Fanny Lou finished off her coffee and carried the cup to the sink. “See y’all later.”
They all three waved as she breezed back out the door. Jody picked up another doughnut and pushed through the swinging doors into the sewing room with Mitzi right behind her. Beyond the kitchen was a huge dining room that now had three sewing machines and a long cutting table taking up the space. The foyer was a sitting room with two plush, pink sofas and lots of pattern and wedding books on the coffee table between them. To the left was the curved staircase. A plus-size mannequin wearing a wedding dress, with the train stretched out to the top step, showed off the partners’ first attempt at designing and making a wedding dress for Paula’s sister, Selena, a couple of years earlier. Before it was over, they’d also made a bridesmaid dress for Paula and an outfit for their mother, Gladys, to wear for the wedding.
What used to be the living room was now lined with shelves holding bolts of lace, satin, silks, and even cotton eyelet. That’s where Mitzi took clients after they’d given her an idea of what kind of dress they wanted for their special day, to do measurements and put together a schedule of fittings. The master bedroom served as their fitting room, with extra air-conditioning power added. Jody and Paula had agreed with Mitzi when she suggested that the dressing room was a top priority. There was nothing worse than a tiny room with no air-conditioning vents for a curvy woman trying to get into and out of clothing.
Mitzi unlocked the front door, straightened the bridal books on the coffee table, and opened a pattern book to the first page of the wedding dresses. At nine fifteen the door swung open, and Ellie Mae Weston hurried inside. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My mother insisted on coming with me, and I had to talk her out of it. I can’t even imagine what kind of dress she’d try to get me into.”
“Have a seat and let’s talk about what you want.” Mitzi pointed to the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. “You said you’d bring pictures.”
Ellie Mae pulled out a folder and laid it on her lap. “I’ve narrowed it down to ten, but I’m tellin’ you up front, I do not want a white dress. I’m a size twenty-two, and I don’t want to look like one of those oversized marshmallows.”
“It’s your day,” Mitzi said in agreement.
“That’s what I told Mama, but she’s afraid of the gossip,” Ellie Mae laughed. “She thinks I’m still a virgin at twenty-five and should wear white and a veil over my face. Good Lord! It’s going to be hot in July. What if a mosquito flew up under there? I’d be battin’ at it instead of sayin’ my vows.”
“How big is the wedding list?” Mitzi asked.
“We invited everyone in church and all the relatives. We’re having the whole thing out at Darrin’s folks’ place in their big barn. Mama’s not happy about that, either, but good Lord, there’s a thousand people in Celeste. If even a third of them came, the church wouldn’t work.” Ellie Mae opened her folder and started going through the pages.
Mitzi’s mind wandered as she waited. Ellie Mae was right about the population of Celeste, Texas, but Fanny Lou had said that to get that many folks, the census takers counted the dogs and cats. Folks had thought Mitzi and her friends were crazy to put a specialized bridal shop in a town that small, but it wasn’t far from the bigger town of Greenville, Texas.
Besides, there wasn’t another shop like it for miles and miles around. So from the time they’d opened the shop a year ago, they’d been swamped with business. And maybe next year they’d even get invited to attend the Dallas Bridal Fair. They hadn’t opened the shop in time to nab a place this year, but they were on the waiting list.
Mitzi had thought about renting one of the empty downtown places in those two small city blocks when she first got the idea of a custom specialty shop, but none of them had the ambience that the old house did. It seemed like one of Paula’s omens that it occupied the corner of the last block zoned for commercial business.
After a couple of minutes, Ellie Mae laid a picture out on the table. “I like the neckline and sleeves on this one, but I don’t want that empire waistline. Everyone would think I was pregnant for sure.”
Like all small Texas towns, Celeste was a place where everyone knew everyone else, and usually what they were doing. All it would take was a few phone calls for a pregnancy rumor to float around.
