Every Bride Needs a Groom (11 page)

“Glad you like the idea,” Nadia said. “I guess we'll dive right in. Let me tell you how I work. First, the bride chooses her inspiration—in this case, Loretta Lynn. Then I craft a look specifically for her, with all of her inspiration's elements. We're going for something that says Katie and Loretta, all at the same time. Make sense?”

“Well, sure, but . . .” Did I actually
say
I wanted a Loretta Lynn gown?

“A bride has to trust her designer.” On and on Nadia went, talking about her plan for my life. My soon-to-be-married life, anyway. Not that I was soon to be married. Should I mention that? Just about the time I'd worked up the courage, she slipped the measuring tape around my waist and pulled it snug.

“Oh, I'm sure anything you do will be brilliant,” I managed as I sucked in a breath to make myself as small as possible.

“Twenty-six-inch waist,” she said.

“I remember when I had a twenty-six-inch waist.” Lori-Lou sighed. “I think I was twelve at the time.”

That got a laugh out of Dahlia.

“We'll start with sketching some designs,” Nadia said as she slipped the measuring tape around my upper arm. “I hope you can come back Monday to look over the final sketches before I have to get on the plane to Paris. I'll leave Dahlia here to work on the sewing. That okay with you?”

“Oh, whatever you think,” I said. “I'm easy.”

“Come around eleven on Monday, if you can. At that time I'll give you my suggestions for fabrics, trims, and so on. The fabric, I always say, is as much the inspiration for the gown as anything else. People underestimate the role that a good satin or crepe plays.”

I was underestimating it even now. Then again, with a measuring tape looped around my arm, who had time to think of satin or crepe?

“We'll have to sign a contract for the gown at that point.”

“A contract?” I felt panic well up inside of me.

“Oh, no money will change hands, so don't fret over that. Just a standard contract to say that you'll give Cosmopolitan Bridal credit for the gown when you wear it.” The measuring tape slipped out of her hand. “When did you say your wedding was again, Katie? I can't remember the date.”

“Oh, I . . .”

Madge threw a warning look my way. “Katie hasn't settled on a date yet, Nadia, which gives us plenty of time. Isn't that wonderful?”

“It helps.” Nadia looked relieved at this news. She picked up the measuring tape from the floor. “But we do have the impending deadline of the photo shoot on July 15, so we'll have to move quickly. Just five weeks to design this dress and get it made. I don't usually work this fast, but I feel sure I can do it with Dahlia's help.” She gave her assistant an admiring smile.

“Happy to be of service. This one's going to be fun.” Dahlia's rich Swedish accent laced her words.

“Can we do it?” Nadia asked.

“Even if I have to stay and work nights.” Dahlia gave her a confident look. “You can count on me.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. I know I can. And I know this one means as much to you as it does to me.”

“Oh, it does.” Dahlia's eyes misted over. “I'm so excited I can barely think straight.”

Yippy skippy. One more person who would hate me if I backed out.

“The article is set to go live in
Texas Bride
the first week of October.” Nadia slipped the tape around my arm once more, then adjusted it. “I'll trust that the finished product will be exactly what you had in mind, Katie.” She turned to Madge and said, “Upper arm is nine and three-quarter inches.”

Lovely.

“I remember when my arm was nine and three-quarter inches.” Madge made a funny face as she wrote down the number. “I was in kindergarten.”

That got a laugh out of everyone in the room, especially Lori-Lou, who snorted.

“I think we're going to be good friends, you and me.” Madge nodded at my cousin.

The ladies carried on and on, talking about the idea of using Loretta Lynn as an inspiration for my so-called wedding gown. I could tell that Nadia was growing more excited by the moment. How could I possibly burst her bubble? Clearly my news would crush the woman. And Dahlia too.

No, I'd better keep my lips sealed for now and pray about how to open them later, at a more opportune time. Maybe I could send Nadia an email once she went to Paris. Perhaps that would be for the best. Until then, I'd sit here and listen to them ramble about fabrics, ruffles, and lace.

After wrapping up the measurements, Nadia took a seat and started making some initial sketches. “This is just for fun, you understand. The finished work will come later. Initially, we just consult, gab, dream dreams, come up with ideas.”

Only, I wasn't really coming up with any ideas. Not that she happened to notice. Nadia kept sketching and gabbing.

“It takes at least five or six fittings before we're done. While I'm in Paris, Dahlia will be your go-to girl. And you can always talk to Brady. He's . . .” The edges of Nadia's lips turned up in a smile. “He's been a great asset to the store.”

This time Madge snorted.

“Anyway, he'll be here to help you with . . .” Nadia's nose wrinkled. “Actually, he's not much help with the design part.”

“Or the sewing part,” Dahlia added.

“Or the management part,” Madge threw in.

