Every Bride Needs a Groom Page 10

  “Ooh, this I’ve gotta see.” Without any other warning, Lori-Lou shot out of the workroom door and back into the shop. I felt sure she’d return with some whopper stories.

  “These Princess Brides are accustomed to getting what they want when they want it, with never a thought for cost. Daddy has deep pockets.” Madge smirked and reached for a notepad.

  Nadia glanced over at her and flashed a warning look.

  Madge clamped her mouth shut. “Anyway, how can I help?”

  “I’m taking measurements. You write everything down.” Nadia glanced up at me with a smile. “Hips are thirty-four inches.”

  I did my best not to groan aloud.

  “Now, while I measure, let’s talk styles,” Nadia said. “What sort of design are you looking at? French bustle? Trumpet skirt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I was thinking with your figure, maybe a modified sweetheart neckline? What do you think?”

  “Sweetheart?”

  “Something light. With an airy feel. Maybe a dropped waist? Ruffles?”

  “I . . . it sounds wonderful.”

  Nadia appeared to be thinking. “Maybe I should have asked what famous person we’re patterning this gown after. You have someone special that you like from days gone by?”

  “Oh, lots of famous movie stars.” In that moment, however, I couldn’t think of a single one. Nadia began a lengthy discussion about the various movie stars she’d patterned dresses after in the past. Her favorite, it turned out, was Grace Kelly.

  Several minutes into the conversation, Dahlia entered with Lori-Lou on her heels.

  “Wow, Katie! You should’ve seen that bride out there. She was . . . wow.” Lori-Lou gave Dahlia an admiring look. “Great job reining her in, girl. Impressive.”

  “Thank you.” Dahlia giggled. “I left her in Twiggy’s capable hands. She’s great with the Princess Brides.”

  “So you get that a lot?” Lori-Lou sat in a chair across from me and watched as Nadia measured the circumference of my neck.

  “Girl, we see all sorts.” Madge looked up from her tablet to join in the conversation. “You wouldn’t believe what we go through with the various brides that come in.”

  “What do you mean?” Lori-Lou looked confused.

  “Well, there’s the organized bride who knows what she wants, down to the style of dress and type of fabric,” Nadia said. She looked at Madge. “Neck size is 13.5 inches.”

  “Got it.” Madge wrote down the number.

  “There’s the spoiled rich girl bride who just wants a designer gown because it’s going to make her friends jealous,” Dahlia added. “You just saw one of those for yourself.”

  “There’s the ‘I’m so clueless I don’t know what I want’ bride,” Madge said. “And then . . .” She shuddered. “Then there are the really tough cases.”

  “Tough cases?” I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.

  Nadia stopped measuring me long enough to explain. “Sure. Brides whose parents just went through a divorce. Brides who’ve just lost a family member. Brides who want to be happy about their upcoming wedding, but just can’t seem to focus because of what they’re going through on the perimeter. Those poor girls can’t help that they’re going through trauma, so I do my best to wrap my arms around them and talk them through.”

  “We have other tough cases too.” Madge chuckled. “You gonna tell her about the double Gs, Nadia?”

  “Double Gs?” I asked.

  Nadia’s cheeks turned a lovely crimson shade. “The double Gs are the large-chested brides. Hard to fit, but just as deserving as every other bride-to-be. We get them in every shape and size around here, trust me. Short, tall, curvy, rail-thin . . . and we somehow manage to fit every one. But you . . .” She gave me a reassuring smile. “You are the ideal shape. Perfect for a magazine cover in every conceivable way.” She pulled the tape taut and then turned to Madge. “Bust size thirty-five inches.”

  I suddenly felt more than a little intimidated. “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I feel so out of place right now.”

  Nadia put the measuring tape down. “Why, honey? Have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable? I sure hope not. Maybe we’ve rushed into this? Perhaps I should’ve waited until Monday after all. I just thought that it would be nice to get this part over with, but I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or rushed.”

  “I’m just not used to . . .” I gestured around the room filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of materials. “This.”

  Nadia followed my gaze. “Being fitted for a couture gown, you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, that, and all of this. I’m just a small-town girl. This is very . . . new to me.”

