The Wedding Dress Yes (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Good grief! She’s not thirteen! London barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. While Danielle was younger than London, she was still obviously in her twenties and clearly capable of making her own decisions, but her mother and Rhonda seemed determined to override her wishes.

  Rhonda gasped and flailed her arms up dramatically, “I know what the problem is! You can’t see the full picture. Your veil and shoes haven’t arrived yet, but when they do, you’ll see how gorgeous you look.”

  “Rhonda, you are so right!” the mother agreed. “When all the pieces are together and your wedding day arrives, you’ll see how perfect it is!”

  “Wait! I have an idea!” Rhonda bustled off, busily rummaging through racks to find something.

  With Rhonda gone, it gave London a few seconds to more overtly study Danielle’s dress. Unfortunately, the poor girl looked like a mummy with a poofy skirt that looked as if it belonged in a ballroom in the 1800s. The extensive dress covered every inch of skin except her pale face sticking up out of the high-necked collar and her hands peeking out the elaborately appliqued long sleeves.

  Sadly, Danielle’s pale, miserable face only added to the overall mummy resemblance.

  Hmmm… if you got rid of the sleeves and cut some of the excess material out of the skirt to replace with a few lighter lace inserts…

  London stood, wanting to offer her help but knowing instinctively that it wouldn’t be received well. The mother had her own agenda. Danielle’s dress had already been decided, and the current objective was convincing the bride to come to terms with it.

  Before London could coerce herself into throwing caution to the wind and doing what her heart told her was right, Rhonda reappeared armed with a hoop for the skirt, satin gloves, a thick veil, and a pair of white stilettos. Knowing she’d missed her chance, London retreated back to bending over her own work.

  “Now, these aren’t the exact ones we chose and ordered, but they’ll give you the general idea,” Rhonda bubbled excitedly as her ample form disappeared beneath the voluminous skirt to attach the hoop.

  Five minutes later, Danielle completed her transformation from mummy to large, white ghost. No part of her remained visible behind the thick, white veil, dress, and gloves. While Rhonda and Danielle’s mother pronounced her “breathtaking,” London suspected that Danielle’s quivering shoulders meant that silent tears coursed down her face behind the veil where no gaze could penetrate.

  Danielle didn’t say another word, and the dress fitting soon concluded with two smiling matrons and one distressed bride still valiantly trying to dash the tears off her splotchy, red face.

  There’s nothing you can do, London told herself, languishing in waves of helplessness. Her place and position in the bridal shop was credited to Rhonda’s good graces. The only reason she’d felt confident the arrangement could be mutually beneficial was because London’s designer wedding dress business catered to a different clientele. Though she hadn’t come outright and said it, London knew Rhonda hoped the high-profile designer boutique would raise the esteem of her own bridal shop, and some of London’s upscale clients just might find some necessities at Rhonda’s Snow White Bridal. However, Rhonda had been very clear from the beginning that the door only opened one direction. London’s clients could patron Rhonda’s store, but London was in no way supposed to steal Rhonda’s clients.

  But it’s not stealing. It’s just helping, London argued with herself, desperately wanting to ease the misery on Danielle’s pretty face.

  Unfortunately, London knew Rhonda wouldn’t see it that way. Any offered comment would be labeled as interfering and in clear violation of the “rules.” London was not allowed to have an opinion when her feet stood on the Snow White bridal end of the building.

  “Thank you so much, Rhonda,” Danielle’s mother said, warmly embracing the boutique owner. “I don’t know what we would do without you. You’re so very kind and thoughtful, making sure my girl is a beautiful bride!”

  “I’m just happy to help,” Rhonda assured, her round cheeks rosy with pleasure.

  The two women conversed brightly as Rhonda packed the wedding dress in a garment bag.

  It’s not my business. Rhonda will make sure Danielle is fine.

