The Dream Dress

by Janice Thompson

  After Wilhelmina paid for the materials, we walked out to the parking lot, the skies above us dusky and gray. Had we really been in the store that long?

  “I’ll be back on the island next Monday night,” Wilhelmina said. “Any chance you’ll start the gown before then? I’d love to see your progress.”

  “Progress?” Between now and next Monday night? I’d be lucky to have the pieces cut out by then. After all, I still had to prepare a paper pattern and then sew some sample pieces out of a less expensive cloth to fit to the dress form. Surely she realized all of that.

  Or not.

  “I’ll swing by and check on things,” she said. “Now if you all will excuse me, I’m meeting Donny at the Rossis’ place for a late dinner.”

  Dinner! I’d almost forgotten that Jordan and I still hadn’t eaten. He’d been so patient with us. Poor guy. He was probably starving.

  We said our goodbyes and Scarlet headed to her car. Jordan offered to carry the bag of fabrics to the car for me. He opened my door and asked what I’d like for dinner. I’d just opened my mouth to respond when Scarlet came sprinting across the parking lot.

  “Hey, Gabi, I keep forgetting to tell you something.” She paused to catch her breath. “We’ve got some special guests coming to sing at our church next Sunday. I thought you might like to come and hear them. Maybe bring your mom and your grandmother too.”

  I had a hard time picturing Mimi Carmen in a Protestant church but didn’t say so. “Special guests?”

  “Yeah. It’s a trio of ladies from Splendora. Friends of Bella’s, actually. I really think you’ll like them. They’re very . . .” The warmth of her smile echoed in her voice. “Very special. And lots of fun.”

  “Wait. What are their names?” Jordan asked.

  “They call themselves the Splendora Sisters, but they’re not really sisters. They’re just three ladies who travel around and sing together. They’re great, though.”

  “The Splendora Sisters? I know them!” Jordan laughed and looked my way. “I covered a wedding they did a few months back. Forties swing music, stuff like that. They’ve got quite a following. Didn’t know they did gospel music, though.”

  “Oh yes.” Scarlet nodded. “That’s their thing, really. I mean, they do weddings too, and all sorts of older music mainly, but you should hear their hymns. The harmonies are amazing.”

  “Sounds great.” He looked at me again. “You should go, Gabi.”

  “You too, Jordan.” Scarlet gave him a pleading look. “It’ll be a lot of fun. The whole Rossi family is coming—Bella, D.J., the kids, the grandparents, the aunts, the uncles, the cousins . . .” She laughed. “Our little church will be bursting at the seams. I can’t wait to see what happens when all of the Methodists, Pentecostals, Catholics, and Baptists merge.”

  “Now that I would pay money to see.” Jordan leaned against the car and grinned.

  “Thankfully you won’t have to. There’s no cost.”

  “I’d like to come,” I said after thinking about it. “And I’ll ask Mama and Mimi Carmen. Maybe they’ll join me.” Surely Mama would, anyway, based on our last conversation about church-related things.

  “Hope so.” She turned back toward her car. “I’m sure we’ll talk before then, but either way, I’ll see you there.” She sprinted across the parking lot, then turned back once more. I watched as her gaze traveled from Jordan to me, then back again. “Great to see you again, Jordan,” she hollered out. “At least today no one ended up covered in chocolate.”

  “True.” Jordan laughed.

  She gave us a wave and got into her car.

  “It’s getting late.” Jordan pulled out his phone to look at the time. “We should find someplace close for dinner.”

  “Oh, I know. There’s a place called Dixie’s not far from here. It’s really casual.”

  “I’ve been there lots of times. It’s one of my favorites.”

  Before long we were seated at a small table in the quaint diner, nibbling on club sandwiches and some of the best French fries I’d had in ages.

  Jordan seemed to know just how to draw the conversation out of me. I found myself bubbling over at what had just happened at the fabric store.

  “I’m so excited for Scarlet. Thanks to her aunt, she’s going to get her dream wedding. Or at least her dream gown. Not every girl gets that.” For whatever reason, a cloud fell over me as I said those last few words.