  “You’ll get used to being pampered.” Nadia gave me a motherly smile. “We want to make you feel like a real princess.”

  “Accept it, Katie.” Lori-Lou glared at me. “It’s a gift.”

  “Sounds nice, but . . .” I said the only thing that came to mind. “Mrs. James, do you happen to know anything about Loretta Lynn?”

  “The country-western singer? Sure.”

  “Well, if you recall, she left her little hometown of Butcher Holler for the first time with her new husband, Doo. They drove all over creation trying to get radio stations to play her song and eventually ended up in Nashville. Remember?”

  “It’s been a long time since I saw the movie about her life, but I think I vaguely remember what you’re talking about. They took a road trip?”

  “Yes. They left Butcher Holler and set out for new places,” I explained.

  “An adventure,” Lori-Lou added. She reached for her phone as it beeped again.

  “Wait. Butcher Holler?” Dahlia looked back and forth between us. “Is that a place?”

  “Of course it’s a place.” Madge clucked her tongue. “You don’t know Loretta Lynn’s real-life story?”

  Dahlia shook her head.

  “Quite the tale,” Madge said.

  “Well, anyway, I feel kind of like Loretta Lynn right about now,” I said. “A fish out of water. That was my point.”

  “Dallas is your Nashville, in other words. Got it.” Madge slipped an arm over my shoulders. “You’ll be okay, kid. And we promise not to make you sing, if that makes you feel any better.”

  As she released her hold on me, I shrugged. “Dallas is still close enough to home to feel familiar, but big enough to intimidate me. And this shop . . .” I gestured to the room. “All of this pretty stuff—it’s way outside my norm. We don’t get a lot of niceties like this where I come from. It’s out of my element.”

  “But Loretta Lynn eventually felt at home in Nashville, especially on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry.” Madge gave me a knowing look. “It could happen to you too. Like Nadia said, we’ll turn you into a real princess.”

  “Yes.” Nadia clasped her hands together at her chest. “You’ll be a couture bride in no time.”

  I put my hand up in protest. “No thank you. Don’t want to fit in. Just call me a misfit and send me back home where I belong. When the dress is finished, I mean.”

  “Oh, but like I said, you’ve got the perfect physique for one of my gowns,” Nadia said. “And look at that gorgeous face of yours. I love everything about it, right down to the freckles and blonde hair. Between you and the dress, this is going to be the prettiest cover Texas Bride has ever seen. I can’t wait.”

  I sighed, unsure of what to say next.

  “Now, you’ve given me such a lovely idea.” A thoughtful look settled on Nadia’s face. “When you mentioned Loretta Lynn, actually. It occurred to me I’ve never patterned a dress after her.”

  “Ooh, perfect choice,” Madge said. “Frilly but simple. Small-town girl goes to the big city.”

  “I can see it now.” Nadia dropped her measuring tape and reached for a sketchpad. “What do you think, Katie? Would you like the idea of having a Loretta Lynn–inspired gown?”

  “Well, Queenie would
sure love it. She’s always quoting Loretta Lynn.”

  “Queenie?” Nadia, Madge, and Dahlia spoke the word in unison.

  “My grandmother. The matriarch of our family. She’s nuts about Loretta. She’d be tickled pink.” Of course, she has no idea I’m here and no idea I’m getting a gown at all, but she would be thrilled. After killing me. Okay, Queenie wouldn’t really kill me—I hoped—but this whole thing would certainly be enough to send her into a tizzy.

  “Glad you like the idea,” Nadia said. “I guess we’ll dive right in. Let me tell you how I work. First, the bride chooses her inspiration—in this case, Loretta Lynn. Then I craft a look specifically for her, with all of her inspiration’s elements. We’re going for something that says Katie and Loretta, all at the same time. Make sense?”

  “Well, sure, but . . .” Did I actually say I wanted a Loretta Lynn gown?

  “A bride has to trust her designer.” On and on Nadia went, talking about her plan for my life. My soon-to-be-married life, anyway. Not that I was soon to be married. Should I mention that? Just about the time I’d worked up the courage, she slipped the measuring tape around my waist and pulled it snug.

