The Dream Dress

  “Every eye in the place will be on you, honey.” Wilhelmina’s eyes misted over.

  “They’re right. It’s wonderful.” Scarlet took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Best of all, I don’t look overly inflated. That was my biggest fear.”

  “Overly inflated?” Bella’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “You would never understand, Bella.” Scarlet turned and the skirt made a lovely swishing sound. “You’re what—a size 2?”

  “Puh-leeze.” Bella groaned. “Before kids, maybe.”

  “Anyway, you’re teeny-tiny. And I’m sure you looked amazing in your wedding dress. But let’s just say that white isn’t the most slimming color, so I’ve been dreading wearing bolts and bolts of white fabric lopped around my body.”

  “Hardly bolts and bolts,” I argued. “And I’m trying not to be offended at that ‘lopped around my body’ comment. I hope you think more of my work than that.”

  Scarlet laughed. “Okay, okay, you’re right. My apologies.” She stared at her reflection and then did a twirl. “I’m past all of my fears now that I’ve seen myself in the dress. I don’t know how you’ve done it, Gabi, but you’ve made me look like I have a waist.”

  I could explain exactly how I’d done it, of course. I’d strategized the best design for her body type and come up with the perfect gown to emphasize the smaller waistline. The fuller skirt made the waist seem even smaller. The beadwork on the bodice drew the eye up, again showing off the narrower midsection. Beadwork I’d spent hours doing and had almost lost my job over.

  Bella gave Scarlet a motherly look. “Silly girl, you do have a waist.” She stood back, arms crossed, an admiring look on her face. “And it’s getting smaller every day.”

  “Not on purpose, really,” Scarlet said, then giggled. “I mean, I’m eating better and have been working myself to death, so I have lost quite a few pounds. But it’s not all diet and exercise. This corset thingy is doing its work, holding everything in place.”

  “Blame the corset if you like, but I’ve noticed a definite difference in you over the past few weeks, and it’s not just the glow of being in love.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” Scarlet reached out to give Bella’s hand a squeeze. “I wish I could say it came from working out at the gym or running laps or something. Truth is, I’m putting in a lot of hours at the bakery, so I don’t really have time to think about food right now.”

  “Surrounded on every side by baked goods?” Bella shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I put on three pounds every time I walk through the door of your bakery.” She went off on a tangent about sticky buns, which led to a funny conversation about hip size.

  As Bella and Scarlet gabbed, I pinned and tucked, trying to envision how I could take in the waistline another inch or so without destroying the beading I’d worked so hard on. Bella hadn’t exaggerated—Scarlet’s waist had definitely trimmed down. I should be celebrating alongside them, but I found myself calculating the extra hours it would take to downsize the dress in all the right places.

  I looked at Scarlet’s reflection in the mirror just in time to see her running her fingertips over the beading. She shook her head and sighed—a contented, blissful sigh. “I’m the happiest girl on the island.”

  In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the number of hours I’d worked. Not the lecture from Demetri when I’d arrived late. Not the loss of my day job. Not the backache from stooping over with needle and thread in hand. Nothing. Only the look of joy on the bride-to-be’s face. For that one instant, the exhaustion faded away, replaced by an inner zeal. All that remained was the absolute conviction that I was doing exactly what the Lord had called me to do . . . and I’d never been happier.

  Scarlet’s gaze shifted to me, and she grinned. “Gabi, I want to ask a favor.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “I want you to be one of my bridesmaids.”

  “Really?” Wow.

  “Well, sure. I love that we’re getting to be such good friends. Bonding over dresses and cakes and all things weddings. You know?”

  “I do. And . . . I’d be honored.”

  My mind reeled that she would ask me to join the wedding party. I didn’t know when I’d ever been more flattered. It looked like the dress design business might turn out to be about more than dresses. Maybe it had more to do with relationships.