  “Dream wedding.” Jordan gave me an inquisitive look. “If you could have your dream wedding, what would it be like?”

  He had to go there. I pondered his question for a moment. Sadness enveloped me right away as the truth hit. I would never have my dream wedding, because there would never be a father to walk me down the aisle. There wouldn’t be money for imported silk and designer lace.

  Creases formed between Jordan’s brows as he looked my way. “I’m sorry. Did I upset you with that question?”

  “No. Every girl dreams about her wedding, especially a girl like me in the wedding biz.”

  “So . . .”

  “With my dad out of the picture, it’s just . . . complicated.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gabi.”

  He was. I could tell from the compassion in his eyes.

  With a wave of my hand I dismissed his concerns. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure lots of brides go through this.”

  “I feel sure you’ll have the perfect wedding,” he said. “Want to know how I know that?”

  “How?”

  “Because you’ll be the center of attention. All eyes will be on you.” He reached across the table to take my hand. “And trust me when I say that none of the guests will notice anyone else in the place.”

  Somehow his words reignited the joy I’d felt moments earlier. In fact, I couldn’t help grinning as we finished the meal. Afterward we lingered over cups of coffee, talking about everything imaginable—our childhoods, days at the beach, sports . . . everything.

  The waitress finally cleared her throat enough times that we got her meaning. She needed us to move on because her shift was coming to an end. Jordan paid the tab and opened the door for me to step outside.

  As we walked toward the car, he reached for my hand. I laced my fingers through his, noticing how comfortable it felt. We took our time, walking under a starlit sky. The moon hung like a golden orb, casting its rays on us. The whole thing felt . . . magical, like something from a movie.

  When we reached the car, Jordan paused. He slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. I felt my heart begin to race as he fingered a loose tendril of my hair. His fingertip lingered on my cheek, sending tingles down my spine. My eyes fluttered closed, and I knew—just as I’d known the Irish lace would be perfect with the imported silk—that Fred was asking Ginger to dance.

  As Jordan’s lips met mine, my heart responded with a resounding yes.

  Cheek to Cheek

  Don’t needle the seamstress.

  Author unknown

  The next few days I bounced back and forth between my work at the shop and my design for Scarlet’s gown. I managed to cut out the paper pattern for her dress and was happy with it. Soon—when things slowed down—I would work up the courage to cut into those expensive fabrics.

  I fended several calls from Nicolette that week but knew she deserved an answer. Soon. Still, I couldn’t commit to make her dress just yet, could I? Not without time to think it through.

  As I slaved away in my workroom late Friday afternoon, my thoughts shifted to Nicolette. I couldn’t help but think about the design she’d selected and how perfect it would look on her. I could still see the look of joy on her face as she’d shared all of the reasons why she loved the gown in the first place.

  I loved that she loved my design. Was that wrong? Under these circumstances, maybe. She was, after all, my boss’s client. Or had been, anyway. To steal her away would be . . . unethical. Right? Then again, didn’t the bride always get what she wanted, not what others wanted for her?
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  “Gabriella?”

  “Hmm?” I turned to face Demetri, who glared at me from the open doorway. “I’m sorry. What, Demetri?”

  “I’ve been calling your name several times over. Vhat are you doing in here?”

  I pointed at the dress I’d been hemming and pulled another straight pin from the pincushion on my wrist. “Hemming this bridesmaid dress. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

  “Yes, but you didn’t answer zee question. I asked you to help Kitty at zee front desk for a few minutes vhile Lydia and Corinne assist me vith something.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I scrambled to my feet and brushed the loose threads off my slacks. “I guess my mind was on other things. I didn’t hear you.”

  His eyes took on a beady look, and I began to sweat under their glare. “Your mind has been on other things a lot lately. Zis vorries me.”

  “Nothing to worry about.” I pulled my arm back, and the pincushion caught on the edge of the hem, nearly pulling Ginger down on top of me. Demetri caught her as she plummeted and set her upright again. In that moment, I had a weird flashback to an earlier mental image—one where Demetri waltzed me across the dance floor, stomping on my toes all the way.