“But he's great with public relations.” Nadia put her index finger up in the air. “And he'll be in charge of coordinating things with the people from
Texas Bride
, so he's your go-to guy, Katie.”

“Got it. Brady's my go-to guy.” I could almost picture the
tall basketball player as my go-to guy now. I'd go straight to him and share the news that my wedding was nothing but a farce. Then he could go to his mother and share the news with her. Perfect.

“At any point, we'll get this done.” Nadia continued to sketch out her ideas. The simplistic design drew me in at once. Apparently Lori-Lou loved it too. The two of us stood over Nadia's shoulder, watching the magic take place.

“Wow, that's great, Nadia,” I found myself saying. “I love the sweetheart neckline. And the ruffles are just right.”

“Very Loretta Lynn, but not over the top,” Lori-Lou chimed in.

“Thanks.” Nadia looked up from her sketchpad, her eyes brimming with tears. “Have I mentioned how excited I am about this one, Katie?” She reached out to grab my hand. “This is really a dream come true, for all of us. Your happily ever after is playing a role in
my
happily ever after. I'm going to have a dress on the cover of
Texas Bride
, and you're going to get the gown of your dreams. It's all so . . . perfect.” Her voice quivered.

Yes, indeed. It was all so perfect. Unless you counted the part where the whole thing was based on a half-truth.

“It's an answer to prayer,” Nadia whispered. “Truly.”

Lori-Lou nudged me with her elbow and I glared at her, then settled my gaze on the sketch once again. Wow, this woman really knew her stuff. Watching the design come together made me think, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, I would really get to wear this dress. Someday. Yes, perhaps after all I'd get to have my happily ever after. Until then, however, I'd have to wait for the perfect opportunity for my go-to guy to get to work fixing all of this for me.

A city is a state of mind, of taste, of opportunity. A city is a marketplace where ideas are traded, opinions clash, and eternal conflict may produce eternal truths.

Herb Caen

I
somehow managed to make it through the rest of the weekend. Sunday morning was spent at Lori-Lou and Josh's church, a place unlike any I'd ever visited. They called the large metal building with its massive parking lot and drum-infused music a megachurch. No doubt Mama would've called it a rock and roll concert and would've scheduled an appointment with the pastor forthwith to change the structure of the service to include more hymns and fewer flashing lights.

Still, I found myself clapping along and connecting with the lyrics of the songs, particularly the third one, which had a resounding faith theme. Even the sermon seemed to fit my situation. The pastor took his text from Proverbs, specifically focusing on lying. Ironic, since I'd agreed not to come clean with Brady or his mother about my wedding . . . or lack thereof.

I hardly slept on Sunday night, what with the baby fussing for hours due to teething issues. Monday morning came far too soon. Josh took off for work, and Lori-Lou spent the morning on the phone with several of her friends, trying to find a sitter, but to no avail. With no other choice but to take the kids with us, we headed back to Cosmopolitan to meet with Nadia one last time before she left for Paris. I still felt a little guilty about agreeing to Madge's plan. I'd rather just come clean before Nadia left the country, but what could I do? Madge intimidated me—perhaps as much as Queenie.

Queenie.

I sighed as I thought about my grandmother. I wondered if she was still mad at the Presbyterians. Boy howdy, she would've had a field day with the megachurch folks.

Lori-Lou didn't seem to notice my concerns as she drove us to the bridal shop. She gabbed on and on about a rental house Josh had found online while the kids hollered at each other in the backseat.

“It's going to be perfect for us, Katie,” she said above the noise from the children. “With an extra bedroom we can use as a playroom.” She pursed her lips. “I remember the days when we would've killed for an extra room to use as an office. Now every square inch of the house is covered in toys. Getting married and having kids changes everything.”

Gee, thanks. Another crushing reminder of my current state of
singleness.

As we pulled into the parking lot of Cosmopolitan Bridal, the most horrifying odor emanated from the backseat. Mariela let out several squeals in a row. “Ew, Mama! The baby's stinky!”

“Baby's stinky!” Gilly repeated.

“My nose isn't broken, thank you very much. I plan to change him in a minute, right after I call your daddy about the house.” Lori-Lou rolled her eyes.

Me? I rolled down the window.

My cousin shook her head as she glanced my way. “You have a lot to get used to, Katie.”

“Don't think I'll ever get used to that.”

The minute she put the car in park, I bolted. She hollered, “Chicken!” out of the open window. I didn't hear the rest of what she said, though, because I barreled through the front door of the bridal salon lickety-split.

Brady greeted me with a huge smile as I entered the store. In fact, I very nearly ran him down. Not that a five-foot-two girl could run down a six-foot-something basketball player, but I did manage to startle him a little. As I landed against him, I felt his muscles ripple underneath his white shirt. I did my best to still my quickening pulse but found it difficult.

“Well, hello there,” he said as I took a step backwards.