  “Oh, I’m sure anything you do will be brilliant,” I managed as I sucked in a breath to make myself as small as possible.

  “Twenty-six-inch waist,” she said.

  “I remember when I had a twenty-six-inch waist.” Lori-Lou sighed. “I think I was twelve at the time.”

  That got a laugh out of Dahlia.

  “We’ll start with sketching some designs,” Nadia said as she slipped the measuring tape around my upper arm. “I hope you can come back Monday to look over the final sketches before I have to get on the plane to Paris. I’ll leave Dahlia here to work on the sewing. That okay with you?”

  “Oh, whatever you think,” I said. “I’m easy.”

  “Come around eleven on Monday, if you can. At that time I’ll give you my suggestions for fabrics, trims, and so on. The fabric, I always say, is as much the inspiration for the gown as anything else. People underestimate the role that a good satin or crepe plays.”

  I was underestimating it even now. Then again, with a measuring tape looped around my arm, who had time to think of satin or crepe?

  “We’ll have to sign a contract for the gown at that point.”

  “A contract?” I felt panic well up inside of me.

  “Oh, no money will change hands, so don’t fret over that. Just a standard contract to say that you’ll give Cosmopolitan Bridal credit for the gown when you wear it.” The measuring tape slipped out of her hand. “When did you say your wedding was again, Katie? I can’t remember the date.”

  “Oh, I . . .”

  Madge threw a warning look my way. “Katie hasn’t settled on a date yet, Nadia, which gives us plenty of time. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “It helps.” Nadia looked relieved at this news. She picked up the measuring tape from the floor. “But we do have the impending deadline of the photo shoot on July 15, so we’ll have to move quickly. Just five weeks to design this dress and get it made. I don’t usually work this fast, but I feel sure I can do it with Dahlia’s help.” She gave her assistant an admiring smile.

  “Happy to be of service. This one’s going to be fun.” Dahlia’s rich Swedish accent laced her words.

  “Can we do it?” Nadia asked.

  “Even if I have to stay and work nights.” Dahlia gave her a confident look. “You can count on me.”

  “Thank you, sweet girl. I know I can. And I know this one means as much to you as it does to me.”

  “Oh, it does.” Dahlia’s eyes misted over. “I’m so excited I can barely think straight.”

  Yippy skippy. One more person who would hate me if I backed out.

  “The article is set to go live in Texas Bride the first week of October.” Nadia slipped the tape around my arm once more, then adjusted it. “I’ll trust that the finished product will be exactly what you had in mind, Katie.” She turned to Madge and said, “Upper arm is nine and three-quarter inches.”

  Lovely.

  “I remember when my arm was nine and three-quarter inches.” Madge made a funny face as she wrote down the number. “I was in kindergarten.”

  That got a laugh out of everyone in the room, especially Lori-Lou, who snorted.

  “I think we’re going to be good friends, you and me.” Madge nodded at my cousin.

  The ladies carried on and on, talking about the idea of using Loretta Lynn as an inspiration for my so-called wedding gown. I could tell that Nadia was growing more excited by the moment. How could I possibly burst her bubble? Clearly my news would crush the woman. And Dahlia too.

  No, I’d better keep my lips sealed for now and pray about how to open them later, at a more opportune time. Maybe I could send Nadia an email once she went to Paris. Perhaps that would be for the best. Until then, I’d sit here and listen to them ramble about fabrics, ruffles, and lace.

  After wrapping up the measurements, Nadia took a seat and started making some initial sketches. “This is just for fun, you understand. The finished work will come later. Initially, we just consult, gab, dream dreams, come up with ideas.”

  Only, I wasn’t really coming up with any ideas. Not that she happened to notice. Nadia kept sketching and gabbing.

  “It takes at least five or six fittings before we’re done. While I’m in Paris, Dahlia will be your go-to girl. And you can always talk to Brady. He’s . . .” The edges of Nadia’s lips turned up in a smile. “He’s been a great asset to the store.”

  This time Madge snorted.

