Every Bride Has Her Day

by Janice Thompson

  “Four, then?” My aunt paused as if questioning my decision. “Your heart is set on four, not more?”

  I suddenly got her meaning. “Aunt Alva, are you asking if you can be a bridesmaid in my wedding?”

  A nervous giggle sounded on her end. “I’m not asking, necessarily. It would be rude to come out and ask. But if you did ask, I wouldn’t say no.” She paused. “Not that I would match the other bridesmaids in figure or function, but I could do my best to fit in. I’ve been thinking about getting a gym membership. Maybe I could fit into a dress by then. I’d work double time trying, anyway.”

  I dabbed the blush on my right cheek, then gave it a scrutinizing look. Hmm. A little heavy-handed. With the back of my hand I swiped some of it off. “Auntie, there’s no need to change yourself on my account.”

  I’d no sooner spoken those words than she let out a squeal. “So I’m in? I’m one of the bridesmaids? Oh, thank you, honey! You realize I’ve never been one, right?”

  “Um, you were just in Queenie’s wedding a few months ago.”

  “Well, yes. I was the maid of honor. But I’ve never been part of a group of bridesmaids before. It seems like a lot of fun, being one of the girls.”

  One of the girls.

  I pondered her words. She was nearly four times older than most of the girls in my circle, but that didn’t matter. Aunt Alva had the youngest personality of anyone I knew.

  Before I could think another thing about it, my cell phone rang. I sighed when I saw my grandmother’s name on the screen. I said, “Can you hold, Aunt Alva? It’s Queenie calling,” then took the call. “Queenie?”

  “Just calling to make sure you remembered about this coming Saturday.”

  “This coming Saturday?” I shoved the makeup bag aside and took a seat on the edge of the bed, convinced I’d never make it to work on time.

  “You’re coming back to Fairfield, right? We’re putting together a final plan for Crystal and Jasper’s big day, remember? And I’m sure everyone in town’ll want to see that ring of yours. Have you and Brady set a date yet?”

  “Actually, we’re talking about—”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Methodist church is getting a plumbing overhaul in July, so if you’re planning to hold your reception there, you might want to rethink it.”

  “Oh, we’re not going to do the reception there. I’ve had a lot of different ideas, but I really don’t think—”

  “So you’re staying at the Baptist church for the whole thing, ceremony and reception? I applaud your decision to have the ceremony there, but if you’re wanting a dance floor at your reception, the Baptist church is out. They don’t allow dancing, remember?”

  “I never said—”

  “The charismatics might have you. I could ask. But I’m pretty sure they have some sort of rule that you have to be a church member to use the building. I never quite understood that one. I would think they’d be happy to have the rental fee, regardless of your membership.”

  “Actually, we have something altogether different in mind, Queenie.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re getting married in Dallas. I don’t think my heart could take it. Remember that episode I had last year? You guys had to call for the paramedics? I feel sure my poor heart couldn’t handle the news that you’re getting married anyplace but home.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Because Twiggy told Beau that you’re thinking about getting married at the Gaylord. And even though I did think the whole cowboy/horse theme was interesting, I must tell you it would drive a stake through my heart if you went that route. You know how strongly we all feel about you getting married here in Fairfield.”

  “Twiggy shouldn’t have said that, Queenie. I never agreed to getting married at the—”

  “I’m not saying the Gaylord isn’t nice, but it’s not home. And you know what they say: ‘There’s no place like home for a wedding.’”

  “I’m not sure that’s exactly how the saying goes, but I get your point. And I love the idea of getting married in Fairfield, as I’ve said.” A million times.

  “We have horses here too,” she said, “if you have your heart set on that cowboy theme. Though, frankly, that doesn’t sound much like you.”

  “It’s not.” I rose and paced the bedroom, ready to get on with my day. “Queenie, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Alva’s holding on the other line. Would it be okay if I called you back this evening after work?”

  “No need to call back. Just don’t forget to come on Saturday. I’m serving brunch at my place—10:30. Bring Alva. Unless Lori-Lou goes into labor between now and then. But please ask her not to, okay? We’ve got a wedding to plan. Two if we count yours.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell Lori-Lou to hold off on having the baby. No problem.” But if you don’t mind, I’ll plan my own wedding, thank you very much.

  “Good girl. Gotta run.”

  A click ended the call. I tried to go back to Alva, but she must’ve disconnected the call. No problem. I needed to get on the road to work, anyway.

  I thought about my wedding as I drove. Surely people understood that every bride had the right to plan her own special day. Right? Why, then, didn’t I have the courage to remind folks that I wanted to be in charge? I would start today. No longer would people boss me around.

  By the time I arrived at Cosmopolitan Bridal, the shop was opening for the day. I’d never been this late before. Hopefully my boss—and future mother-in-law—wouldn’t give me what for.

  My concerns melted away the minute I walked in the bridal shop and saw Nadia’s disarming smile. “Katie, such good news!” She clasped her hands together at her chest. “I called in a favor with a friend who works at the Gaylord. No promises—keep your fingers crossed—but I think the chances of getting the grand ballroom are pretty high, depending on the date. You and Brady need to decide quickly, okay?”

