The Dream Dress

by Janice Thompson

  Hmm. “Well, yeah. Sort of.”

  Not that sewing was the first thing I thought of when Demetri came to mind, but whatever.

  My thoughts shifted back to the sermon I’d heard on Sunday about forgiveness. Then Scarlet’s story about the woman she’d held in unforgiveness resurfaced in my memory as well. Suddenly, thinking about sticking pins in Demetri—the dress form version—didn’t hold as much appeal.

  Shame washed over me as the truth settled in. I really just needed to forgive my boss for overlooking me and then move forward with my life. Set myself free from the proverbial prison, as it were.

  “I’m going to get this, Gabi.” Jordan’s voice roused me from my ponderings.

  “Jordan, I really don’t think you need to waste your time doing that.”

  “No.” He put his hand up. “I’m still working on it. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out. I’m really good at riddles.”

  Somehow I doubted he would ever figure out I’d named the dress form after my boss. I hoped not, anyway.

  “Riddle-dee-dee,” he said with a boyish grin.

  I tried not to match his smile. Those sparkling eyes drew me in, captivating me. They made me forget about . . . well, everything else.

  Back away from the light, Gabi.

  I shifted my attention back to the female dress form. Ginger currently wore a size 14 gown in off-white—one of Demetri’s more recent creations. I wasn’t crazy about it, but the plus-sized brides seemed to appreciate the empire waistline. A corseted look would’ve suited most of them better, but I kept my opinions to myself. I’d gotten pretty good at that, actually.

  Unless you counted Ginger. I shared my thoughts with her much of the time, but she kept silent on most matters. Okay, all matters.

  Jordan didn’t keep silent, however. He continued to chatter, rambling on about the male dress form, which he pulled out of the corner and now addressed personally.

  “Happy to make your acquaintance, Stitch,” he said as he extended his hand in the dress form’s direction. “My name is Jordan Singer.”

  I tried not to chuckle. Still, how could I help it, with my nerves being in such a frazzled state today? My defenses all but melted away at his appealing smile, and before long I found myself laughing.

  My reaction seemed to please Jordan. Amusement flickered in his eyes as they met mine. After a second, he turned back to the dress form, all smiles.

  “Oh, what’s that?” Jordan asked. “You say you’re shy? Too shy to give your real name?” He glanced my way. “There’s a lot of that going around, but don’t you worry about it, Stitch. I’ll figure this out sooner or later.” He slung his arm around the dress form’s shoulder.

  “I told you, his name isn’t Stitch,” I scolded.

  “Yes, well, that’s just a nickname for the time being.” Jordan turned the dress form around, examining him from all sides. “Honestly, he still looks like a Hem-ry to me.”

  I just shook my head and did my best to hide the smile that tried to creep up.

  “Anyway, it’s been nice meeting you, Stitch,” Jordan said with a trace of laughter in his voice. “I hope to see more of you.” His gaze traveled from the dress form to me as he added, “Much more,” and I suddenly understood his meaning. He didn’t care to see more of Stitch. He wanted to see more of me. The idea made me giddy. Or was that the effect of today’s craziness?

  “So . . .” His gaze shifted down to his feet, then he looked my way with a sheepish expression on his face. “I’ve been beating around the bush, but I really just want to come out and ask you something.”

  “Sure.”

  As long as it doesn’t involve Demetri or Nicolette, we’re fine.

  He worked the toe of his boot against the floor. “I know you were too busy yesterday to grab lunch . . .”

  “I’m really sorry about that. I was just . . . well, it was the Demetri thing, to be honest. Lots of things were stirring when you were here.”

  “Right. I get that now. And by the way, thank you for asking him to call me. He seemed pretty much himself when I went to see him at the hospital.”

  “I’m sure things will be back to normal soon.” Not that Demetri’s normal was exactly fun and games, but it would be nice to get past the “my boss is losing it” stage.

  “So you weren’t avoiding me?” Jordan asked.

  “No. Everything was just so . . . complicated.”

  “Okay, I was hoping it had more to do with all of that, to be honest, because I really stopped by to see if you might like to go to dinner.”