  He gestured for me to walk to the front of the store, but I could read the concern in his eyes as I passed by him. Not that I blamed him for being concerned. Lately I couldn’t seem to keep my focus. How could I, with so much work left to do on Scarlet’s gown? I’d given her a design she loved, sure, but implementing it was another thing altogether.

  All of this wee-hours-of-the-night stuff seemed to be zapping my daytime creativity. Something had to give. I couldn’t burn the candle at both ends much longer.

  And this whole fiasco with Nicolette? I needed to make a decision . . . and quickly.

  By the time the weekend arrived I could avoid Nicolette no longer. I called on Saturday evening to let her know that I would speak to Demetri about the possibilities of implementing the design she had suggested, and she seemed relieved to hear it. When—and how—I would talk to him, I couldn’t be positive, but surely I could move forward with Nicolette’s gown without too much angst from him.

  Late Saturday night I told Mama and Mimi Carmen about the concert at Scarlet’s church. I somehow managed to talk them into going to church with me by explaining that the Rossi family would be there. Mimi couldn’t resist the idea of meeting Rosa in person.

  The following morning we all made the drive to church in my car, which still gave me fits all the way. About halfway there I passed a police officer coming the other way.

  Please don’t let him notice my missing side mirror!

  He didn’t. The patrol car rolled right on by, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  As my car sputtered into the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of the older man who’d offered to help me the last time. The fellow headed my way, but I could tell from the slow-moving gait that he struggled with the same arthritis Mimi battled daily.

  I could read the concern etched in his brow as I got out of the car. “I hope you don’t think I’m just a nosy old man, but when are you going to let me take a look at this car for you?” His gaze traveled from the car to my grandmother, who struggled to get out of the passenger seat. He rushed to her side. “Here you are, lovely lady.” He extended his hand and introduced himself as Daniel.

  “Thank you.” She took his hand, and they worked together to pull her to a standing position. Daniel then offered my grandmother the crook of his arm, and she slipped hers through it as she gazed into his eyes.

  Now, I’d heard of love at first sight all of my life. Many of my brides talked about it, and I’d seen my fair share of over-the-top romance movies. But I’d never witnessed it. The sparks that flew between my grandmother and this total stranger looked like something from a Disney movie. Complete with a soundtrack.

  The soundtrack turned out to be the Splendora Sisters warming up inside the church. Apparently someone had the sound turned up a bit too loud.

  “I’m Daniel Real,” the man said, his hold on Mimi’s arm still firm.

  “Carmen . . .” Her eyelashes fluttered, and she seemed to lose her ability to speak.

  “Delgado.” Mama spoke up from behind us. “Carmen Delgado.”

  “Yes, Carmen Delgado.” Mimi giggled. “That’s me.”

  Daniel led the way to the entrance of the church, and we were—as I’d predicted—greeted to death. Before long we were inside the church, where the Splendora Sisters had stopped their rehearsal and were visiting with Scarlet at the front of the sanctuary. We found seats about halfway back—quite a challenge, with the crowd and all. Daniel released his hold on my grandmother’s arm and made his way to the front of the room to greet the pastor.

  Mama entered our pew first, and I followed her. This left Mimi Carmen closest to the center aisle. No doubt she wanted to be able to make a clean getaway once the drums started. A minute or so later, Scarlet scurried our way, followed by the trio of women from Splendora.

  When they reached our pew, they stopped. “Gabi, let me introduce you.” Scarlet practically beamed as she listed their names: “Sister Twila, Sister Jolene, and Sister Bonnie Sue.”

  The trio of larger-than-life women greeted us with friendly waves and lots of chatter about how much they loved Mimi’s colorful fan—the one with the picture of the Virgin Mary on it. We all nodded politely and tried to make conversation. Well, Mama and I tried. Mimi just stared at the buxom trio and fanned herself.

