what friends do," Rachel said, meaning it.
Sophie grinned, raising her glass. "We're like a friendship triangle now. Very efficient."
"Very efficient," Ellie agreed, taking a sip of champagne. Then her expression shifted. "Rachel, can I ask you something? And you can tell me to mind my own business if you want."
Rachel's stomach tightened. "Okay."
"Mac mentioned that you might know Dr. Derek Matthews. The PT who's been making all that noise about small-market teams." Ellie seemed to choose her words like they might bruise. "He said you shut down when Mac brought it up. And I… if there's something going on, if this guy coming to Vermont is going to be a problem for you, I want to help."
The blood drained from her face. Her hands tightened around her champagne flute. "Mac told you that?"
"He's worried about you. We both are." Ellie leaned forward.
"I don't want to talk about this." Rachel's voice came out sharper than intended.