  Those beautiful eyes seemed to pierce right through me, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah, but if you’re not able to, that’s okay. I’ll understand. We could go tomorrow night. Or the night after.”

  “No, it’s fine. Sounds good, actually.” But then I remembered the meeting with Scarlet. “Ooo, maybe not.”

  His expression soured and his lips curled down in a pout. “Really?”

  “Well, I’m supposed to meet Scarlet at the fabric store at 6:30 this evening. We’re picking out fabrics for her wedding dress.”

  “But you have to eat, right? I’ll just come with you to the fabric store and we can catch dinner after. If you’re okay with that.”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” I shook my head as I tried to picture this handsome reporter milling through a fabric store. “I mean, dinner sounds great, but you’ll be bored out of your mind in a fabric store, trust me.”

  “You might be surprised.” The look of interest in his eyes caught me off guard. “For your information, I’m very artsy. And like you, I’ve worked with fabrics.”

  “You have?” This certainly got my attention.

  “Well, not worked with them, exactly. But I did a great article on high-end wedding fabrics last year, in fact. I could tell you anything you want to know about satins, tulles, and silks—whether we’re talking local or imports. And don’t even get me started on lace trims. We’ll be here all night.”

  “Well, all right then.”

  I chuckled and almost missed the faint sound of Kitty’s voice from the hallway outside my room. “Hey, Gabi, you still in there?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “Good,” she called out. “I just put the closed sign on the door. I wanted to let you know that Demetri called. You’ll be happy to hear he’s checking out of the hospital with a new prescription for Xanax in hand, as well as a couple of other meds he couldn’t pronounce. He’ll be back tomorrow, no doubt ready to rule the roost with an iron fist.”

  “Kitty, please st—”

  “What was the deal with Nicolette?” she said, her voice getting louder now. “She sure left in a hurry. Please tell me you changed her mind and talked her into wearing the gown Demetri designed for her. Otherwise I think we might just have to medicate him further.”

  I released a loud groan and slapped myself on the forehead as Kitty stepped into the doorway, still ranting about the dress situation. She took one look at Jordan and looked like she might faint. For that matter, I felt a little woozy myself. I swallowed hard, pinched my eyes shut, and prayed for a miracle.

  Really? Could this day get any crazier?

  Swing Time

  Either the camera will dance, or I will.

  Fred Astaire

  I’d seen Kitty flustered plenty of times—take the hairpiece incident, for example—but never like this. She placed her forehead against the doorjamb and began to talk to herself, rambling on and on about how life as she knew it had just come to an end.

  Jordan took several quick steps in her direction and put his hand on her arm. “It’s okay. I already knew about Demetri being hospitalized. Like I said, I went by to see him.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Kitty turned to face him, then shook her head. “You didn’t know about the whole Nicolette wedding gown fiasco, and now you do. And I’m so fired.”

  “No you’re not, because I’m not going to say anything about any
of this. My article’s not due to my editor for another week, so I’ll just change the slant.”

  “Are . . . are you sure?” For the first time, the color seemed to return to her face.

  “Very sure.” The kindness in his voice mirrored the expression in those gorgeous eyes of his. “So please, don’t worry.”

  His words put me at ease right away. Kitty seemed to relax a bit too.

  Still, we had one more topic to address, one sure to get her wound up all over again. I fought to swallow the lump in my throat and then spoke.

  “Um, Kitty, while we’re coming clean, I might as well let you know something else. Nicolette knows that Demetri’s in the hospital.”

  “How does she . . . ?” Kitty squeezed her eyes shut. “No, I don’t want to know.”

  “It happened exactly the same way you just told me about the dress,” Jordan said. “I came through the door talking about my visit to Demetri in the hospital, not knowing that Nicolette was in here. It was totally my fault.”

  “When Demetri hears this, he’s going to check himself back into the hospital.” She dropped into my chair and began to fan herself.

  “Actually, I wouldn’t worry about Nicolette saying anything to him about his . . . well, his condition,” I said. “She’s got other things on her mind right now.”

