The Dream Dress

by Janice Thompson

  As soon as she spoke the words “good man,” I expected to flinch. To feel some sort of reaction. Strange. The words didn’t hurt like they had this morning. Not at all.

  At that very moment, Jordan rounded the side of the house, basketball in hand. He looked my way and the most gorgeous smile lit his face. Scarlet must’ve noticed, because she nudged me. “Something’s going on there. I know it.”

  I shushed her as he walked our way. Yes, something was going on between us, no doubt about that. But this wasn’t the time or the place to talk about it.

  Jordan met us on the veranda and joined in the goodbyes, then reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know we didn’t have much time together, just the two of us,” he said. “But it still felt like it. Great family day.”

  I couldn’t have put it better myself.

  We thanked Bella’s family for a wonderful afternoon and made our way down the front steps. When we got to our cars, Bella came tearing my way, holding little Rosa-Earline, who was still half asleep.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. “Truly happy.”

  “Happy for what?” Scarlet asked.

  “She’s going to the ball.” Bella giggled.

  Scarlet looked genuinely perplexed. I put my hand on her arm and smiled. “I’ll call you later,” I promised. “But it’s good. All good.”

  “Ah, the world is a happy place! I can’t wait to hear it!” Scarlet turned toward her car, then looked back at me, her eyes growing large. “Ooo, Gabi. I almost forgot.”

  “What?”

  “Aunt Willy’s coming into town tomorrow night, remember?” Scarlet’s nose wrinkled at this statement. “She called me this morning to remind me. I know you’ve been working on the pattern, and I don’t want to pressure you, but it would be great if we had something to show her after all the money she’s spent.” Scarlet’s eyes took on a pleading look, and she reached to grab my hand.

  “I . . . I’ll do my best, but no promises, okay? I’ve got the pattern cut and the sample pieces started, but the actual dress is a long way from being complete.”

  “Oh, I know. I think she just wants to catch the vision.”

  Catch the vision. Interesting choice of words. After everything that had happened today, I felt as if I’d caught the vision. God had big things ahead for me, I just knew it. And maybe, just maybe, if I kept my eyes on the prize—whatever that happened to be—I could watch that vision unfold in front of me. In the meantime, I would put my nose to the grindstone and work on Scarlet’s dress when I got home. Really, with her squeezing the life out of my hand like that, what else could I do?

  Let’s Face the Music and Dance

  All the girls I ever danced with thought they couldn’t do it, but of course they could. So they always cried. All except Ginger. No, no, Ginger never cried.

  Fred Astaire

  I arrived home from Bella’s house ready to dive into my work. With Mama and Mimi both napping, the house stayed eerily quiet. Fidgeting around on the radio, I finally came across a station that had music similar to what I’d heard in Scarlet’s church. Not the Splendora Sisters’ gospel style. More like the songs the band played. Might take some getting used to, but hearing about God’s love while working on a wedding dress seemed appropriate.

  Mimi called out to me around seven o’clock to say that she’d warmed up some leftovers. I swallowed down a few bites of food, barely tasting them, and then headed back to my sewing room.

  “How’s it coming in there?” Mama asked as she stopped by before going to bed. “Looks like you’ve got a little sewing done.”

  “I’ve sewn the sample pieces together, and you can see the design of the dress now. But I haven’t cut into the actual fabric yet.” A little yawn escaped. “Scarlet’s aunt is coming to see the progress tomorrow, but she’s just going to have to catch the vision with this fabric, not the real thing.” I paused. “Unless I change my mind and decide to cut some of the pieces out tonight. I haven’t decided for sure yet.”

  “She paid for the fabric?” Mama asked. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Yes, and it was awfully expensive.” Glancing over at the yardage, which I’d laid out on the guest bed, I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine being able to afford a dress this costly.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll have the dreamiest wedding dress of all, Gabriella.” Mama walked into the room and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. “A real Cinderella gown, straight from a fairy tale. One fit for a royal ball.”