  “Actually, we need to talk, Nadia.” My purse strap slid off my shoulder and I caught it with my right hand. “The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that we should get married in—”

  “June? I know most brides opt for June, so the hotel is completely booked. I think they’ve got some openings in the fall, though.”

  “I really need to talk to you about something, Nadia. I—”

  “I have something to tell you too, but I was waiting till Brady got here so that you’d both be together.”

  “I’m here, Mom.” His voice sounded from behind the counter at the front of the store.

  She gestured for him to join us and reached out her hands to both of us. “The timing couldn’t be better. It simply couldn’t.”

  “Timing . . . for what?” Brady asked.

  “I’m home from Paris—for good!” Her voice resonated with glee. “The internship isn’t up yet, but I’ve made such good progress, my mentor opted to let me finish the last three months by Skype. Isn’t that the best news ever? I don’t have to go back!”

  “That’s awesome, Mom.” Brady glanced my way as if expecting me to chime in.

  “You know what this means, right?” Her eyes shimmered with tears as she squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here to help plan your big day. Oh, I’m so excited. Not every mother gets to help her only son plan for the day of his life.”

  She hadn’t mentioned the bride, had she? Hmm.

  I cleared my throat. “Glad you’ll be back, Nadia. It’ll be so much fun to have your help.” Once I tell you that I cannot possibly get married at the Gaylord.

  Of course, I still had to talk things through with Brady.

  She slipped her arm through mine. “I want to be a blessing, honey. I know everyone in the wedding biz. In Dallas, I mean. And I’d be willing to bet I can get you two a great rate on a tropical honeymoon. Where would you like to go?”

  “Haven’t really thought about it,” I said. “I just don’t want to go to Cozumel and end up with a sunburn like Mama came back with.”

  With a wave of
her hand, Nadia appeared to dismiss that idea. “Cozumel isn’t even close to what I had in mind. I was thinking Bali!”

  “Bali?” I swallowed hard. Where the heck was that, anyway?

  Brady shook his head, a look of concern in his eyes. “Mom, one of my teammates went to Bali for his honeymoon and dropped 10K a night on his room alone.”

  “Yes, but I’ll bet it was over the water, right?”

  “Well, yes . . .”

  “I have connections.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ll get you the trip of a lifetime. Promise you’ll let me help with this? I want to help with everything. Planning the wedding will make coming home even more special.”

  Wait. Did she say “planning the wedding” . . . as in, planning the whole wedding?

  Someone needed to stop this woman before she took over the whole show. Next thing you know, she’d be designing my wedding dress.

  Oh, wait. She already had.

  Hmm.

  I had a hard time focusing on my work as I headed to my office. Strangely, I found Twiggy seated at my desk, using my computer.

  “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to create a Pinterest account for you. You don’t already have one, do you?”

  “No, I don’t really have much time to spend on the internet. I’m too busy.”

  “A girl is never too busy to plan her wedding. Come and look at what I’ve done.” She gestured for me to join her at my computer and then pointed at the screen. “See this folder right here? It’s filled with pictures of cakes. Cakes, cakes, and more cakes.”

  “Ah.” I glanced at the clock, startled by the time. I needed to get a promotional piece to the local paper before noon. Ack. My gaze shifted back to the computer, where I stared at some of the oddest-looking cakes I’d ever seen. They looked very . . . Texan. Made me proud of my state, for sure, but they weren’t what I’d consider for my wedding.

  “And this folder right here . . .” She clicked a couple of buttons, then pointed at the screen again. “Décor. Centerpieces. Tablecloths. Since we’re going with a ‘riding off into the sunset’ theme, I thought you might like to see some samples.”

  “Wait . . . we? Riding off into the sunset?”

  “And what do you think of these bridesmaid dresses?” A few more clicks and she landed on a page filled with country-western–themed gowns. “I like the feel of these. I mean, I don’t want to tell you what to do—and I know you haven’t technically asked me to even be a bridesmaid yet—but I’m sure that’s just a technicality.” On and on she went, planning my wedding for me. I finally gave up and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk while she rambled on about my big day. Only when Madge popped her head in the door did she pause for breath.

  “Twiggy?” Madge’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget we have a shop to run? We’re swamped with customers, and I can’t wait on them all myself.”

  “Oops.” Twiggy’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m just so excited about the wedding.”

  “You’re getting married?” Madge let out a squeal. “Really? Beau proposed?”

  “No, no.” Twiggy rose and shook her head. “I’m helping Katie plan her wedding. Not mine.” The heightened color in her cheeks subsided.

  “Don’t you think Katie should do that herself?” Madge put her hands on her hips. “She’s a big girl. I’m pretty sure she told me once upon a time that she’s been planning for her big day since she was a kid.”

  “I was just helping, that’s all.” With a huff, Twiggy walked across the room and out the door.

  “Don’t let them do this to you, Katie.” Madge gave me a motherly look. “It’s your day, not theirs.”

  I agreed with her. Oh yes, I agreed. But voicing my ideas was getting harder every day. “I just don’t know how to say no to people. It’s a problem. I need a twelve-step program: Suckers Anonymous.”

