“True,” Betzy agreed. Camila, James’ new wife, was easygoing, generous, and a little feisty as well. The perfect match for her younger brother.
Betzy sighed as she thought over the last few months. Attending that wedding, witnessing the magic of their love, it fanned that deep fear within her. One that had been there for years.
Sure, she got to slip into wedding gowns at her grandmother’s boutique each time a shipment her size came in, but that was just for the online catalog. The truth was, Betzy feared that herownwedding day might never come.
After all, how often had Mom told hernotto pursue a big career? How many times had the woman drilled it into her head:Men don’t want a woman more successful than them. Just play the part of happy heiress unless you want to wind up a lonely old spinster.
Betzy hadn’t taken the woman’s advice, but what if Mom was right?
She pushed the thought aside and tried focusing on the task at hand. “I swear, if my Grandma Lo didn’t have me doing this for her, I would have probably said goodbye to my waistline a long time ago.” She tiptoed over the mounding silk fabric, setting her feet carefully onto the spot of floor visible in the center.
Rachel wasted no time pulling the dress up around her frame. “Turn,” she said, gripping her hips and giving her a spin. At once, she was tightening the bodice, one hefty cinch after the next. “This is going to look incredible on you.”
“I heard that,” Grandma Lo said from the other side of the door. “I can’t wait to see.”
The song changed to a modern holiday tune. One Betzy recognized but could never name. “I can’t believe it’s already December,” she said. “This year has flown by.”
“Wait until you’re my age,” Grandma hollered. “When you get to be in your seventies, one year is a merepoint-sevenpercent of the life you’ve already lived. They go by very quickly at that rate.”
Grandma had overcome a lot in her seventy plus years. Some might think that a billionaire’s life was charmed, but Lorraine Benton had buried her husband, her only son, and one of her grandsons too. Proving that life, no matter financial rank, had its challenges.
“Okay,” Rachel said while taking her hand. “Step into some heels. Do you see the champagne colored ones there?”
Betzy glanced over the gorgeous heels lined up along the edge of the dressing room. “Yes, those will be perfect.” She slipped into one, and then the other while Rachel helped fasten the straps.
Her friend straightened up once she was through, running a gaze up the dress, when a gasp pulled from her throat.
“What?” Betzy asked, patting at the dress as she looked down to inspect it. “Is there a tear or something?”
But Rachel only shook her head. “No,” she said, taking a step back. “It’syourdress.”
Betzy furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about? I’m nowhereneargetting married.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying…” Rachel died off as she spun a slow, complete circle around her. “I’m saying thatthis. Is. Your. Dress.”
The way she emphasized each and every word caused Betzy to turn and face the mirrors.Whoa.Rachel wasn’t kidding. Betzy had gotten used to giving each gown no more than a second glance. But as she stepped closer to the mirror, eyes set on her reflection, Rachel’s words resonated within her.
Of all the dresses she’d modeled for Grandma’s bridal boutique, this—with its champagne colored silk, antique pearl accents, and custom stitching—had Betzy imagining her own walk down the aisle.
“Admit it,” Rachel said. “You look incredible.”
“Open up,” Grandma hollered. “I have to see this for myself.”
Rachel came up behind her, gathering the silky train into her arms, then came to a stand. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead and step out.”
Betzy nodded as she pulled her eyes off the gorgeous sight of the dress. She reached for the door, turned the knob, and gave it a push.
Grandma Lo’s posture shifted before Betzy’s eyes. Gone was the hip-leaning, arm-folding scrutiny—the gaze that usually led to moments of tucking fabric here or pinning the neckline there. She lifted her arms at either side, palms up as if she might break into a song of praise.
“Heaven and all its angels are shining down on you today,” she said in a whisper. “This is a sign. It’s your year. Your time has come at last.”
All thoughts of the dress hit the floor at Grandma’s words. “A sign? Youdoknow it’s December, right? It can’t possibly be my year—it’s practically over.”
Grandma rubbed her hands together as she approached. “I don’t mean itthatway. I mean that, before this time next year, you’ll be walking down the aisle with the man of your dreams. Trust me, I have a sense for these things.”
“She does have a sense,” Rachel agreed.
“Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you put this on hold for the ninth ofneversince I haven’t met a man I’d even want to marry and I don’t sense one coming any time soon.”
