Well, if I couldn’t beat ’em . . .
I reached for a chocolate and popped it into my mouth.
Before long calmer heads prevailed. “Dahlia, is there anything I can do?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“I may not be able to solve the problem with my brother,” I said, “but maybe it would be a nice distraction to Skype with Nadia after you get Carrie’s measurements so that they can talk about design ideas. If you don’t have time to make the dress, perhaps one of the others will.” I gave Eduardo a hopeful look and he nodded.
Dahlia sniffled and reached for her measuring tape. Less than thirty minutes later, a bright-eyed Dahlia conversed with Nadia over Skype as if nothing had ever happened. Introductions were made and Nadia chatted—like the pro she was—with our young bride-to-be. It didn’t take long to settle on a plan. All Nadia had to do was ask the question, “Who’s your favorite actress or singer?” to set things in motion.
“Oh, I know you’ll think this is crazy, but I’m nuts about Doris Day.” Carrie chuckled. “I’ve seen Pillow Talk over a dozen times. Was there ever a sexier man than Rock Hudson?”
We all sighed in unison.
Well, those old enough to know who Rock Hudson was sighed. This led to a conversation about his life offscreen, which somehow led us back around to Doris Day once again. By the time we ended the call with Nadia, everyone was in good spirits, including Eduardo, who had actually met Doris in person when he lived in Los Angeles in the fifties. Go figure.
Once we finished up with Nadia, Carrie turned my way, eyes lit with joy. “Oh, Katie, I’m so excited! Mama’s always been such a huge Doris Day fan and so is Mrs. Dennison. This might be just the ticket. Basketball has separated us but Doris will bring us all together!”
They needed something to bring them all together, no doubt about that. And I was glad Nadia had the insight to ask for the bride’s input. Still, I doubted that Doris Day had the power to pull these two families into one cohesive unit.
Minutes later Dahlia—now all smiles—pulled up pictures of Doris Day on the internet. We all pointed out the various dresses that we loved, then gave a common gasp when we saw Doris in a remarkable fitted white gown sparkling with rhinestones on the left shoulder.
“Oh, that’s it!” Carrie let out a squeal.
“I know this dress well,” Eduardo said from behind me. “Silk sheath, as was her custom. Off-white, though it looks more white in this picture. Ankle-length gown. Notice how the gown is drawn to gather on the left shoulder and how the back plunges downward.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” Carrie leaned in to have a closer look.
“Very popular style back in the day,” Eduardo said. “And the accessories are perfect. But what really makes the dress come alive is that fitted bodice panel. One rarely sees that anymore, but what a lovely way to accentuate a small waistline.” He smiled at Carrie. “Like yours.”
“Why, thank you. You think this gown would work for me?”
“Do I? But of course. I would add more sparkle to the top, but the rest would stay the same. Just promise me that you will wear elbow-length gloves in white.”
“Ooh, I promise.”
“It will be the loveliest gown ever produced at Cosmopolitan Bridal!” Eduardo threw his arms up in the air. “Or my name isn’t Eduardo Villa de la Consuela.”
Okay then. Looked like everyone was on board.
“It’ll be perfect. Just the ticket.” As I spoke the word “ticket,” I thought about Carrie’s father. Hopefully he wouldn’t really mind the idea of Nadia designing the gown. Worse things had happened, after all. Who cared if they had opposing views when it came to ball teams?
This made me think about Dewey and Dahlia. Had my brother really given her an ultimatum—move to the country and have fourteen children? If so, I needed to have a “Come to Jesus” talk with him. A real couple worked things out. Even the hard things.
For whatever reason, thinking about them reminded me of Casey—how he’d left me high and dry to move away to Oklahoma. We hadn’t worked things out, had we? Then again, we weren’t meant to be. I was meant to come to Dallas, to meet Brady James. And Dallas was where I planned to stay.
Unfortunately, the squabbles continued when the families entered the shop once again, though the womenfolk seemed pleased with the whole Doris Day angle. Things didn’t get much better when Stan got involved minutes later, insisting Brady sign autographs for the groom’s family.
