“You’re right,” Cindy said, surprising her. “Let me text Shannon right now.”
She dutifully typed on her phone and waited. Seconds later, there was a response.
She smiled. “Shannon says I should absolutely go, as long asI promise not to buy anything. She also saysthank you.” Cindy looked at her. “That was to you. For being so nice.”
“I’m not nice,” Victoria said automatically. “You can ask my mom.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. Ava thinks you’re amazing.”
She held in a snort, confident her mother could come up with a dozen words to describe her and not a single one of them would beamazing.
The decision made, they piled into Cindy’s car and drove the short distance to the fancy bridal store on Wilshire Boulevard. Once they were inside, Victoria felt very much out of place and underdressed. The ceilings were high, the lighting flattering. Dresses were on display, but more than that, actual wedding tableaux were everywhere. There was an entire room devoted to Mother of the Bride dresses, along with elegant hats and veils and impossibly high shoes.
Victoria eyed the heels with distaste. Despite her lack of height, she rarely wore them in real life, mostly because she frequently had to wear them for work. Idiot writers and directors were forever putting their female actors in heels while forcing them to run from bad guys or jump off buildings—aka stunts she had to perform. Nobody made the guys do that. They got to wear sensible boots or athletic shoes. The inherent misogyny was so...
She put on the mental brakes and returned her attention to the reason she was looking at high heels. Right—wedding-gown shopping with a friend.
Cindy gave her name to the receptionist because, yes, the store had one, then they waited.
“I’m nervous,” Cindy whispered.
Victoria leaned in close. “Me, too, and I’m not the one getting married. This place is fancy.”
Cindy’s face fell. “Is it too much? Should we leave?”
Victoria linked arms to keep her from bolting. “Absolutely not! You need to do this. Even if you don’t find the dress ofyour dreams, you have to take the first step. Just try on a couple and see how you feel.”
Before she could say anything else, a tall, elegant sales associate approached. “Cindy, how lovely to meet you. I’m Angelina.” She turned to Victoria with a warm smile. “And you are?”
“Family friend,” Victoria said easily, then waved one of her crutches. “The klutzy family friend.”
“You’re not klutzy,” Cindy said, instantly distracted from her nervousness to defend her. “She’s a stuntwoman. There was a truck and a whole thing.”
Angelina wasn’t impressed. “How unfortunate,” she murmured. “Now, to the dresses. I’ve pulled several for you to consider. Thank you for sending over your measurements. Most of our samples will fit well enough to give you an idea of what you’d like.” She motioned to a wall of dressing rooms. “You’d said something about a princess dress?” Her tone was doubtful.
Cindy seemed to cringe. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m probably too old, but I’ve had a dream about wearing a princess dress at my wedding since I was a little girl.”
Angelina’s smile tightened. “Of course. I understand. And this is a first wedding for you?”
Victoria hadn’t really been paying that much attention to the dynamics. She’d been too busy thinking this was the kind of store her mother would love, with its elegant lighting and hushed, important air. Frankly, it gave her hives, but whatever. But when she started to hear a little judgment in old Angelina’s attitude, her senses went on alert. Whether or not Victoria got the whole princess-dress thing didn’t matter. If that was what a paying customer wanted to try on, then it was Angelina’s job to make that happen—no snark allowed.
Victoria stepped between the two women and faced the sales clerk. “She needs to have a princess dress to try on. Maybe two. Cindy’s tall and pretty. She has the body to carry that off. On me, well, let’s just be clear that I’d look like the fairy godmotherfrom the originalCinderellamovie. Not a great look. But this isn’t about me or you. It’s about Cindy.”
Victoria didn’t channel her inner Ava very often, but she knew all the lines by heart and could absolutely replicate her mother when the situation called for it. Not that she would confess the truth to anyone, but she was kind of proud of how Angelina tried to stare her down only to cave in about twenty seconds.
“Of course,” the sales clerk murmured. “I have two for her to try, along with a few other styles.”
“Excellent.” Victoria smiled at Cindy, who looked surprised.
“I could have held my own with her,” she whispered. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not my mother’s daughter for nothing.”
Twenty minutes later Cindy was wearing a very princessy wedding gown. It was white and quite fluffy in the skirt. The bodice was fitted to the waist, then layers and layers of fabric spilled down to the floor. Victoria stared at her, trying to figure out what was wrong. In theory Cindy had the height and body to carry it off, but somehow it was just kind of blah.
“It’s awful,” Cindy said, staring at her reflection. “I don’t understand. Am I too old? Too fat? Is it the color?”
“Stop,” Victoria told her, hobbling around the dais, getting different views of the dress. “You’re not too old or fat. You’re beautiful and tall and perfectly thin. But yeah, that is not the look for you.” She squinted, trying to see it from a different perspective. “Maybe if the skirt wasn’t as full.”