  When we put the gown back on the dress form, Wilhelmina circled it, examining it from every side. She didn’t say anything for a moment. When she did speak, her words surprised me. “Gabi, I like this dress so much that I think I need to design a cake to match it.”

  “A matching cake?”

  “Yes. I love how you’ve done the ruffled skirt. The layering is exquisite, not like anything I’ve ever seen before. That would make a lovely bottom tier for the cake. And the princess-cut waistline is to die for. I see a layer with that design implement too. The beadwork on the bodice . . .” She picked up the fabric panel that I’d spent hours beading in the night. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And I think I can duplicate it, at least to some extent, on the upper-middle layers of the cake. Do you mind if I photograph this? That way I’ll get it just right. No guesswork.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Was she kidding? Just the opposite!

  “Tell you what I’m going to do.” Wilhelmina reached into her purse and came out with a tiny camera, which she used to snap photos from several angles. “I’ll take lots of pictures of the cake when it’s done and call it the ‘Gabriella.’ All of the cakes in my shop are named after various women I’ve met in my journey, so it just fits.”

  “But I’m not a bride,” I argued.

  She countered with, “Yet,” and then followed that with, “Someday.”

  “I keep telling her that,” Bella said. “Someday her prince will come.”

  “Someday is highly overrated,” I said. Still, I couldn’t get past what Wilhelmina had said. “Are you really planning to use my wedding dress as a design for the cake?”

  “I am. Maybe Scarlet will be the first in a long line of brides to have a cake with this design at her wedding. You never know. I can picture this being quite a popular cake design, if I duplicate what you have going on here.” She pointed to the lovely, long V at the waistline of the dress.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, this is wonderful. I can see it all in my imagination now.” Her gaze shifted to my wall. “Speaking of having an imagination, I notice you have a lot of Fred and Ginger pictures.”

  “Yes, I’m a huge fan.”

  “I’ve always loved them too.”

  “You have?” An arched eyebrow indicated Scarlet’s humorous surprise at this news. “You never told me, Aunt Willy.”

  “There hasn’t been much time for dancing in my life, but if I ever found the time, I’d want to be led around the dance floor by Fred or someone just like him—with his style, his grace, his great moves.”

  This got a laugh—make that a snort—out of Bella.

  “Fred Astaire is amazing,” I said. “But I’m more impressed with Ginger. She got overlooked a lot, I think, which makes me want to root for her even more.”

  “You think?” Wilhelmina looked startled by this. “You do know she won an award for best actress, don’t you?”

  “She did?” Somehow that fact had eluded me. “I guess I didn’t know it.”

  “Years ago. I was just a girl myself at the time. She won for a movie called Kitty Foyle.”

  “Strange. I don’t remember that one.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t one of the ones with Fred Astaire.” Wilhelmina gave me a knowing look as if this should all make sense. “Do you see my point?”

  “Not really,” I admitted.

  “She made it to stardom on her own, in a film that didn’t include him. In her own right she was a terrific actress, even without the guy on her arm. But sh
e’s best known for her movies with Fred, which didn’t win the big awards. So even though she didn’t technically need him to be successful, it was their on-screen romance that stood the test of time.”

  Interesting.

  “This whole conversation reminds me of what we talked about when we were all together before.” Scarlet turned to her aunt. “Bella says that Gabi has a Cinderella complex.”

  I groaned and fought the temptation to slug Scarlet on the arm. Why did she have to go there?

  “Well, that’s fascinating.” The fine lines on Wilhelmina’s forehead became more prominent. “You do realize that Ginger Rogers was in the made-for-TV version of Cinderella, don’t you?”

  “No.” How I’d missed that, I couldn’t be sure. “What part did she play?”

  “Kind of an obscure one,” Wilhelmina said. “She was actually the queen. Mother of Prince Charming.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Of course, this was after she’d aged a bit. But I find it very ironic, don’t you?”

  “Yes, do you think someone’s trying to tell you something here, Gabi?” Scarlet asked.