  “Anyway, he’ll be here to help you with . . .” Nadia’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, he’s not much help with the design part.”

  “Or the sewing part,” Dahlia added.

  “Or the management part,” Madge threw in.

  “But he’s great with public relations.” Nadia put her index finger up in the air. “And he’ll be in charge of coordinating things with the people from Texas Bride, so he’s your go-to guy, Katie.”

  “Got it. Brady’s my go-to guy.” I could almost picture the tall basketball player as my go-to guy now. I’d go straight to him and share the news that my wedding was nothing but a farce. Then he could go to his mother and share the news with her. Perfect.

  “At any point, we’ll get this done.” Nadia continued to sketch out her ideas. The simplistic design drew me in at once. Apparently Lori-Lou loved it too. The two of us stood over Nadia’s shoulder, watching the magic take place.

  “Wow, that’s great, Nadia,” I found myself saying. “I love the sweetheart neckline. And the ruffles are just right.”

  “Very Loretta Lynn, but not over the top,” Lori-Lou chimed in.

  “Thanks.” Nadia looked up from her sketchpad, her eyes brimming with tears. “Have I mentioned how excited I am about this one, Katie?” She reached out to grab my hand. “This is really a dream come true, for all of us. Your happily ever after is playing a role in my happily ever after. I’m going to have a dress on the cover of Texas Bride, and you’re going to get the gown of your dreams. It’s all so . . . perfect.” Her voice quivered.

  Yes, indeed. It was all so perfect. Unless you counted the part where the whole thing was based on a half-truth.

  “It’s an answer to prayer,” Nadia whispered. “Truly.”

  Lori-Lou nudged me with her elbow and I glared at her, then settled my gaze on the sketch once again. Wow, this woman really knew her stuff. Watching the design come together made me think, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, I would really get to wear this dress. Someday. Yes, perhaps after all I’d get to have my happily ever after. Until then, however, I’d have to wait for the perfect opportunity for my go-to guy to get to work fixing all of this for me.

  12

  Somebody’s Back in Town

  A city is a state of mind, of taste, of opportunity. A city is a marketplace where ideas are traded, opinions clash, and eternal conflict may produce eter
nal truths.

  Herb Caen

  I somehow managed to make it through the rest of the weekend. Sunday morning was spent at Lori-Lou and Josh’s church, a place unlike any I’d ever visited. They called the large metal building with its massive parking lot and drum-infused music a megachurch. No doubt Mama would’ve called it a rock and roll concert and would’ve scheduled an appointment with the pastor forthwith to change the structure of the service to include more hymns and fewer flashing lights.

  Still, I found myself clapping along and connecting with the lyrics of the songs, particularly the third one, which had a resounding faith theme. Even the sermon seemed to fit my situation. The pastor took his text from Proverbs, specifically focusing on lying. Ironic, since I’d agreed not to come clean with Brady or his mother about my wedding . . . or lack thereof.

  I hardly slept on Sunday night, what with the baby fussing for hours due to teething issues. Monday morning came far too soon. Josh took off for work, and Lori-Lou spent the morning on the phone with several of her friends, trying to find a sitter, but to no avail. With no other choice but to take the kids with us, we headed back to Cosmopolitan to meet with Nadia one last time before she left for Paris. I still felt a little guilty about agreeing to Madge’s plan. I’d rather just come clean before Nadia left the country, but what could I do? Madge intimidated me—perhaps as much as Queenie.

  Queenie.

  I sighed as I thought about my grandmother. I wondered if she was still mad at the Presbyterians. Boy howdy, she would’ve had a field day with the megachurch folks.

  Lori-Lou didn’t seem to notice my concerns as she drove us to the bridal shop. She gabbed on and on about a rental house Josh had found online while the kids hollered at each other in the backseat.

  “It’s going to be perfect for us, Katie,” she said above the noise from the children. “With an extra bedroom we can use as a playroom.” She pursed her lips. “I remember the days when we would’ve killed for an extra room to use as an office. Now every square inch of the house is covered in toys. Getting married and having kids changes everything.”

  Gee, thanks. Another crushing reminder of my current state of singleness.