  I found myself smiling. Little did she know that I’d spent the afternoon talking to Bella about that very thing. So I told her. I shared the whole story—including the part where I’d prayed to ask Jesus into my heart.

  “Bella said it was like accepting an invitation to the ball,” I explained. “I get it now. The King was asking me to dance.”

  Mama’s eyes misted over. “I’m so glad, Gabi,” she said. “It just seems so . . . fitting.” A little shrug followed. “I haven’t thought much about God things for years, but I have to admit, this whole day really stirred my heart.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Given me a lot to think about.” Mama slipped her hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. “Wore me out, though.”

  “Me too.” My yawn echoed hers.

  “Don’t stay up too late, sweet girl,” Mama said. “You need your beauty sleep.”

  I nodded but wasn’t sure I could keep that promise. We said our good nights and she headed off to bed. I could hear Mimi Carmen snoring in the next room. Nothing unusual there. Still, I felt compelled to turn up the radio a bit to cover the noise. Then I dove back in, determined to get as much done as I could before going to bed.

  Off in the distance, the hallway clock struck the hour. Eleven? Twelve? I’d lost count. Whenever I got in the zone, time didn’t matter. All I could see, think, hear, or smell was the project in front of me. At the present, that project was the bodice of Scarlet’s wedding dress. The sample pieces came together nicely. I made the decision to cut into the expensive fabric and prayed all the while as I tried to keep my hand steady on the scissors.

  So far, so good. The cut pieces looked great. So great, in fact, that I decided to keep moving forward. I worked until my back ached, beading the most intricate design I’d ever attempted. In my mind’s eye, I could see it so clearly. But the beading process seemed to take more time than I’d anticipated, both frustrating me and propelling me to work harder than ever, no matter the hour.

  Somewhere around two in the morning I stopped for a potty break. Though my body ached to be put to bed, I could not still my thoughts long enough to give the idea serious consideration. All that mattered was the beading project I’d started. One thing could be said of Gabi Delgado—she finished what she started, no matter how long it took or how many calories it burned.

  I finally gave up around 4:30, my now bleary vision presenting a problem. Somehow I staggered to my bed, tumbling in before setting my alarm. Surely I would wake up on time. I always did.

  Only, I didn’t. Not this time. When I rolled over in the bed, my body stiff and sore, streams of sunlight poured in through the slatted blinds. I had that weird out-of-body experience where I thought—hoped, really—I was dreaming all of this. Reaching for the alarm clock, I did my best not to panic. Until I saw the time, at which point I went into full-blown freak-out mode.

  Demetri would kill me. KILL me. After firing me, of course. Why today, of all days? The poor man was still battling frazzled nerves after his hospitalization.

  My cell phone rang and I grasped it, my breaths coming a little shorter when I saw Demetri’s phone number. No longer able to put off the inevitable, I answered with a hesitant “Hello?”

  “Gabi, you had better be lying on zee side of zee road bleeding.”

  “E-excuse me?”

  “Please tell me something catastrophic has happened. I can’t imagine any other reason vhy you would go mee-sing on such an important day.”r />
  “Important day? No, I don’t really have that much on my plate today, Demetri. In fact, I—”

  “Nicolette called, and she’s coming back in for a private consultation. She said it vas urgent and insisted you be here.”

  Oh. No!

  “She’ll be here in twenty-five minutes and—”

  “I’ll be there, I promise. I’m sorry, Demetri. I really am. I—”

  What to say, what to say?

  Fortunately—or unfortunately—I didn’t have to say anything. Mimi Carmen did it for me. She appeared in my doorway, eyes wide, rambling in Spanish about how I’d overslept, about how she’d worried herself to death pacing the living room, afraid to open my door for fear she would find a dead body inside.

  Demetri heard every word, but I couldn’t be sure he was able to handle the translation from Spanish to English. Ending the call, I flew out of bed, assured Mimi I was fine, dressed while brushing my teeth, and pulled my hair back into a loose bun. Hopefully the wrinkles in my cheek from the pillowcase would fade before I got to the shop.

  They didn’t.