I could read the pain in Brady’s eyes as he signed the photos that Stan magically produced from his car. Really? Did the guy carry around photos of the players he represented? Soon after, my youngest brother, Beau, showed up. I hadn’t seen him in action as an upcoming agent, but the guy really knew his stuff. At least, he knew enough to get Mr. Sanders more perturbed than ever.
Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, Eduardo made his way out to the front of the store. He’d overheard enough of the conversation to wave his hands in disgust. “I care nothing about basketball. It is a ridiculous sport.”
I put my finger to my lips. “Please don’t say that so loud, okay?”
“Why should I hide my feelings?” he asked. “I don’t need to scream at a television screen to prove my manhood. I prove it just fine by fitting lovely ladies in beautiful dresses. I know a lot of men, young and old, who would kill for such a living. But to create a beautiful gown like the one that Doris wore in Pillow Talk? These are the things I live for!”
“To each his own.” Stan rolled his eyes. “You can keep your ball gowns. I’ll take a basketball any day.”
This led to an argument. Great. Just what our customers needed to hear—employees who didn’t get along. Not that Stan really worked in the shop, but we couldn’t seem to shake him. He wasn’t giving up, no matter how problematic Brady’s knee situation got. Apparently Eduardo wasn’t giving up either. He just kept sharing comment after comment about how much he despised basketball and how Doris would be proud to hear that her gown was making an appearance at a bride’s wedding in San Antonio, Texas.
Well, terrific. What a lovely day we were all having.
When everyone finally left, I settled into a chair in Brady’s office, relieved to have the whole experience behind me.
“That went well.” He laughed.
“The bride got her way in the end. I suppose that’s all that matters.” I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my neck.
“Yeah. We don’t always get our way, do we?” Brady said, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Nope. But I’m completely floored at how brilliant Eduardo is when it comes to designs. Your mom certainly knew what she was doing by hiring him.”
“If only we could get him interested in basketball. He’d be the perfect employee.” Brady grinned, but just as quickly his smile faded. He busied himself with papers on his desk, but I felt compelled to get to the heart of things once and for all.
I sat up straight in the chair and put one hand on his desk. “Brady, do you mind if we have a little talk?”
“Don’t mind a bit.” He rose and walked over to the door to close it. “We’ll give ’em something to talk about.” Before taking his seat, he planted a little kiss on the top of my head. “Now, what’s on your mind?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Worried?” He took a seat behind his desk, confusion registering in those gorgeous eyes of his. “Why?”
“You’re not yourself lately. You seem kind of . . . down.”
“Down? Really?” He looked perplexed. “Not trying to be.”
“Oh, I know that. Maybe it’s more of a perception. When I first came to Cosmopolitan, you were okay with the idea of not playing basketball, at least until your knee healed. But now . . .”
“Now it’s more of a struggle.” He shrugged. “Part of it is knowing I have to have another surgery. That’s like the nail in my coffin. If the first surgery had worked, I would’ve held on to the hope that I
’d be back out on the court in a few months. But the idea of a second surgery . . .” He shook his head. “It changes everything. Mostly my perspective. You heard what I said out there earlier, right? I’m not in love with the sport like I used to be. It’s time I start looking at myself as something other than a basketball player.”
“Not forever, Brady. It’s just a season. I’ve heard you say it yourself. God moves in seasons.”
“Yes. It’s a season.” He rose and winced as he put weight on his left leg. “A long season. And I know what I’ve said. I still believe all of that. It’s just . . . I don’t know . . .”
“A little harder than you thought it’d be?”
“A lot harder. And even more on days like today when everyone around me is talking basketball. They all want me back in the game.”
Hmm. Not everyone wanted him back in the game. Mr. Sanders, for instance. But I understood his meaning.
“You know how it is.” Brady locked eyes with me. “When you’re young you have all these dreams about what you want to be when you grow up. Who you want to be. So you set goals. And then you achieve them.”
