The moment I was done with her wedding, I was instituting an “I refuse to work with family or friends” policy.
I had Michelle on speaker, her voice echoing louder than necessary through the showroom.
“Michelle’s idea is brilliant!” My mother called from upstairs. “Come on up! I’ve got several for you to choose from.”
I obliged and stepped onto a landing full of oversized mirrors and white platforms. Each one was fitted with a mannequin wearing a custom white dress.
My mom pointed to the one at the center—an A-cut with a jeweled bodice that gave way to a feathered train.
“I’ve never seen this one before,” I said. “It’s stunning.”
“I had you in mind when I designed it,” she said. “Want me to put it away so you can try it on later?”
“Ha. Funny.” I plopped onto a pouf chair. “I’ll wait…or pretend I’m waiting,” I muttered. “Where’s Dad?”
“Trying to convince you to buy your mother’s shop, so she can finally retire.” He was suddenly behind me.
I jumped up and hugged him. “Dad…”
“You get six months before you have to come here and let us run the numbers,” he said. “Adding on a wedding dress boutique to your portfolio would help you keep your business at the number one spot.”
“No, getting married and having a beautiful wedding of her own would do that.” My grandmother stepped into the room, looking more like fifty-five than seventy-five. “At the rate you’regoing, you’ll end up in your forties with a vibrator and a collection of frozen cucumbers for lovers.”
“Really, Grandma?”
“Just calling it like I see it.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“My words still stand as they are.” She shrugged.
“Ignore her.” My mom laughed. “Go on in the dressing room and try on a few styles for your friend. It’ll be better for us to weed out the duds this way, anyway…”
* * *
Two Hours and Thirty Dresses Later
I twirled in front of the mirror, making sure to show off every angle to my phone that was propped on a chair, in full view for Michelle and the other bridesmaids to see.
As much as I hated to admit it, the current dress was well worth the wait.
With its lace-trimmed bodice, it hugged my breasts just enough to show a bit of cleavage and then gave way to a flowy tulle skirt that shimmered with every move.
“So?” I looked at Michelle. “What do you think?”
“That’s the one for the wedding.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “That’s it.”
“Excellent choice.” I smiled. “I think it’ll look beautiful on you.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You think Chris will like it?”
“Uh, I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
“I need him to see it to make sure.”
“No, Michelle.” I shook my head. “That’s a major taboo.”
“Well, I need a guy’s point of view.”