  “Vhat happened to your face?” Demetri’s gaze narrowed as he took several quick steps toward me once I entered the shop.

  “Oh, I . . .” My purse slid off my shoulder and clunked to the floor. I reached down to pick it up. “Nothing that I know of.”

  The Dynamic Duo passed by me on their way to the front of the store. Lydia paused to stare at me, then whispered something unintelligible to Corinne.

  “You look like something zee cat dragged in,” Demetri hissed under his breath as he passed by. “Vash away zee dark circles under your eyes vith a strong cup of coffee and head to your office so zat Nicolette doesn’t notice.” He shook a frantic finger in my face. “I’ve been beside myself, Gabi.”

  Great. That would make two of him.

  “I’m only fifteen minutes late,” I said. “I’ll stay after and make up the time, no problem.”

  “Yes, you vill. In the meantime, do something about your face. Nicolette vill be here soon.” He turned on his heels and marched across the shop toward his office.

  I raced to my workroom and stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. Okay, so I had a few wrinkles from my pillowcase. Big deal. And yeah, the mascara on my right eye dribbled down onto the skin below. That was an easy fix.

  Grabbing a tissue, I went to work. Just as I managed to make the mascara mess even worse, Kitty’s voice sounded from the doorway. “Are you okay, Gabi?”

  “Hmm?” I nodded. “Yeah. Fine. Wish I’d had time to stop for coffee, though.”

  “I can make some. Don’t mind a bit.” She paused and I could read the concern in her eyes. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.”

  I tried to force back the little yawn that threatened to escape but could not. “F-fine.”

  “You sick?” She tilted her head to the right and gave me a closer look, much like a doctor would give a patient.

  “No, no.” I shook my head and felt my cheeks warm. “Just . . . busy.”

  “Well, I’ll have a talk with Demetri. He must really be overworking you for you to come dragging in here looking threadbare.” She grinned. “Threadbare. Ha. Not sure where that came from.” Her expression shifted to one of concern. “Still, he’s got you going around the clock, and it’s obvious you’re not in any shape to keep working at this pace.”

  I felt a little wave of panic. “No, please don’t say anything to Demetri. This time it’s not his fault.”

  He had no idea I stayed up half the night working on designs for other people, now did he? A niggling of guilt crept up my spine. In spite of my feelings of angst toward Demetri, I owed him a good day’s work. He paid me to do a professional job, and I couldn’t let my nighttime escapades—if one could call them that—distract me from the work I actually got paid for. Not any longer.

  “I really hope you’re all right, Gabi,” Kitty said. “Because Nicolette is on her way in. She’s going to talk to Demetri about her dress. Only problem is, none of us seems to know which dress she’s referring to, the one he made for her or something else entirely. So I think—”

  Kitty never had time to finish the sentence. The door swung wide and Nicolette entered. She pulled off her sunglasses, crossed her arms over her ample chest, and glanced at me. “Gabi! Good. You’re here.” She grabbed me and whispered in my ear, “I decided we should tell him together. This is going to be so much fun!”

  “But I never really agreed to—”

  “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to make my dress.” She giggled, now the carefree, giddy bride once more. “Quite a relief, I tell you. For a while there I thought I might just have to fly off to New York or Paris for my gown. But you’ve saved the day!”

  At this point Kitty shot out the door in what appeared to be a panic. Seconds later Demetri rushed into the room, the fakest smile I’d ever seen plastered across his face. Nicolette swooped over to give him a hug. Demetri, not the hugging sort, took her hand and kissed it.

  “And how is my favorite customer?” he asked, his voice a little too rehearsed.

  “Lovely, now that this wonderful talent of yours has saved the day.”

  I cringed as she used the word talent, and all the more when I saw him flinch. Demetri had called me many things, but never that. Material girl, sure. Alterations expert, maybe. But . . . talent?

  Nicolette offered a broad smile and sashayed over to the dress form, all aflutter. “I’ll be the belle of the ball on my wedding day, and all because of Gabriella Delgado’s luscious design.” She used her hands to frame the words, as if seeing my name on a marquee or something.

