by Nancy Warren
Book 1
THE ALMOST WIVES CLUB
Kate
Nancy Warren
Ambleside Publishing
Copyright
The Almost Wives Club: Kate
Copyright © 2015Nancy Weatherley Warren
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written consent of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Introduction
Five Brides – One Fabulous Wedding Gown. Who will wear it?
Evangeline is the celebrity wedding gown designer to the stars and the elite who can afford her perfect creations. Kate Winton-Jones is set to marry one of California’s most eligible bachelors and is one of the lucky brides Evangeline has agreed to clothe for her special day. But, when the demanding designer fires one of her seamstresses during the final fitting of Kate’s dress, the seamstress curses Evangeline and the dress. And that’s when things start to get interesting. Kate’s perfect life begins to unravel. Is the dress really cursed? Or is Kate getting a lucky escape from marrying the wrong man? And is fate throwing the right man in her path?
Join five women as the dress passes through their hands and they end up joining The Almost Wives Club.
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Chapter One
Kate Winton-Jones was trying not to breathe. If she sucked too much air into her lungs, dress pins attacked her torso like battalions of tiny bayonets. Two seamstresses were currently at work on the final fitting of her wedding dress, and the yards and yards of silk and tulle and the hundreds of tiny seed pearls had to be perfect. As perfect as the wedding of the year between Katherine Winton-Jones and Edward Carnarvon III was destined to be.
There was absolute hush in the fitting room of Evangeline’s signature store on Rodeo Drive as the two women knelt on either side of her and took in the seams at her waist.
“I don’t know how you came to lose so much weight right before your wedding. The dress was already fitted,” her mother complained. “It was very thoughtless of you, Kate. This is no time to diet.”
“Not a diet,” she whispered, trying to talk without inhaling. “Stress.”
Her mother wore one of her many Chanel suits, this one a pale green. A fat string of pearls encircled her neck and her hair was salon fresh. “Nonsense. What kind of stress could you possibly have?”
Kate could have explained about the constant pressure of trying to come up with funding to continue the after school program for at-risk girls that employed her, but her mother hated hearing about her work. Her job might not be glamorous or high paying, but what she was doing was important.
She put a hand to her waist, surreptitiously shifting a pin that felt as though it were trying to remove her appendix. The flash of her three-carat diamond ring caught the light and sparkled in the triple mirror like a tiny lightning storm.
The doors opened behind them and in strode Evangeline, the gown’s celebrity designer. Kate could have sworn the temperature in the room dipped a couple of degrees.
“And aren’t you the most beautiful bride?” Evangeline announced in her clear British accent.
The seamstresses both flinched as the designer studied their work. Kate had the stab wounds to prove it. “And that dress is gorgeous on you. Ab-so-lutely gorgeous. You look like Grace Kelly with that exquisite fair coloring and the hair.” Kate had worn her blond hair long ever since she could remember. “You’re wearing it up? As we agreed?”
“Yes.” Evangeline had sent them to a special salon for a consultation.
“Good. You’ve got that lovely, long neck. My inspiration for the dress was a lily. Gorgeous,” she repeated.
“Oh, Evangeline, you’re the gorgeous one,” Kate’s mother gushed. Evangeline had been a London model and actress who became more famous for the men she dated than the products she helped sell. She’d been involved with minor royalty, lived with a movie star, and married and divorced a couple of business tycoons. Nearing forty she’d left the modeling and acting to pursue fashion design. Evangeline specialized in wedding gowns and lingerie so exquisite and so expensive that Kate would be tempted to hang it on the wall like a piece of art if she actually owned any. The designer turned down more bridal commissions than she accepted and it was an open secret that she’d only design her fabulous gowns for attractive women. There had been a nerve-racking meeting where Kate had been required to appear before Evangeline, with photographs, and walk up and down in front of the designer. At the end of the session, the woman had smiled coolly and said, “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”
Instead of losing her commissions, her rudeness and critical standards as well as the outrageous prices made her gowns more desirable. Evangeline’s signature creations had clothed royalty, daughters of prominent politicians, and movie stars as they walked down the aisle. One star had reportedly eloped after Evangeline refused to design her a gown. Subsequently the TV show she’d starred in for three years had her character killed off.