Then Ellie Mae pulled out a second picture of a formfitting dress. “This is the style I like, but I want it fuller in the back so I can dance at the reception without feeling all cramped up.” She laid another picture on the top of those. “I want a train like this with our initials done up in beaded, interlocking hearts on it. I’ve been looking at wedding dresses for ideas for a year.”
“Sounds like you’ve done my work for me.” Mitzi gathered the pictures back into the folder. “Let’s go into the fabric room. What color do you have in mind?”
“Black lace over pale-pink satin.”
Mitzi thought she should really warn the cell phone company. Those towers between Celeste and Greenville were going to sizzle when folks learned that Ellie Mae was wearing black to her wedding. Her father, Frank, was the preacher in the biggest church in town, and her mother, Nancy, played the piano on Sunday morning. If Mitzi had been an author instead of a seamstress, she could fill a whole book with nothing but the gossip over a black wedding dress.
“That right there.” Ellie Mae reached for a bolt of black Chantilly lace as they walked into the room, but she was too short to get a hold on it.
Mitzi pulled it down and then removed a bolt of white bridal satin and one of pale pink. She rolled out several yards on a long table and overlaid the black lace on both.
“Not the pink,” Ellie Mae said. “Mama’s going to flip out over the black anyway, but over the pink it looks like I’m naked under the lace. That white does look pretty. What would it look like with white beading?”
Mitzi took out a drawer full of medium-size beads and laid some out in a double heart. “What do you think?”
“I love it.” Ellie Mae’s blue eyes glittered. “I’ll use a circlet of white roses in my hair with just a touch of black lace.”
“Maybe since your mama wants a veil, we could do something like this.” Mitzi picked up a beautiful black-lace hat with a wide brim and set it on Ellie Mae’s head. “This might be an option instead, and it looks lovely with your blonde hair.”
Ellie Mae turned toward a mirror and gasped. “Look at me! It’s so different, and I can wear my hair down in big waves. How about a pouf of black illusion at the back with a little bit trailing down my back?”
Mitzi took a roll of illusion from the shelf, cut off two yards, and using straight pins, fixed it to the back of the hat.
“Yes! That’s it. I love it. When can you get started?” Ellie Mae asked. “And can we keep it all under wraps? I’m not even sure I want Mama to see it before the wedding day.”
“The Perfect Dress has the same confidentiality laws as a therapist,” Mitzi told her. “I’ll get the dress drawn up, and you can come in on Friday to approve it.”
“Fantastic. Darrin will be wearing a white tux with a black-and-red paisley cummerbund, and I’m carrying red roses,” Ellie Mae said. “It’s all going to be beautiful.”
“Yes, it is, and very unusual. I may have to stock up on black lace after this. You could start a brand-new trend.” Mitzi had trouble keeping her mind off what Fanny Lou had said about Ellie Mae being an angel.
“That would be something, wouldn’t it? What time do I come by on Friday?”
Mitzi opened her appointment book. “How does eleven thirty work for you? You’ll approve the dress. I’ll take some measurements. We’ll be done in less than half an hour unless you want some adjustments. We’ll make your appointments for several fittings and get started on Monday morning.”
“Great. I’ll take an early lunch from my job. Thank you for everything.” Ellie Mae hugged her.
After sending Ellie Mae on her way, Mitzi carried her notes to the sewing room and slump
ed down in a wingback chair. “You’re never going to believe this. Ellie Mae Weston is getting married in black lace.”
“Does her mama know?” Jody asked.
“No, and we are sworn to secrecy,” Mitzi answered.
Paula pulled a silver angel charm from her pocket and kissed it. Neither Jody nor Mitzi had to ask what she was doing. They knew she was putting a protection aura around Ellie Mae’s mama so she wouldn’t have a heart attack.
After a week, Graham Harrison still hadn’t gotten everything unpacked in the new house in Celeste. He didn’t regret moving there, not after that last bout of bullying his girls had experienced at their bigger school. From what Alice, his sister, said about the smaller Celeste schools, they didn’t tolerate such things, and as the high school English teacher, she’d be on the watch. He poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the kitchen table. The girls were up that morning and rattling around in their bedrooms, so he only had a few more minutes of peace.
