Except, it would look awful on Velma.
“That dress is not going to work with my chest size.” Velma shook her head. Or her tush size.
“Give it a try. I bet it’ll look amazing when you get it on. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You will rock the hell out of this dress,” Heather insisted.
Maybe…Velma could try a hemline that short. It might even be fun.
“We’re all ready for you, Claire.” The sales lady stuck her head out of the dressing room.
“I guess it’s time.” Claire turned to Velma and made an “eeek” sound before she disappeared into the dressing room with the sales lady.
“I have gifts for you and Heather,” Claire said over the rustling of the garment bag in her fitting room. “Can you grab them? They’re the white boxes on the counter.”
Heather picked up the two white boxes from the counter and handed one to Velma.
Velma untied the ribbon from her box and removed the lid. An ache formed in the center of her chest. She recognized the handmade Italian lace that had once covered her grandmother’s entire wedding gown.
But the piece in her hand was not on the dress. It had been sewn into a dainty handkerchief. Velma couldn’t seem to move. She wasn’t breathing. She opened her mouth, but air wouldn’t come.
“You okay?” Heather asked, her expression concerned.
“Yes,” Velma croaked, taking in the devastation that was once her grandmother’s bridal gown. Claire was making changes to the dress. Velma knew this. She’d even encouraged it when Claire couldn’t find a dress she loved.
Everything was changing.
Except Velma.
“Ta-da.” Claire emerged from the dressing area.
Gramma Velma’s dress had a train, poufy sleeves, and yards and yards of handmade Italian lace. The version Claire wore used some of the same lace, but the sleeves had been removed and the fabric cut short so it fell at the knee.
Velma’s heart tumbled to her toes. This dress was beautiful. Totally Claire. But it wasn’t her grandmother’s. Not anymore.
Everything was different. Velma had gone blurry from tears forming on her eyelids.
“Velvet?” Claire’s face fell.
Velma hiccupped and pressed the back of her hand against her lips. “You’re so pretty.”
Claire started to cry, too. “You don’t think I ruined it?”
“I think sometimes an update is in order.” Velma stared as the sales lady tugged at the fabric of what had once been a family heirloom, holding it tight and pinning it in place.
Velma’s world was crumbling like the huge sandcastle they’d built too close to the tide when they were little. The whole thing was lost to a saltwater wave.
She gulped against the gritty feeling of losing the dress her grandmother had worn. Claire loved the changes. This was Claire’s wedding. Velma’s job was to support her, not freak out over a cut-up family heirloom. Her heart rate slowed. She could do this.
“What are you doing later, Velma?” Heather sifted through a rack of bridesmaid dresses. “We were thinking about grabbing dinner.”
Velma hedged. “I have plans tonight.”
Downtown at a matchmaker mixer.
“With Brek?” Heather paused, giving Velma the side-eye with a dash of smirk.
“Brek’s overwhelmed with brides at the moment,” Velma dodged. Actually, he was alone, using his mom’s empty garage to change the oil on his motorcycle.
Claire gave Velma a good once-over, the sales lady still pinning the material into place. “How’s helping him out with planning going?”