  “That I should go into television?” I smiled weakly.

  “No, goofy.” She slugged me on the arm now. Though she’d meant it to be a joke, it actually kind of hurt. Just my arm, not my feelings. “I’m just saying that maybe the Lord is trying to open your eyes—and your heart—to the idea that it’s time to get beyond the Cinderella complex. You’re not meant to hide in a closet, working. It’s time to let your little light shine, girl!”

  Somehow the mention of hiding in a closet provoked a conversation about a new pair of shoes that Bella had just purchased, which somehow led to a comment from Wilhelmina about her recent trip to the podiatrist, which, strangely, inspired Scarlet to give me a passionate speech about how God had the perfect fella out there for me, one with a glass slipper in his back pocket.

  Mimi Carmen walked in right as the words glass slipper were spoken and went off on a tangent about a new pair of house slippers that she’d seen at Walmart, which she hoped to get for her birthday. And that’s pretty much where the conversation about my Cinderella complex came to an end. Thank goodness.

  After a few minutes, my grandmother snapped her fingers. “I just remembered why I came in here. The pot roast and vegetables are done.” The next line she directed at me. “Your mama is due home from work any minute. Let’s not tell her just yet that you lost your job.”

  “Too late, Mimi. I called her this morning.”

  She groaned as we followed her into the kitchen. Mama showed up moments later, and Mimi served up heaping portions of the luscious beef stew with its bright orange carrots, celery, onions, and lots of potatoes.

  We’d no sooner taken our seats at the table when my cell phone rang. Glancing down, I saw an unfamiliar number. Well, unfamiliar at first. After a moment, I recognized it.

  “I’d better take this. It’s Nicolette.”

  Mimi nodded, and Scarlet offered up a rushed “I’ll be praying. It’ll be okay, Gabi.”

  I answered as I shot out of the room, heading for the privacy of my bedroom. “Hello?”

  “Gabi, I’m glad I caught you. There’s something I want to say.”

  “You want to say you’re sorry?”

  Nicolette seemed taken aback by this. “No, I want to say that I’ve come up with the perfect solution regarding the wedding dress debacle.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I’ve decided that I will wear the gown Demetri designed.”

  Waves of relief flooded over me, and I felt like I could breathe for the first time all day. “Oh, Nicolette, thank you! This makes my day!”

  “I’ll wear the gown Demetri designed to my reception.” She chuckled. “What do you think of that?”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It’s simple, Gabi. I’ll wear the gown that you’re making to my ceremony, and I’ll wear his gown to the reception. That way, when the story releases in Texas Bride, it will be true that I wore Demetri’s gown on my wedding day and he won’t be humiliated. Better still, I won’t have wasted my daddy’s money. This was all his idea, you see.” She laughed. “Who knows. Maybe Demetri will even give you your job back when I tell him. Stranger things have happened.”

  I thought about Jordan’s admonition to stay out of Egypt. “No, I don’t think I’ll be going back, even if he offers.” Still, I did have to wonder how he would respond to Nicolette’s idea.

  “Demetri told me that he threatened you with a lawsuit. Did you sign some sort of noncompete clause with him or something?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about. Besides, I’ve already told him that I’ll tell all of my friends at the Junior League to stay as far away from him as possible if he goes through with his threats. I think it scared him witless.”

  He doesn’t have far to go, then.

  I chastened myself for such an unkind thought.

  “Thank you for your support, Nicolette. If everything works out like you say, I would love to make your dress.”

  “Then I will be the happiest bride on the island.”

  She shared a couple more thoughts and then we ended the call, agreeing to meet up at the fabric store the day after tomorrow. Wow, had this day ever brought some interesting challenges . . . and opportunities. From out of nowhere, I had work appearing at my door.

  Looked like I had two wedding dresses to make, and both in a hurry!

  I’ll Be Hard to Handle

  No one can have everything. Because for every dream dreamed there arises another dream. For every hope hoped there emerges another hope.