  Gradually, London talked herself out of getting involved or even feeling guilty about it. Rhonda ran a successful business and was well-loved in the community for her kindhearted exuberance. London had certainly benefitted from Rhonda’s good favor. Any help from London would probably just make the situation worse.

  Danielle trudged to the door of the shop with her shoulders stooped under the weight of carrying the ugly wedding dress in its Goliath-sized garment bag. Unable to make her escape without her mother in tow, Danielle turned around to wait for her to finish the long farewell with Rhonda.

  Still unable to look away, London’s gaze unexpectedly collided with Danielle’s, and the hopelessness and pain in the young bride’s eyes made London gasp sharply. Even still, London clasped the soft material tightly in her hands and remained seated, choosing to do nothing.

  London balanced the stack of boxes precariously in one arm while she reached with the other to fit the key into the lock on the door of the shop. She twisted her arm, grimacing with the effort of turning the key.

  “Oh, dear, let me help you with that!” Rhonda bustled up behind her and unloaded some of the boxes from London’s stack into her own arms.

  “Thank you!” London told her rescuer warmly, breathing a sigh of relief as the key turned in the lock and she pushed the door open.

  “I’ve told those delivery guys over and over not to deliver packages if the shop isn’t open,” Rhonda followed London through the door, shaking her head in exasperation. “I don’t like our things delivered after hours only to sit out in the elements. Seeing all of these boxes, I just might need to speak with some supervisors.”

  “Oh, there was only one package outside the door,” London quickly assured, extending a small brown box labeled as belonging to Rhonda Snow at Snow White Bridal. “The rest of the boxes are mine. They were delivered at home, so I brought them here. I know I should have made two trips from my car, but I thought I could manage in one. Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

  “Well, business must be quite good if you’re needing all of these supplies.”

  Uncomfortable with discussing any aspect of her business with Rhonda, London replied vaguely, “Oh, it’s just restocking of some basic supplies like thread and a few more specific things I need for certain projects. No large quantities or large scale. I’m just trying to get things ramped up with the new shop space.”

  “I was just starting to worry since I haven’t really seen many clients in the past six weeks. I don’t want you to be in a situation where your new business can’t get off the ground, what with the rent and everything.”

  She’s worried I won’t pay her the rent, London interpreted, wishing Rhonda would just be upfront about it. But London had noticed that this wasn’t an entirely new pattern for Rhonda. She possessed a unique talent for phrasing things in such a way that even the most offensive or rudest comments and questions came out sounding sweet and innocent.

  “No, business is just fine,” London assured, subtly studying Rhonda to assess whether a simple answer would satisfy. Rhonda stood at least six inches shorter than London’s five-foot-eight inches, yet she out-paced London by multiple decade's worth of pounds. Unfortunately, Rhonda’s fashion tastes only accentuated her ample girth.

  In the weeks since London had moved in, she had not once seen Rhonda wear an outfit twice. Instead, it became of great interest to London to take notice and marvel at each day’s brightly colored and patterned ensemble. Rhonda preferred lots of brightly patterned blouses mixed with ‘80s professional wear. Her wardrobe of dress suits must rival that of Nancy Reagan, but Rhonda obviously took great effort in modernizing the look with wild patterned blouses, scarves, and daily accessories that included an assortment of large, bangled earr
ings and pendants that, in a pinch, could also double as a dinner plate. If Rhonda was feeling especially stylish and trendy, she’d abandon the suits for a loose, brightly-colored blouse atop patterns that should never have been sewn into a pair of leggings. Her crown of dyed reddish-brown hair and an ever-present pair of heels completed an eclectic style that London found both fascinating and disturbing.

  Wanting to make things abundantly clear, yet again, London explained, “I think I already mentioned that my business is quite different than that of Snow White Bridal. Most of my clients are online or through personal connections. Though I might greet a few local customers, I deal with a rather exclusive clientele, most of which are long distance. I needed the shop space not as much for a storefront, but for a workshop where I can create my designs. I may have clients come in for fittings every once in a while, but mostly, it will be me working by myself on gowns that will be worn at various venues around the world. I still plan to have a small portion of my space tastefully decorated for displays and meetings with clients, but the larger space will be a work area for me to design and create.”