Actually, I’d been raised in Fairfield. My big dream was to make the cheerleading squad in high school and possibly earn the title of Peach Queen before I graduated. I’d achieved both of those goals, thank you very much. Other than that, I hadn’t spent a lot of time pondering the whole goals thing.
Oh, wait. I did once have that goal to get a proposal from Casey before I won the wedding dress contest. I hadn’t exactly met that goal, but I thanked my lucky stars for that.
Brady was still talking as he moved toward me. Something about basketball. I did my best to focus. He pulled me into his arms and sighed. “I can tell I’ve lost you, Katie.”
“You’ll never lose me.”
He gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “Promise? ’Cause I’d hate to lose my career and you too.”
I admit, it stung a little that he said “you too” instead of “the girl I love” or something to that effect. But I let it roll off me. Mostly. “You haven’t lost your career. That’s what I was saying before about seasons. This is a long one, yes, but it will pass. Springtime is coming.”
“Last time I checked it was November. But I can tell you listened to that sermon online.”
“Yeah, it was great. And I got the message loud and clear. It was very fitting. You’re facing the death of a dream, but I promise God has new things. Don’t give up on your dreams, Brady James. I’ve never known you to do that and you’re not going to start now.”
“Listen to the girl.” Stan’s voice sounded from outside the door.
I laughed. Oh, great. Now Stan was agreeing with me? He’d always considered me a distraction in Brady’s life.
The door inched open and Stan stuck his head inside. “Just wanted you to know I’ve got a meeting with the Mavericks owner in an hour, Brady. No need for you to come. We’re just going to talk about . . .” His words drifted off.
“I know. My contract release.” Brady shrugged. “Whatever happens, Stan, just remember it’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either,” I said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. “You’re a team player, Brady. Right now you’re just on our team, at Cosmopolitan Bridal.”
“Right.” His response didn’t have much enthusiasm behind it. But I didn’t have time to think about that for long because Madge pushed her way into the room and started scolding Stan for bringing food into the shop.
“It’s not food,” he argued. “It’s pizza.”
“That’s food. And you know better.” On and on she went, talking to him like a youngster. Instead of his usual bantering, Stan gave me a little wink and said, “I love it when she talks to me like this.”
Okay then. Maybe we weren’t all on opposing teams.
Of course, the Sanders and Dennison families kind of were.
And Stan and Eduardo kind of were.
And Dahlia and Dewey kind of were.
Hmm. Maybe this whole teams thing was more than it was cracked up to be.
13
I Said My Pajamas (and Put On My Prayers)
What she [Doris Day] possessed, beyond her beauty, physical grace, and natural acting ability, was a resplendent voice that conveyed enormous warmth and feeling.
Nellie McKay
On Friday night, the 13th, I drove Alva back to Fairfield for Queenie’s lingerie shower, which took place at Bessie May’s house. When I picked her up later that night, she was all giggles and smiles and couldn’t stop talking about all the nighties Queenie had received.
“I’m just not sure you would believe me if I told you what a couple of them looked like, Katie.” My aunt shook her head. “Shocking, really. I don’t think Ophelia’s eyesight is what it used to be. Surely she wouldn’t buy that shade of pink on purpose.”
On and on she went, talking about negligees and such, but I didn’t want to think about it. I needed to focus on tomorrow’s shower, which would take place in the fellowship hall at the Baptist church.
We spent the night at my parents’ place again. They were due to return from their latest cruise tomorrow morning, just in time for the shower. I hoped.
I awoke early on Saturday morning, my mind in a whirl. A couple of phone calls came through from Joni and Lori-Lou, who were both on their way to the church. I hurried Alva up and we hit the road, the back of my SUV loaded with supplies.
I happened to pass by the hardware store on my way and smiled when I saw the window display that Crystal and Jasper had come up with. The boxes stacked to look like a tree had been a marvelous idea. I spent so much time looking at it that I must not have noticed the light turning green. The car behind me honked and I moved on my way, anxious to get to the church to help Lori-Lou. We arrived in record time and had the room looking festive and bright in less than an hour. Thanks to Joni, the tables were filled with all sorts of yummy-looking finger foods, not a chicken strip in the mix. By the time the ladies started arriving a few minutes before ten, we were more than ready for them.
