I briefly considered tricking him into coming to the store but ruled it out. It was like the rings thing. Would seeing the bride in her wedding dress really stop a wedding? Probably not, especially since Jesse and his mom, Charlotte, didn’t believe in those superstitions.
They moved to Pleasure Point when I was in middle school. A talented seamstress, Charlotte opened Charlotte’s Bridal on Aphrodite Avenue. People came from all over the country to buy a dress she created. She had the bridal store long before Pleasure Point decided on the wedding destination rebrand. Although, come to think of it, maybe that led to the decision? I’d have to ask Dad about that one.
I walked around the corner and nearly ran into a group of tourists headed for a picnic at the Pleasure Point Gazebo. I shook it off, steeled myself for Charlotte’s overwhelming bridal-ness, and pushed open the front door, bells tinkling overhead to alert people to my arrival.
“Velcomein!” Charlotte muttered in her French accent around a mouthful of pins. Her back was to the door as she worked on another bride’s hem.
A mannequin dressed in a simple yet stunning gown stood proudly in the front window, twinkling fairy lights wrapping around it like a soft embrace. Rows of dresses, each a masterpiece in its own right, swayed gently on delicate satin hangers, from extravagant ball gowns straight out of a fairy tale to sleek, modern silhouettes that exuded sophistication.
The dresses had no price tags because they were custom, one-of-a-kind creations. If you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. Another reason I thought bridal gowns were a ridiculous custom - not that I’d ever tell my best friend’s mom that.
In the heart of the shop, the central fitting pedestal awaited, encircled by a wall of mirrors that captured every angle. It could also block the bride from the windows so a curious groom wouldn’t catch a glimpse of his intended and jinx their nuptials.
A tray of champagne, red wine, and sparkling water captured my attention, and I made a beeline for the wine.
I grabbed a glass, took a sip, and turned to see True emerge from the dressing room. A hush fell over the crowd, punctuated by my nearly choking on my wine.
She was a bridal angel. There was no other way to describe it.
Her curly blonde hair framed her cherubic face. A creamy white expanse of silk draped over her voluptuous figure, with tiny hand-stitched pearls creating intricate patterns of waves from her chest to the floor. The garment was strapless, all the better to show off her strong shoulders and muscular upperarms. The hem pooled around her feet in a small train that would look gorgeous in pictures.
She looked like she stepped right off her own wedding cake.
How was I going to compete with that?
“Kendra! You made it!” True gathered up her train and shuffled over to me. She hugged me, and my wine glass precariously tipped to the side. For a moment, I considered letting it go and drenching her wedding dress in red wine all down the backside. It would look like Shark Week came early. Or an autopsy. A firm hand grabbed the wine glass and pulled it from my fingertips.
“And you brought your fiancé!” True exclaimed, pulling back to smile at Rowan and me.
Rowan.
I was startled at his sudden appearance. I hadn’t heard the bells over the door. Was he taking lessons from my stealth brother now? “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
Another hush fell over the crowd.
Rowan laughed and pulled me into a side hug. “Isn’t she spicy? I love that about her.” He pressed a kiss to my temple.
True pressed her hands to her heart. “You give me such hope. I love this for both of you.” She then glided -yes, glided- I don’t think she walks on the ground like mere mortals anymore; she simply floats wherever she wants. Which, in this instance, was over to the central fitting pedestal.
“Kendra, darling!” Charlotte marched up to me with the fierce determination of an Army general. “You made it! Truette said you would attend. And is this the handsome fiancé she was talking about?Oui? She did not do him justice! I am Charlotte Barbot. Mother of the groom and bridal gown creator.”
Rowan gently lifted Charlotte’s tiny hand in his and kissed the back of her hand. “Enchanté, madame. Je m'appelle Rowan. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer.”
I heard ovaries explode all over the bridal shop as he introduced himself and said it was nice to meet her. A little drool might have escaped my mouth, not that anyone noticed, with Rowan at the center of attention. I cleared my throat. “You speak French?”
“Assez pour être dangereux.” He smirked at me. “Enough to be dangerous.”
“Dangereux pour les dames, c'est sûr,” Charlotte purred at him, then turned to the rest of us. “Dangerous to the ladies. To be sure.”
All the ladies in the shop tittered as they batted their eyelashes at Rowan.
I’d never seen Charlotte ruffled like this. A blush darkened the Frenchwoman’s ebony cheeks as she fanned herself with her free hand.This was getting ridiculous. I gently pried her hand out of Rowan’s. “Okay, loverboy. French lessons are over. Charlotte has work to do.”
Charlotte giggled as she picked up her pins and walked toward the dais. “Don’t beridicule.A handsome man is always welcome in my shop unless he is my ex-husband. God rest his soul.”
“He died?” Rowan asked.
“Non. But if that bastard steps foot in Pleasure Point, he will be dead!” Charlotte fake spat on the floor. “At my hands. I have strong scissors in the back.”