  “Oh, yes, I know that’s what you explained. I was just worried about you. Starting a new business is so difficult, and I want you to be successful, dear.”

  London gritted her teeth, barely managing an “I appreciate that,” as Rhonda followed her to the large work table on London’s side of the store.

  In reality, London’s was not a new business. Her reputation and renown had grown considerably the past year. She’d worked hard and gotten noticed. Celebrities had commissioned her for wedding dresses and gowns for prestigious events. A “London Design” was now a thing, carrying a certain degree of status and recognition. Magazines had even covered her gowns and done articles on London Hutchins, the up-and-coming designer. However, there was always room to grow. She was still small-scale and enjoyed doing only the work she could complete herself, but in every sense, her business was thriving, which was the main reason that, even after occupying this location for about six weeks, her side of the building still looked bare. She simply hadn’t had the time to do anything but complete her considerable list of custom orders.

  But all of that success was nonexistent in small town Crossroads. Instead of the exclusive fashion designer, she was simply the same London Hutchins who’d grown up in Crossroads with her six siblings, graduated high school, and headed out to Hollywood after college. Now she was back home, presumably because she’d failed at her California dreams. In Crossroads, she’d always be one of Lydia and John Hutchins’ girls. Trying to prove her success would get her nowhere. She’d always be just one of them, no better, no worse.

  “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.”

  London often thought of the verse in Mark and how true it seemed, even for those who weren’t prophets. To what the rest of the world may recognize as special, your hometown simply sees as familiar.

  In some respects, the anonymity was nice. Nobody here cared what glamorous projects she was working on or the celebrity names she held in her contact list. Prestige didn’t matter. After all the pressure of trying to work her way to the inside circle of Hollywood, it was a relief to be in a different world where such social castes simply didn’t exist. It felt nice to simply be one of the Hutchins’ girls.

  Years in Hollywood had left London disenchanted. The magic had long faded, and she had tired of the superficial. All of the celebrities populating movies and magazine covers had their own Crossroads somewhere. Fame was rarely based on anything of depth. In fact, it was usually all pretense. There was value in a home where you could cherish the hope that opinions and respect could be based on someone’s character and not merely how they appeared on the outside.

  This disenchantment and longing for something real brought her back home and had prompted her to decide to use Rhonda’s offered space as headquarters for her fashion designing business. She knew managing the business so far away from her clients wouldn’t be easy, but home made her feel like she could finally breathe again.

  “Oh, Rhonda, you don’t need to do that!” London said in alarm, watching as Rhonda slid a pair of scissors through the tape and opened one of London’s boxes.

  “I have time to help,” Rhonda said cheerily. “No worries.”

  How did London say that she really didn’t want her help opening the boxes and going through her things? At a loss, London watched helplessly as Rhonda opened the packages to shuffle through the contents and inspect each item before shoving it back into the box and moving it aside to reach for the next one.

  London hurriedly ran a pair of scissors along the tape of each box, hoping to end Rhonda’s “help,” but the older woman casually went through all of the them, even the opened ones, before shoving the packages off to join the others on one end of the table.

  “Eww! What’s this?” Rhonda asked, lifting cream-colored material from a box. She held the silky fabric with the tips of her fingers as if afraid it were covered with cooties.

  “Please, be careful!” London cried in alarm. She gently took the material from Rhonda’s hands and swept the dress out of the box for examination. “This is an heirloom dress I have been commissioned to alter and redesign. The client is from Texas and entrusted me with her family’s wedding gown.”

  “Ugh! I’m sorry!” Rhonda gave a little shiver of revulsion. “I don’t redesign old dresses for exactly that reason. Sometimes they want you to redo an old dress that is completely hopeless. Do you think you can talk the customer into scrapping it for a new one?”