  Ginger Rogers

  I worked late into the night, long after Scarlet and the other ladies left. Mama and Mimi Carmen shuffled off to bed, stopping by my room to scold me for working too hard, as always.

  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Mimi said, then waggled her finger at me. “Get some sleep tonight, sweet girl.”

  “I will.” And I did. I tumbled into the bed in the spare bedroom around midnight, with visions of wedding gowns dancing through my head and whispered prayers thanking God for his goodness on my lips.

  I awoke in the wee hours of the night with the eerie feeling that someone had come into the room. A shadow in the corner caught me off guard, and I gasped. A lifelike form hovered in the stillness, dark and creepy—the curve of a woman’s body.

  I couldn’t say a word—fear knotted itself in my throat. My heart rate doubled and I found myself breathless. But then my eyes grew accustomed to the dark and I made out the image with clearer vision.

  One of the dress forms.

  That’s all, Gabi. Just dress forms. They’re not real.

  It took a moment for my heart rate to slow and the blood to stop pounding in my ears. At this point I decided I’d had enough, so I got up and went to my own room, where I crawled into bed and slept like a log.

  I had planned to sleep in, which made sense after staying up so late two nights in a row. So when my cell phone rang at 8:15, I could hardly make sense of the sound. I glanced down to see the words Haute Couture on the screen and groaned aloud.

  I answered on the third ring but didn’t try to cover up the exhaustion in my voice this time.

  “Gabi, you’re late. Zis is not acceptable.”

  Demetri. Really?

  “No, Demetri. I’m not late. You fired me. I won’t be back.”

  “But Nicolette phoned and explained the whole thing. You are forgiven, Gabi. Don’t make me say it twice.”

  “I’m forgiven?”

  “Yes. And Genevieve Villiamson vill be here at nine for her fitting, remember? You’ve already met vith her once and—”

  “Let one of the Fab Five cover it.” I sat up in bed, my head still fuzzy. “I won’t be there, Demetri.”

  “But you’ve already vorked vith Genevieve and know her preferences. I really think you should—”


  “Demetri, stop right there.” I couldn’t believe my boldness to interrupt him, but the words tumbled forth like leaves on an autumn wind. “This whole hiring/firing relationship of ours just isn’t working for me.” I couldn’t believe those words had come out of me. Imagine! Mousy little me, speaking up for myself. I began to shiver as my nerves kicked in, so I pulled the covers up to my shoulders.

  “V-vhat did you say, Gabi?” His strained words came out slowly.

  “This on-again, off-again relationship of ours is tougher than a rocky marriage. And I haven’t done anything to deserve it, to be honest. Yesterday you accused me of many things—none of them true, by the way—and today you do an about-face and act as if it never happened. I just can’t live like that. It’s not healthy.”

  “But—”

  A jolt of courage propelled me to speak my mind again. “So, as much as it pains me to say this, I want a divorce.”

  “A vhat?” I could imagine the veins popping out on his forehead above those perfectly sculpted brows as he spoke.

  “A divorce. A parting of the ways.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Demetri. You have a lovely shop and create lovely designs with the help of five lovely women, but I need a different kind of lovely in my life. I think I’ll stick with what I do best.”

  “Alterations and mending?”

  “No. Designing wedding gowns. The very thing I was created to do. So go fetch Doria. She will know what to do when Genevieve arrives. And for once, Demetri, calm down. Situations like these are better handled when you’re not so worked up. It’s better for your health, and it’s better for those you work with.”

  He went silent and I wondered if he would speak again. His words, “You’re really not coming back zis time?” threw me a little. I heard the pain in his voice.

  “I’m not. But you’re going to be okay, I promise. Go. Get. Doria.”

  We ended the call, and I could almost envision him staggering across the shop to the studio out back. Doria would happily take on the project with Genevieve. She had been instrumental in creating the gown in the first place and would know just what to do.