  Kitty gave me a “what are you talking about?” look, but I just shrugged and reached for my sketchbook.

  “That’s a whole other story. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” A glance at the clock on the wall revealed the time—5:40. “I’m supposed to meet Scarlet at the fabric shop at 6:30 and it’s on the mainland, so I’ve got to get out of here. You just go home and take a bubble bath and . . . just pray. God will take care of this.” The words came tumbling out, and as I spoke them, I realized that I totally believed them.

  Kitty still didn’t look convinced, and I knew we’d have a lot to work out tomorrow, but for now I needed to hit the road. Scarlet would be waiting.

  Jordan followed me out of the store and pointed to his car. “I’m parked just down the Strand. You okay to leave your car here while we’re gone?”

  “Sure. Maybe someone will take it.” I flashed a sarcastic smile.

  He opened the door on the passenger side—very gentlemanly—and I took a seat, doing my best to appear calm. With so much stirring in one day, my thoughts whirled around like fruit in a blender.

  Thank goodness Jordan kept the conversation going as he drove. When he asked me to tell him about the fabric store, I dove right in, thankful for the diversion.

  “Well, for one thing, the store is huge,” I said. “Worth driving the distance to get there. They’ve got everything from everyday fabrics to high-end designer bolts in the two-hundred-dollar-a-yard range. And you should see the trims.”

  “Ooo, trims!” He grinned.

  “We’ll probably be buying some tonight.” I felt my eyes glaze over as I pictured them. “Everything a bride—or bridesmaid—could ever want to embellish her dress.”

  I shifted to talking about Scarlet’s gown, and before long I’d opened my sketchpad. When we pulled into the parking lot at the store, Jordan turned the car off and gave my designs a closer look. He flipped from one page to the next, not saying a word.

  Finally he cleared his throat. “Gabi, can I ask you a question?” He spoke to me but never looked my way. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on my sketches.

  “Sure.” I leaned his way, so close, in fact, that the smell of his cologne drew me in.

  “You did all of these?”

  “Yes.”

  He raked his fingers through that gorgeous hair and narrowed his gaze. “They’re better than anything I’ve seen in Demetri’s shop. In fact, they’re better than most of the dresses we’ve featured in the magazine.”

  Okay, now he was teasing me. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No I’m not.” He eased the sketchbook out of my hand and gently turned to the next page.

  “Don’t look at that one.” I groaned. “It’s not done yet. I was just messing around with an idea.”

  “Well, keep messing. Your messing is going to end up being some bride’s blessing.” He chuckled. “To be honest, I stole that line from a TV preacher. Well, not the bride part. I don’t aspire to be a poet, but it just seemed to fit.” Another turn of the page revealed the dress that Nicolette had fallen in love with.

  From across the parking lot I caught a glimpse of Scarlet entering the store with an elderly woman at her side.

  “Uh-oh.” I took my sketchbook back and closed it, then tucked it into my bag.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Looks like Scarlet’s not alone.”

  “Is that her grandmother?” Jordan asked as he swung his door open.

  “I don’t think so. I’ve heard for weeks about her infamous aunt Willy. I’m guessing this is her.”

  Jordan came around to my side of the car and opened my door. He extended his hand and I took it, not because I needed help from the car but because it felt like the right thing to do. The comfortable thing to do.

  We walked into the store, and Scarlet gave me a wave, her right eyebrow elevating as she noticed Jordan. “You made it! Both of you.” A little wink followed.

  She wrapped me in a warm hug, and I fought the temptation to respond with, “You have no idea what I went through today before getting here!” Instead, I just said, “Yep, I made it. Ready to shop?”

  “More than ready. Mama’s teaching a ladies’ Bible study tonight, so I’ve invited someone very special to help me pick out fabrics.” She stepped back and nodded toward the elderly woman to her right. “Gabi and Jordan, let me introduce my aunt, Wilhelmina Lindsey.”

  “Wilhelmina Neeley,” the older woman corrected. “Scarlet seems to have forgotten my married name.”