Now, I’d been to a lot of bridal showers over the years, but never one that boasted so many elderly women. From what I could gather from the hushed conversations and red faces, last night’s lingerie shower was still front and center in everyone’s mind. Thank goodness I’d been left off the invitation list.
Right now I didn’t have time to think about nighties. I was far too busy playing hostess alongside Lori-Lou, greeting our guests and pointing them toward the food table. The finger foods were being snagged up in record time. No problem, though. Joni refilled the trays, humming a merry tune while she worked.
I couldn’t get over the little cake Ophelia had baked. Darling! It boasted four tiny tiers—a wedding cake in miniature. With Prissy Moyer’s help, she’d even made some adorable little cookies that looked like wedding dresses. Perfect!
Not everyone was in the best of spirits, though. Mama arrived late with a nasty-looking sunburn. Everything was beet-red except for big round circles around her eyes, where she’d apparently worn sunglasses while on her cruise.
“Don’t say it, Katie Sue. I know, I know.” She dropped her purse on a chair and turned around. “Could you scratch the middle of my back? I’m peeling.”
I couldn’t recall ever hearing my mom use those words before, but how could I not scratch her back? The woman had given birth to me, after all.
“I hope I can sit down.” She eased her way onto a chair. “The backs of my thighs are crisp. You just haven’t known pain until you’ve had a sunburn in November. All that cold air blowing on your hot skin. So painful.”
Hopefully I’d never know.
“Well, you made it back from the cruise just fine.”
“Haven’t even been home yet. Your father dropped me off. He’s headed to the house to unload our bags. The man must’ve been nuts to think we could handle a cruise to Mexico on the heels of our trip to the Galápagos.”
“At least you
’re seeing the world.” I smiled. “That’s a good thing.”
“I suppose. But I’m missing out here.” She gestured to the other ladies, who were all eating little sandwiches. “Anything exciting happen without me?”
“Oh, we just got the ball rolling with the food. In a few minutes we’ll cut the cake and then play a couple of games. Then Queenie will open her presents.”
“I’d better go say hello to everyone.” Mama tried to stand, but apparently her thighs wouldn’t cooperate. “Or not.” She waved at Queenie, who rose and walked toward us.
“Glad to have you back, Marie.” Queenie opened her arms as if ready to give Mama a big hug, but my mother flinched.
“I wish I could hug you, Queenie, but I just can’t.” My mother squirmed in her seat. “I do wonder if I’ll ever be able to hug anyone again.”
“How was your trip?” Queenie asked. “Did that son of mine behave himself?”
“If you call eating ten meals a day behaving himself, then yes,” Mama said.
Bessie May joined us. She gave a little whistle when she saw Mama’s sunburn. “My goodness, Marie. You’re crispier than the chicken up at Sam’s. Where does one have to go to get a burn like that?”
“Cozumel.”
“I thought you were in the Galápagos.”
“That was the week before,” Mama said, then whispered to me, “Katie Sue, please scratch my back.”
“So you decided to do the Cozumel private beach excursion like I suggested?” Bessie May nodded. “Good choice.”
“That whole Cozumel experience is a story for another day,” Mama said. “But let’s just leave it at this: if you ever meet a fellow named Juan Carlos who tries to tell you that he’s selling you a Rolex watch, don’t fall for it.”
“Other than that?” I asked as I gently scratched her back.
“It was nice. But as you can see, I got a bad burn. Did you know that Cozumel is actually closer to the equator than Fairfield?” She wriggled in her seat again. “Apparently it has to do with the effect of the gamma rays . . . or something like that.”
Lori-Lou joined us, her eyes growing wide when she saw Mama’s burn. “Oh, Aunt Marie. That looks so painful. Can I bring you anything?”
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