Dixie breezed into the kitchen, poured a glass of orange juice, and grabbed a box of cereal. “Mornin’, Dad.”
“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Graham wondered what kind of life his girls would have if their mother had stuck around. But that was water under the bridge, and even though she was living in Dallas now and had said she wanted to be a part of their lives, it was about fourteen years too late.
Tabby stopped long enough to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Did you talk to that place about our dresses for Mother’s friend’s wedding yet?”
“It’s on my to-do list today. Did y’all decide what color or style?”
“Lizzy said bubblegum pink and whatever style we like. I hate that color,” Dixie said with a groan. “I’m going to look like a big mound of cotton candy.”
“The senior bridesmaids are wearing burgundy, so Lizzy thought we’d be cute in pink. She hasn’t seen us since we were babies and only asked us because Mama put a guilt trip on her,” Tabby said. “I still don’t want to go.”
“Well, Lizzy better get ready for a big surprise when we show up as junior bridesmaids in our bubblegum-pink dresses.” Dixie poured a bowl of cereal and added milk. “We’re not little girls anymore.”
Tabby giggled. “You got that right about us not bein’ little girls anymore.”
Graham could put his amen on that, but he kept his mouth shut. He was six foot five, and his twin daughters had taken after him instead of their petite blonde mother. Last time he’d measured the girls, they were both five feet, ten inches, and like him, they certainly weren’t beanpoles.
He’d taken them to every dress shop in Greenville, Dallas, and even Austin trying to find a dress for their mother’s best friend’s wedding in July, but they’d found nothing suitable in their size. Then they’d moved to Celeste, and Dixie had seen the sign for The Perfect Dress just down the street from the house Graham had bought. When she looked it up on the internet, they’d found the place made customized wedding, bridesmaid, and prom dresses—but only for plus-size women.
“Daddy, will you run by there on your way to work? It might be too late for us to get anything special made, so get ready to beg or bribe,” Dixie said.
He’d gotten used to doing all things a mother should do from the time the girls were born. His ex-wife, Rita, just flat out didn’t have a drop of mothering instinct, and once she’d found out that his folks controlled the family money and weren’t happy with his eloping right out of high school, she wasn’t interested in being married. She’d left him when the girls were barely two years old.
Yet last winter she’d called and wanted to see the twins. He’d let them make the choice. They agreed to meet her for ice cream but only for an hour. From what little they’d said about it, it had been like meeting a stranger. He could tell they were relieved when she didn’t call again for two months. That time it was to ask if they would be in her best friend’s wedding as junior bridesmaids. They agreed to spend the day with Rita, but they wouldn’t say yes to staying overnight. That meant Graham would drive them to Dallas early that morning and pick them up after the wedding reception.
“We should have big ball gowns so we really would look like cotton candy,” Tabby said. “With one of them big southern flounce collars and a wide satin sash. That’ll teach Mother to just tell us a color and to pick out our own style. I still think she was ashamed of us. She’s so short and tiny, and she wanted daughters that looked like her. She said that she recognized us that day because we reminded her of Aunt Alice.”
Little bits of their opinions on that day kept filtering down with time. Graham glanced up at both of them and realized that they did look a little like his sister. Maybe not in the face as much as their build—tall, big-boned girls. But their eyes came from Rita—clear light blue, a striking combination with all that thick black hair.
“Now that sounds like a great idea. We could have the lady at the dress shop make us look like Scarlett O’Hara,” Dixie said.
“Girls, this might not be the time for revenge.” Graham wouldn’t blame them, but he couldn’t let them go through with that kind of thing.
“I think we should wear a big old southern hat, too,” Tabby said.
“No, Mother says Lizzy is having fresh rosebud circlets made for our hair, with burgundy ribbons down the back,” Dixie reminded her. “Maybe we should go barefoot, paint our toenails black, and wear toe rings. Daddy, can we get henna tattoos on our shoulders that say wild girls?”
“You cannot,” Graham said, raising his voice a notch.