  Scarlet’s face turned crimson. “It’s just going to take me awhile to get used to the idea, Auntie.” She giggled then glanced my way. “My aunt just got married a few weeks ago. Surprised us all.”

  “Wait . . . Neeley?” I tried to make sense of this. “Are you related to Bella?”

  “In a roundabout way,” Wilhelmina answered with a smile. “I’m married to her husband’s uncle Donny. We live in Splendora.”

  “But your name was Lindsey before?” These words came from Jordan, who seemed more than a little interested. “You were—or are—Wilhelmina Lindsey, owner of Crème de la Crème bakery in Houston?”

  “The one and only.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Heard of it?” His eyes took on a dreamy expression. “It’s the best bakery in the state. Maybe the whole country. I’ve covered a lot of bakeries for the magazine, but none like yours. Best chocolate scones I’ve ever tasted. Oh, and those thick macadamia nut cookie bars? Man.”

  Scarlet cleared her throat, and I jabbed Jordan with my elbow. He turned to Scarlet. “I mean, I hear your place is great too.”

  “Thanks.” Scarlet sighed. “But you were right the first time. Auntie’s place in Houston really is famous, and she really is the best baker in the state.”

  “Speaking of great bakers, we did a piece on your new chef a couple of weeks back,” Jordan said as he turned back to face Wilhelmina. “He’s settling in really well, from what I could see.”

  “Kenny?” Scarlet asked.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Jordan nodded. “Kenny. Great guy.”

  I bit my lip, knowing that Scarlet and Kenny had once dated. Time to change the subject. “I guess we’d better get busy,” I said as I took a couple of steps toward a bolt of beautiful white satin. “The store closes at eight, and we’ve got a lot to look at.” I took Scarlet by the arm. “Let’s start with the satins and then move to the silks, okay?”

  Jordan and Wilhelmina tagged along behind us, completely wrapped up in their own conversation about the wedding biz. Well, until Scarlet and I settled on a 160-dollar-a-yard bolt of imported silk.

  “I love it, Gabi, but
it’s way more than I can spend.” Her nose wrinkled. “You know my budget.”

  Yes, I knew the amount of the check she’d given me on Sunday. Clearly this fabric would never work. In my dream world, maybe, but not in reality.

  Wilhelmina nudged her way between us and ran arthritic fingers over the exquisite fabric. “It’s lovely. I did the cake for the governor’s daughter’s wedding last June. Her gown was in a similar fabric, but I don’t believe it was quite as nice as this.” After examining it for a moment, Wilhelmina faced me. “This is my niece’s big day and I want her to have the dress of her dreams, so we’ll take it, no matter the cost.”

  “Oh, but Aunt Willy!” Scarlet’s eyes filled with tears. “I mean, Aunt Wilhelmina. You don’t need to do that. Gabi’s design is perfect, and I’m sure the dress will turn out great, even if we go with a different fabric.”

  “But this is the one that makes you smile.” Wilhelmina took Scarlet’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And if anyone deserves to be happy, you do.” The elderly woman glanced my way. “We’ll definitely take it, no arguments. Buy as many yards as you need. I’ll cover the cost of the fabric. You can keep the check she’s already given you to put toward your labor.”

  “Wow.”

  Wilhelmina reached inside her purse and came out with a credit card and then looked me in the eyes. “Besides, my dear, your design alone is worth more than what she’s already given you. I must admit, I’ve never seen anything finer, and I’ve seen a lot of wedding gowns over the years.”

  My heart swelled with pride at this proclamation, and I felt a boost of confidence.

  “You should see the rest of her designs.” Jordan lit into a long “let’s compliment Gabi until she’s overwhelmed” episode, going on and on about my various sketches. Scarlet joined in, and before long her aunt was off on a tangent, telling me that I needed to open my own shop.

  I managed to divert their attention to another department of the store, where we located the perfect Irish lace to complement the silk. After that I pointed out some of my favorite fabrics for the bodice, and Scarlet practically swooned. So did her aunt, who insisted we purchase anything and everything we needed to make this the loveliest dress any bride had ever worn.