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Charlotte opened her eyes and the air left her in a rush. She imagined Lizzie in a hundred different dresses and none were so perfect.

“Oh,” she breathed, taking in the soft material and intricate beading and lace work.

Lizzie was glowing.

“It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“This is definitely it. If you don’t pick this one, it will haunt both of us until the day we perish.”

“You mean it?”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

A wide smirk spread across Lizzie’s face. “When you told me you weren’t in love with Ali McCarthy.”

Blood drained from her cheeks… but she wasn’t in love… was she?

“Hello, darling,” Charlotte said after hearing Ali’s greeting through the line.

She and her family went to lunch to celebrate after finishing dress shopping. Lunch dragged on well into early evening, and the entire time she wanted to call Ali and tell her the news… and just… hear her voice.

“How’d it go?”

“She found the dress.”

An excited squeak echoed through the line. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for her. Did she cry? Did you cry? Are there pictures? Do I have to wait?”

“We all cried and I think I can sneak you a picture if you promise to act surprised when you see it in person.”

“Deal.”

Charlotte walked down the sidewalk, the sky behind her a haze of pinks, oranges, and dusty blues.

“Have you found the perfect thing yet?” Ali asked, referencing the latest task added to Charlotte’s plate… finding the “something old” for Lizzie’s wedding.

“I think I might have an idea for it. But it will require mama’s approval,” Charlotte said, looking both ways before crossing a street. “How was your day?”

“Oh…” Ali trailed off before she finished, her words lacking the previous shimmer they’d just had. “It was fine.”

Something sounded off.

“What’re you up to?”

A long-suffering sigh came next. “Laying on the floor in my living room staring hopelessly at the ceiling.”

Charlotte snorted. Finding it easy to imagine Ali sprawled out. “Some floor time can be therapeutic. Is there a reason you’re down there?”

“My last model bailed. I lay down to wallow in my defeat. I haven’t found the strength to get back up,” Ali groaned, almost hiding the wobble in her tone.

No doubt, Ali was beginning to regret agreeing less than a month before the show. But Charlotte felt her work deserved to be seen. She worked hard and she was talented.

“Good thing your back-up model is ready and waiting.”

“I don’t have a back-up model,” Ali said, sounding half a second away from crying big fat crocodile tears. “It was a struggle to find this last one.”

“You do have a back-up model,” Charlotte assured her, climbing into her car and putting it in drive and zipping off toward Ali’s apartment.