  Scarlet had referred to these ladies as sisters—they were even billed as such on the marquee out front—but she had already informed me they weren’t related. I might’ve guessed this from their appearances. Except for their size, they did not resemble one another. And the “sisters” part definitely didn’t mean these gals hailed from a convent. Judging from the sparkly blouses and high heels, anyway. And Sister Jolene’s overly teased hairdo, which put me in mind of a sixties movie I’d once seen on television.

  The one who had been introduced as Twila leaned forward and gave me an inquisitive look. “My word, you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. You should be in pictures.”

  “What?”

  “Oh yes!” Bonnie Sue added, lowering her bifocals to give me a closer look. “You look like the movie star type—those beautiful white teeth. Perfect lips . . .” She narrowed her gaze. “Those are your lips, aren’t they, honey? I mean, you didn’t . . .”

  To my left, Mimi Carmen let out a little giggle.

  “No, I-I didn’t have any work done.” Were they kidding me?

  “Well, some women I’ve met have paid thousands to have beautiful lips like that,” Bonnie Sue said. “So one can never be too sure these days.”

  “Botox is very popular,” Jolene added.

  “They don’t use Botox, Jolene,” Bonnie Sue responded. “It’s collagen.”

  “Whatever.” Jolene rolled her eyes and took to fanning herself. “That hair of yours is divine. Come over here and let me get a closer look.”

  Though it felt awkward, I rose and took a couple of steps toward her. “W-what about it?” I managed.

  “Gorgeous! Just the right length, to your shoulders. Frames your face.” She seemed mesmerized by it and reached out to fuss with it. “And that luscious black color just shimmers! How do you get it to glisten like that?”

  I’d just started to tell her the brand of my conditioner when Twila interrupted. “I know! She uses Mane and Tail.”

  “Mane and Tail?”

  “Well, sure, honey. It puts the giddyup and go in your hair—and your step!” Twila laughed and then reached to stroke my hair.

  Did they really think I used horse products in my hair, or was this some kind of joke?

  “And I know why you’ve got flawless skin too,” Jolene said, reaching to touch my face. “You must use our top-secret recipe.”

  “No, actually, I use—”

  “Olive oil and sugar.” Jolene nodded. “Works like
a charm for me too. See?” She took my hand to stroke her cheek with my fingers. I had to admit, it did feel soft. Then again, she was pretty wrinkly, so age might have had something to do with the softness.

  “There aren’t enough beauty products in the world to give me that lovely color of skin, though. Such a beautiful golden glow, like you were born with the perfect tan.” Bonnie Sue gave a little pout. “Me? I’m whiter than a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

  Strangely, this led to a conversation about Blue Bell, their favorite brand of ice cream, which led to one of the ladies—Twila, maybe?—talking about calories. From there they went off on a tangent about a fitness program they’d recently tried and some dieting supplements that had sent one of them to the emergency room.

  I did my best to chime in, but really, what could I say? Besides, I couldn’t stop thinking about their flattering comments. Beautiful, shiny hair? Gorgeous skin? White teeth? Luscious lips? Botox? Collagen? Really?

  Thank goodness Scarlet took control of the conversation once again, redirecting the ladies toward Mama. The minute they found out that my mother worked as a travel agent, the conversation became fully animated. From there the chatter turned to cruises. And Europe. I noticed the sad look on Mama’s face as she offered to plan an upcoming trip for them. I saw through the forced smile to the sadness underneath that said, “When? When will it be my turn? When can I go on an adventure like that?”

  Then the topic shifted to the food they’d eaten on their last cruise. Mimi Carmen got involved in the chatter at this point, talking about her enchiladas and tamales. That was pretty much all she wrote. From that moment forth, my grandmother was their best friend. On and on they went, raving about their favorite meals.

  I listened in, pleased to see everyone settling in so well. Maybe this wouldn’t be so rough after all.

  Scarlet gestured to the group of ladies and smiled as if to say, “Aren’t they getting along nicely?” I nodded. It felt good to see Mama and Mimi Carmen among people again. Both had become such homebodies.