  “Absolutely not!” London replied, appalled. Turning a practiced gaze to the dress, she carefully examined the exquisite silk flowers and pearls embroidered into the silk. “This is a beautiful antique, and I’m honored to be asked to work with it. It just needs a few alterations, and it will be stunning. I think the client wants the skirt redone, but the detailing is exquisite. I don’t want to change those at all.”

  Rhonda shook her head sadly. “I wish I could save you the trouble, but some things you need to learn yourself, I guess. The dress is so old it’s yellowed, and the style is outdated to the point that you can’t do anything about it. Look at those long sleeves! I’ve been in this business for twenty-five years. I know when a dress is hopeless. I’m just sad to see you waste your time.”

  How can this woman have run a successful bridal business for so long with such hideous taste? London thought irritably. A few days ago, Rhonda had proclaimed Danielle’s ugly dress as beautiful, and now, she insisted this exquisite antique dress was beyond hope.

  Like Rhonda said, the silky fabric and lace was yellowed with age, but that didn’t bother London at all. The material had aged evenly, casting the dress in a warm, creamy glow. The embroidery was delicate and detailed with much higher quality than the modern mass-produced lace. While the lace sleeves on Danielle’s dress had looked cheap, these long sleeves looked elegant.

  The difficult part would involve expanding the dress for the new bride. From the measurements sent to London, the expansion would be more than just a little, and there was no additional fabric to work with. Adding difficulty was the fact that the dress had obviously already been altered multiple times before to fit other brides.

  However, London had an idea of how she could use some of the fabric from the existing skirt to subtly expand the bodice and then create a new skirt like the client requested. It wouldn’t be easy, but London really did love redesigning old dresses. It almost seemed more romantic to imagine the memories the dress had lived through and contribute a part in preparing it for more romantic memories today.

  “I’m confident that I can make it exactly the way that my client wants, and that’s what’s important,” London insisted. “Not everyone needs to think it’s beautiful, but if both the designer and the bride do, then I label it as a success.”

  Rhonda shrugged. “I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

 
Yes, and I’m beginning to worry that something is wrong with your eyes! Though she thought it, London refrained from making further comment. Instead, she hung the dress up on a hanger and put it away out of sight, not wanting the delicate garment to be further offended by Rhonda’s blind lack of appreciation.

  Thankfully, the little bell over the door rang, announcing a customer and relieving London of Rhonda’s attention. With the beginning of summer heralding in the wedding season, the shop stayed busy all morning. Some came in for fittings or shopping for THE dress while others came in for bridesmaids’ dresses or last-minute accessories.

  London finished the gown she’d been working on and packaged it for her client. She then worked on a few new designs before finally allowing herself the fun of setting up and decorating her display area.

  The building was conveniently divided into two sections. Snow White Bridal occupied the larger section, while London’s area was sectioned off from it with a series of columns and one long divider. The end result was that, while the two spaces remained connected, they were also separate. Customers could theoretically go from one business to the other while inside the building.

  Rhonda had never rented out the other space before, citing that she’d never found the right business to share the space of a bridal shop. When London moved back to town, her mother and Rhonda hatched the idea of the “perfect solution,” and Rhonda had delightfully offered to rent to London at a very affordable price. With business buildings at a shortage due to the recent progression of Crossroads’ tourism industry, London accepted, thankful that God had provided a way for her to come home and still maintain her dreams and income.

  “London, I’m supposed to meet the library ladies for lunch today,” Rhonda said, coming over and eyeing London’s display work with open skepticism. “Would you mind keeping an eye on the shop while I’m gone? I don’t have scheduled clients until this afternoon, but with so many weddings this weekend alone, I don’t want to close the shop for lunch and not be open if one of our brides needs something. I expected TeraLyn to be here to cover for me, but her class must have gone long. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl.”