Evangeline’s perfect complexion creased for a moment. “Oh, dear,” she said, drawing closer. “What happened to your breasts?”
All eyes went to Kate’s unimpressive cleavage.
“She’s dieting,” her mother said, sounding desperate. As though Evangeline might snatch back the dress if her daughter couldn’t even fill the bra cup.
“Well, don’t lose any more weight.” She put her hands under Kate’s cleavage and, while all eyes stared at her chest in the mirror, Evangeline pushed her small breasts up until they filled the vacuum. It seemed they all held their breath as the designer studied the result. She nodded briskly. “I’ve got some nice little gel falsies. We’ll pop them in and plump you right up.” Then she removed her hands and the breasts were allowed to fall back into insignificance. The designer snapped her fingers to one of the kneeling underlings. “You. Go fetch the gel pads.” The woman scrambled up and out of the room.
Her mother put her finger up and scolded. “Make sure you eat something when you go out for dinner with Ted tonight.”
To the designer she said, “Do you think you’ll be able to come to the wedding? It would mean so much to us.”
“I’ll try,” the breezy voice said. “I always like to see the girls in my gowns.”
Naturally it would add glamour to the event if Evangeline turned up, especially if she came on the arm of her current suitor—a gorgeous young movie star from Barcelona.
She turned back once more to Kate, her dark hair swishing over her shoulder like a shampoo commercial. As many times as Kate had seen her on TV and in magazines, she was still taken back by the sheer beauty of the woman. Perfect almond-shaped eyes in a dazzling purple blue that looked as though a sapphire had mated with an amethyst, flawless skin, lustrous hair, white, even teeth and a body that made Kate feel completely inadequate.
Her perfect lips thinned slightly as she ran a critical eye up and down Kate’s form.
“No more dieting,” she instructed. Then, to the assistant still kneeling, she snapped, “you’ve spoiled the line. Pin it again.”
Kate felt the woman’s fingers tremble as she removed half a dozen pins and re-pinned the seam that traveled from Kate’s ribcage to her hip.
“Quickly. I haven’t got all day.”
Kate sucked in a quick breath as a pin pierced a vulnerable spot. Possibly her liver.
To her horror, she saw a spot of blood form, a bright ruby dot marring the perfect expanse of white satin. The seamstress tried to cover the spot with her hand but Evangeline yanked her hand away. “You stupid cow,” she screamed, her normally upper class accent slipping. “You’ve ruined it. Get out! You’re fired.”
Kate’s mother fluttered like a frightened hen. “Cold water, no soda water, no, wait—salt?” she muttered.
“It was an accident,” Kate said, jumping to the defense of the poor woman who probably needed the horrible job.
But no one was listening to her.
The seamstress rose, her face dull red with anger, her dark brown eyes burning. She held a pin as though it were a weapon and pointed the sharp end at Evangeline. She screamed something in a language that might have been Russian, and then, in English, shouted, “You are evil woman and I curse you. And I curse this dress!” Then, she threw the pin, red tipped with Kate’s blood, to the floor, spat on it and ground the pin into the royal blue carpet with her heavy black shoe.
There was stunned silence as she stomped out of the fitting room just as the second assistant rushed in with the gel pads, holding them out like an offering. Evangeline took them. “Thank you,” she said, there was a pause as though she were trying to think of the girl’s name and then she gave up and took the pads. “Don’t worry,” she assured Kate. “We’ll fix the seam so that unfortunate spot is invisible.”
Then she pushed her hands down the bodice, slipped a clammy pad under each meager breast and rearranged Kate’s cleavage.
When she stepped back, she nodded.
“Lovely,” she announced. And then, as though the unfortunate incident of the cursing had never taken place, she was gone.
The remaining assistant reached for the row of tiny buttons that would release Kate from the dress. She looked for a second as though she might cry, then, before she touched the dress, she muttered something under her breath and made the sign of the cross.