  “I happen to have their phone number in my purse.” She winked. “Now, get busy on that ad for the Observer. They need it by noon.”

  “I know, I know.”

  She’d just turned to walk out of the room when I realized something. “Oh no!” I clamped my hand over my mouth. “I just thought of something.”

  “What is it?” Madge rushed my way, her eyes widening. “Something happen I need to know about?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just realized my wedding gown is in the cedar closet at Queenie’s house.”

  “Cedar closet?”

  “Yes. I need to get it out of there!” I paced the room, my anxieties growing. “Fast! It’s going to smell like cedar.”

  “Wait. Are you and Brady eloping or something?” Madge asked. “’Cause if you are, Nadia’s totally going to kill you, and I might just help her.”

  “No. It’s nothing like that. I just don’t want my dress to smell.”

  “You should’ve thought of that when you put it in the cedar closet, goofy.” Madge laughed. “But there’s no rush if you guys haven’t set a date. It’ll air out, and you can always take it to be dry-cleaned if you’re worried.”

  “I just didn’t think I’d be wearing it anytime soon. That’s why I took it to Queenie’s in the first place. Back then I totally thought I’d be single for, well, ages.”

  “Join the crowd. I certainly know what it means to think you won’t get married for a while.” Madge sighed. “Anyway, back to the dress. Just call your grandmother and ask her to hang it in a regular closet or something.”

  “She’s out of town. They’re visiting Paul’s great-grandchildren in San Antonio. They won’t be back for a few days.”

  “I’m sure it can wait till then. Don’t fret, Katie. All will end well, I’m sure. And I promise, I won’t let you walk down the aisle smelling like cedar chips.”

  “Thank you. That would be so embarrassing.”

  “Speaking of embarrassing . . .” She pointed to my face. “For some reason, you’ve only got blush on one cheek. Some kind of strange new fashion statement?”

  I sighed and reached for my purse. After touching up my blush, I spent the next hour and a half doing what I loved: writing. I put together a lovely, descriptive ad about our upcoming sale and then emailed it to the editor at the newspaper. I’d just pressed the send button when Brady tapped on my open door.

  “Busy?” He leaned against the doorjamb, his tall frame filling the space. I found myself captivated once again by his solid build—the strong shoulders, the muscular midsection. Then my gaze traveled to his legs and I was reminded of his recent knee surgery. No wonder he was leaning against the doorjamb. The poor guy’s knee was probably killing him again.

  Focus, Katie. Focus.

  “I was busy, but I’m done now.” I turned off the computer and leaned back in my chair.

  “Everything okay? You seem a little . . . down.” He shifted his weight, favoring his left leg.

  I tried to add a bit of cheer to my voice as I responded, “I’m great. Everything’s great.”

  “Faker.” He laughed. “So, what’s up . . . really?”

  If I released the sigh that threatened to escape, he would suspect I’d been struggling with the changes going on in my life. I did my best to sound upbeat. “Oh, just spent the morning sitting at Aunt Alva’s Formica table wondering what life will be like when I move to your place. And don’t even get me started on the people trying to run my life right now.”

  “Wait, slow down. You’re wishing I had a Formica table at my condo? What does that have to do with people bossing you around?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know. Nothing makes sense right now.”

  “What are you really saying?”

  “I don’t know, Brady. I’m just scared, I think. So much is happening so fast. And I feel like such a weakling. I can’t say no to people. That’s the main thing. I have ideas in my head for how I want the wedding to be. I’d love to talk those through with you. But everyone else is trying to confuse me. And I can’t say no. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” With a wave of his hand, he app
eared to dismiss any concerns.

  “No, I can’t. Try me.”

  He paused a moment and appeared to be thinking, then gave me a pointed look. “Would you like to go out to lunch?”

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  “How about Mexican food?”

  “Yum. Sounds great.” I sighed. “See what I mean?”

  “But you really do love Mexican food.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the problem. Every time I hear a great idea, it sounds, well, great. And when I’m the bride—which I am—not every great-sounding idea is really all that great. I mean, they all sound great, but they’re not really great for you and me. I think the problem is there are way too many great ideas out there . . . only, none of them leave me feeling . . . great.”

  “I’m biting my tongue to keep from using the word great.” Brady chuckled.

  “Um, you just used it.”

  “Couldn’t help myself.” He paused and appeared to be thinking. “Hey, you know what you need? One of those idea boxes.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know, a box. People can drop their ideas in completely anonymously. That way you can give each person opportunity to share but you won’t have the pressure of saying yes or no. I’m going to build one and put it on your door. People will have the satisfaction of knowing they gave you their input, but you can take the box out back and burn it when no one’s looking.”

  “What I need is a dose of courage. And some time to clear my head. Can we really go to lunch, Brady—just the two of us?”

  “For Mexican food?”

  “Sure. Whatever. But mostly to talk things through. We need to make a plan. Together. And then we have to stick with it. Otherwise we’re gonna be inundated and confused.”

  “I’m already confused. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have Chinese food.”

  “Fine.” I rose and grabbed my purse.

  Brady took several steps toward me and swept me into his arms. “I was just testing you, to see how you’d respond.”