“I’m sure we can fix it,” I said, and then, in sudden inspiration, I took my phone from my pocket and called the only person I knew who might be able to do any kind of repair.
Since Aunt DeeDee was planning to see us later that evening at the store on Main Street that houses her designs, she answered with a festive hello. I dampened her enthusiasm with my explanation of our situation before handing the phone to Lacy. Though I could only hear one side of the conversation, I was certain that Aunt DeeDee’s soothing reassurances were the reason that Lacy wasn’t going into full-blown panic mode.
As Lacy spoke into the phone, she ran a hand over the dress she’d selected for her big day. “It looks like six—no, seven—of the buttons are gone, but the bigger problem is the tear.” She paused, sniffling. “Maybe a foot long? And not along a seam. It looks like someone just took a knife and cut at a diagonal.” The tears started again. “You can? Are you sure?” A heavy sigh. “I can send you a picture… A sash might work, but it would have to be pretty big… Uh-huh, as long as it’s tasteful.” Lacy let go of the dress andwiped an eye. “Okay, thanks, DeeDee, I appreciate it.” She handed the phone back to me and her shoulders released.
On the other end of the line, Aunt DeeDee caught me up quickly. She was going to stay at the shop for tonight—“Because you can’t let this ruin the whole weekend”—but she was going to make a call to a friend in Richmond who was an even better seamstress than her. First thing tomorrow morning, they would meet at The Rose while we were still sleeping and fix the dress.
“You tell her not to worry about a thing,” Aunt DeeDee said right before we hung up. “And you keep an eye out for more trouble.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, before pressing the phone to my chest and turning to Lacy. “Give me one sec, okay?”
Lacy’s expression was confused but, too tired to argue, she agreed and sank into the couch that Bella had been hiding behind.
I made my way into the hall and checked around the corner to make sure no one else was around. When I was sure I was alone, I spoke again.
“I know who did this,” I whispered into the phone.
Aunt DeeDee inhaled sharply.
“I’m almost positive that it was Anton’s ex. Her name is Bella, and she arrived uninvited.” I stopped and reconsidered my phrasing. “Actually, Anton’s mother invited her, but he and Lacy had no idea—and everyone showed up a day early. And now two of Anton’s cousins and this Bella lady are part of the bachelorette party, and I’m supposed to entertain them and somehow hold this night together so Lacy doesn’t have to worry. This is such a mess.”
I could almost see my aunt’s mind quickly piecing together the information I’d just handed her.
“Okay, baby doll. Here’s what you do: you and Lacy head out to tonight’s planned festivities, and I’ll make sure that each of the places knows to expect three additions to the party.”
“But—” I started to protest, to say that I didn’t want these other women anywhere near Lacy, but Aunt DeeDee anticipated my concerns.
“You remember what your momma always said about enemies?”
The words came back to me in a flash, Momma standing in the doorway of my bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, a hand on her hip, as she gave me advice on how to handle the upcoming Future Farmers of America competition. I was in tenth grade, and I’d been whining about how hard it was to work with some of the other girls on our biggest project of the year—hatching and raising chicks from egg to full-grown chicken. The three other girls—who I suddenly recalled had included Will’s wife, Valerie—and I had been fighting from day one about everything, from the exact temperature for incubation to which seed to feed them.
“Those girls aren’t your enemy, Dakota,” Momma had said, her head tilted as she looked at me with a smile that said she wished I could see what she saw in me. “Just pull them in a little tighter, and I bet you’ll see that they want the exact same things you do. You’re just going about it different ways.”
I’d considered her logic. I supposed that my group members did want to raise healthy chickens that we could present at the show. I supposed they didn’t want to fail. I supposed they did want to win first place.
“At the end of the day we have more in common with each other—even with people we think are our enemies—than we can imagine,” I mumbled into the phone now, remembering Momma’s words with the exact intonation she’d used. She’d been right about the competition, too—though we’d taken second place, that was pretty good out of ten other competitors.
But I didn’t have the same faith in human nature this time around. Maybe I’d seen too much.
“That’s right,” Aunt DeeDee said.
“But this woman slashed my best friend’s dress. How in the world could she—or Anton’s mother—have the same goals as Lacy and me? I want Lacy to get married. They want to ruin the wedding.”
Aunt DeeDee was silent and all I heard across the linewas the click of her tongue as she thought for a long moment before finally speaking. “But why would they want to ruin the wedding?”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to follow her line of thinking. “Because they hate Lacy,” I said, before remembering what Bella had said—something about not even knowing Lacy. In her mind, this wasn’t personal. I changed my answer. “Because they want to be happy.”
“Exactly,” Aunt DeeDee said. “You may just need to convince them that there’s a better way to find their own happiness—without involving Anton or Lacy.”
“That’s an impossible mission.”
“Your momma always did love the impossible.” Aunt DeeDee chuckled down the line. “She was a better person than me, even though I sit my booty in the church pew every week. So if all else fails, you can follow my advice: Love your enemies to death—even if it kills you.”
ELEVEN
Lacy and I started back down the hall, both of us relieved that Aunt DeeDee was on the job.
“It sounds like Anton is trying,” I said, hoping my tone was optimistic enough, even though it came out more like a question. I supposed I wanted Lacy to say whether or not she felt like Anton was really hearing her concerns. Even as a bystander, I could see all of the dysfunction of his family. It was like a neon sign flashing: PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE, MANIPULATIVE, INSECURE.