  “Is zat so?” Demetri crossed his arms and looked at me, his expression none too friendly. Then he turned back to our giddy bride, speaking through clenched teeth. “Nicolette, dah-ling, come vith me to my office.”

  “No, let’s stay here,” she said, turning back to give me a little wink. “It makes sense to be in Gabi’s work space, anyway.” She glanced at my desk and then gave me a funny look. “I don’t see your sketchbook, though. Did you bring it? I’m dying to show Demetri that design.”

  “Design?” He looked back and forth between us, and I had another of those weird out-of-body experiences. Maybe I was still dreaming all of this. Sure. I would wake up and this would all be a silly nightmare.

  Or not.

  “Gabi, vhat is she referring to?” Demetri’s penetrating glare seared my conscience, and I shifted my gaze to the floor.

  I bent my head forward and studied my hands, which were, ironically, folded in prayer. “I, well . . .” I shook my head and looked back up, preparing myself for whatever came next.

  “I’m really sad that you don’t have the sketch with you.” Nicolette’s smile faded.

  Great. Now I had two people upset with me.

  “I guess we’ll just have to work around that. We have so much to discuss.” She clasped her hands together, pure delight on her face. Demetri, on the other hand, did not look so delighted. In fact, he looked as if he needed a blood pressure tablet, and the sooner the better.

  “Oh, but first let me tell you about my honeymoon plans!” Nicolette said. “Peter has booked the most marvelous little over-the-water hotel in Bora Bora!”

  Thank goodness her jovial mood kept Demetri from blowing his top. His “Yes, please tell us” was phony-baloney but shifted the conversation in a different direction, which gave me a moment’s reprieve. Nicolette seemed thrilled to ramble on about her upcoming trip to Bora Bora.

  Then again, what girl wouldn’t be thrilled to receive the news that she would be honeymooning in paradise? I could hardly imagine spending thousands of dollars a day on a honeymoon, but apparently she could. She chatted on and on about the luxury hotel she and her soon-to-be husband would be staying at. Turned out several Hollywood types had stayed there. Go figure.

  Only when she turned her conversation away from the honeymoon did she speak the words I’d bee
n dreading all along. Her impassioned “I’ve chosen Gabi’s design for my wedding dress!” caused Demetri to gasp and reach for his heart.

  And me? It caused me to feel like the room was spinning.

  As Nicolette carried on and on, filling Demetri in on every wonderful, terrible detail of the “perfect gown straight from heaven” that she’d chosen from my sketchbook, I knew my time at Haute Couture Bridal had drawn to a fateful end. From the mortified expression on my boss’s face, he was planning my demise as Nicolette spoke. No doubt I would get the boot the moment she left the store—if not before.

  When she paused for breath, he cleared his throat. “Nicolette, just to clarify, you vill not be wearing the gown I made for you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I simply can’t walk down the aisle in that dress, Demetri. I thought I made that clear before. It’s not a good fit for my big day. It’s really more of a party dress, I think. Not what I envisioned making my entrance in.”

  “I see.”

  Only, I could tell he did not. He listened, jaw clenched, lips tight, as she told him once again how talented I was, how I had designed a dress that suited her to a T.

  Demetri simply nodded. Oh boy. Was he gonna kill me or what?

  When she wrapped up her end of the conversation, he responded with one line: “You vill have the dress of your dreams,” and then told her that he had to cut the meeting short. No doubt he needed to run to the break room to stick his head in the oven.

  Not that we had an oven.

  Nicolette yammered on all the way to the front door, where she gave me a little wave, offered a joyous “Thank you so much! You’ve made this bride so happy!” and then sauntered out the door.

  As Demetri turned to face me, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Well, not my whole life, actually. Just tiny snippets of it. I didn’t really have time for the elongated version, because my boss came barreling my way. I darted to my right, thinking he might take me down. Instead, he stopped, put his hand on a mannequin’s arm to steady himself, and appeared to be counting. In Russian.