Trey grinned. “So brave.”
I shot him a death glare.
Aunt Phee sniffed and stroked her dog. “Such a fuss over a little bite. You must have frightened her.”
“I rescued her,” I protested.
Our mother’s mouth was compressed, a sure sign of annoyance. But her hands were gentle as she wrapped my thumb. “Bites get infected. You need to keep it clean. Change the dressing every day.”
I regarded the bandage ruefully. “At least it’s blue.”
Meg smiled encouragingly. “It matches your bridesmaid dress.”
“What bridesmaid dress?” Jo asked.
Oops. I looked at Meg.
Jo crossed her arms. “You guys. We agreed. No frills.”
“Please,” I said. “I don’t do frilly.”
“They’re not exactly bridesmaid dresses,” Meg said. “They’re totally different styles. We just thought it would be nice to coordinate our colors.”
“Blue,” Jo said, like she was tasting it in her mouth.
“Tarheel blue or Blue Devil blue?” Trey asked, naming the colors of the big rival Carolina schools.
“Different shades,” I said. I’d pored over my swatch cards, choosing and comparing, texting photos back and forth with Meg and Beth. But now was not the time to get into an explanation of the Pantone palette system.
“We were going to tell you,” Meg said.
“It’s okay,” Jo said. Being a good sport. “I told you all you could wear whatever. I want everybody to be comfortable.”
“It’s a wedding,” Aunt Phee said. “You’re not meant to be comfortable. That’s why God invented Spanx.”
“I’m pretty sure that was Satan,” Jo said.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your dress.”
“If you can call it a dress. Looks like a beach cover-up to me. She found it at the thrift shop,” Phee added in deep, disapproving tones.
“She looks fine,” our mother said.
“Beautiful,” said Eric.
I took a deep breath. “So, the thing is... I brought something for you. A dress. It’ll have to be fitted, of course, but—”
“Wait. You bought me a wedding dress?”
I had a degree in fashion design from NC State. “I made you a dress. Sort of a wedding present.” Or a guilt offering. Whatever.
“Seriously? Wow. That’s...” Jo hesitated, at an apparent loss for words.
“Very thoughtful,” our mother said firmly.
Jo nodded.
“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” Meg said.