“Well, rats,” Dixie said. “Then how about we get two-piece dresses and pierce our belly buttons? We could get one of those . . .”
“No!” Graham’s voice went up another octave.
“Then let’s do formfitting pink-satin dresses with a side slit up to our . . .”
Graham’s palms went up in a flash. “That’s enough, ladies. I don’t want to hear about slits up to wherever. I’m going to work, and your job today is to finish unpacking, get your bedrooms organized, and do your laundry. I’ll call as soon as I talk to the lady at the dress shop, but it might be this afternoon. I don’t know what time she opens, and I’d like to talk to her in person. I can’t imagine why she’d put a place like that in Celeste.”
“Me, either, but I’m sure glad she did,” Dixie said.
“Especially if she says yes.” Tabby nodded. “Text us when you know something? That way if they can see us anytime today, we can walk down there.”
“Will do.” Graham picked up his briefcase and headed out the back door.
He drove down Main Street to the dress shop, saw that it wouldn’t be open for another thirty minutes, and called his secretary, Vivien, who told him that he had meetings starting at nine that morning with each of the departments of his family’s Cadillac dealership. That meant he’d have to take care of the dress business during his lunchtime. Maybe if the shop owners could set up an appointment, he’d have time to run by his new house and tell the girls.
He made it to work with five minutes to spare before his first meeting and greeted Vivien with a wave as he walked inside the dealership.
“The Service Department is in the conference room.” She handed him a folder. “I’ll buzz in with a reminder in forty-five minutes. That way you can wrap this one up and have a short break before the Finance Department arrives.”
“Couldn’t run this place without you.” Graham meant what he said. His dad had died last year and left him the dealership, lock, stock, and barrel. Vivien—a forty-year company veteran—helped make a smooth transition.
“Your daddy used to say the same crazy thing. Everyone is replaceable.” When Vivien grinned, her wrinkles deepened and her brown eyes became slits. Graham remembered a time when her hair had been black, but now it was streaked with gray. She hadn’t talked about retiring, but she was pushing seventy.
He patted her on the shoulder. “You aren’t everyone, darlin’.”
Without even a reminder from Vivien, the last m
eeting finished fifteen minutes early. She’d already gone to lunch when he headed out the door to make the drive from Greenville to Celeste. Not knowing if the dress shop closed for an hour at noon, he drove faster than the speed limit and arrived with fifteen minutes to spare.
Since the business was in a house, he wasn’t sure whether to ring the doorbell, knock, or just walk in. He chose the latter and found no one sitting behind a desk. Instead, a tall red-haired woman with the most piercing blue eyes he’d ever seen poked her head out around a doorjamb.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I hope so,” he said. “I just moved here, and my twin daughters need bridesmaid dresses in July. Would you have time to make something for them by then?”
Those eyes looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember having ever met her. Maybe they just reminded him of Rita’s, since they’d been talking about her that morning.
She came out into the room and motioned for him to have a seat. The plush, pink sofa enveloped him—fairly comfortable for a man his size, but he was sure glad his girls weren’t there with their cameras.
“I’m Graham Harrison.” He focused on a place over her left shoulder to keep from looking right at her eyes. “My daughters aren’t petite little things. The bride said anything would work as long as the dresses matched and they were cotton candy . . . no, that’s not right.” He stumbled over the words. “Bubblegum pink.”
The lady sat down across from him. “I’m Mitzi Taylor, and yes, we make bridesmaids dresses in sizes fourteen and up. How old are these girls?”
“Fifteen—size sixteen in jeans. Like I said, they’re not little girls. They’re almost six feet tall and what folks call ‘big girls.’” He almost blushed. A dad shouldn’t have to know those things or their shoe size or their favorite deodorant, but when he’d had to be both mother and father, there was no choice.
“And I can see why.” Mitzi’s blue eyes seemed to size him up for height.
“So can we make an appointment with you? And will you have time to do that kind of thing before July?” he asked.
The Perfect Dress Page 2