Hello there, Mr.
Go-To Guy.

“Mom said you were coming back today. Good to see you.” He reached to steady me as I lost my balance and nearly toppled into him again. From the twinkle in his eye, I got the feeling he really was happy to see me. But he wouldn't be if I told him my news, would he? He'd be booting me out the door.

“Hi. Good morning. Is your mom ready for me?”

“Almost. She told me to offer you a cup of coffee when you got here to stall a few minutes. I think she's made some progress on the design since Saturday, but probably won't have the
final details until she's had more time to pick your brain. She wants you to be happy.”

“Oh, I'm sure I will be.”
If I can just get past feeling so guilty.
“I'd love a cup of coffee.” I stifled a yawn. “Long night. The baby kept me up. Teething.”

“Baby?”

“Oh!” I clamped a hand over my mouth. “Not
my
baby. My cousin's.”

Brady nodded. “Ah. The gal with the cell phone?”

“That's the one.”

“She's not with you today?” He glanced toward the door as if expecting her to materialize.

“She is, actually.” I gestured to the parking lot. “She just needed to . . . well . . . get some last-minute work done while she was still in the car.”

“All work and no play, eh? Sounds a lot like my mom. And me too, for that matter.” As if to prove the point, he readjusted the mannequin with the $6,700 dress on it.

I stifled another yawn.

Brady laughed. “C'mon, sleepyhead. I'll lead you to the coffee machine. That way you'll be fully awake when you approve your wedding dress design. Otherwise you might okay something you don't really care for.”

As Brady took his first few steps, I couldn't help but notice that he still favored his left knee. I followed behind him as he led the way to the workroom at the back of the store. All the while I wrestled with guilt, the pastor's sermon on lying replaying in my head. A guy this sweet didn't need a fake bride stringing him along. Wouldn't it be better to go ahead and tell him now? Why oh why had I agreed to go along with Madge's plan?

After filling a cup for me, he offered me cream and sugar.
I took both. “That's what I like,” he said. “A girl who's not afraid to dump a few calories into her coffee.”

“Hey, what's coffee without the good stuff?” I gave it a good stir and took a little sip. “Ooh, hot.” I stirred it again. “I work long hours, so I need my caffeine.”

“I'm a workaholic myself, so I get it,” he said.

“Looks like we have a lot of things in common then.” I took another little sip of my coffee. Mmm. Sweet.

“Oh? We have a lot in common?” He quirked a brow as he reached for another cup to fill. “You play basketball too?”

“Ha. Very funny.” I looked up at him. Way up. Of course, I had to get past the strong athletic physique first. Not that I minded the side trip before settling my gaze on those gorgeous blue eyes. “I work for my parents too. We own a family-run business. So there's one thing we have in common. Besides liking sugar and cream in our coffee, I mean.”

“What kind of family business?” He filled his cup and then dumped in three packets of sugar and a ton of creamer.

“Hardware store.”

“Oh, that's right. I remember reading it in your essay. I feel like I learned a lot about you. Great writing, by the way. You should think about adding ‘professional writer' to your résumé.” He stirred his coffee and then tried to take a drink. He pulled the cup away from his lips at once. “Gets me every time.”

I laughed. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I've had worse injuries, trust me.” He glanced down at his left knee and winced.

Poor guy. I decided to change the subject. “Anyway, working for the family is . . . different. There's no way out, though. If I ever left the hardware store, I don't know how my dad would survive without me. He depends on me for so much.”

“Totally get that.” A wistful look came over Brady. Just as quickly, his sadness seemed to lift. “So, what does one do in a hardware store? Besides waiting on customers, I mean.”

I thought through my answer. How could I make the hardware store sound glamorous? “I, um . . . sometimes I do the window dressings. And I rearranged the lawn and garden section last week. I like putting things in order. Well, in the order that makes sense to my mind.”

“I like to put things in order too. I guess you could say I'm calculated in my approach. Did you happen to notice the shoe display at the front of the store?”

“Of course. I saw at least five or six pairs that I'd love to own.”

“You just proved my point. See, they weren't selling. It occurred to me that brides don't come into a bridal salon looking for shoes. They're an afterthought. Brides come in looking for a gown, but if we're savvy, we put the other things they'll need in strategic places so they'll have to trip over them on the way out. That's how I decided to put the shoes where you saw them.”

“Right.” I'd hardly given any thought to wedding shoes until seeing the display. Not that I needed wedding shoes. “Wise move on your part.”

He shrugged. “Just trying to think like a bride.” A grin followed. “Not that I'm good at that part, but you get the idea. I'm giving it the old college try.”

Madge walked into the workroom at that very moment. She grinned as she listened in. “Brady's going to make a lovely bride someday. And he'll know just where to find the perfect heels to make his ensemble complete.” She patted him on the back and then looked at me. “Good to see you again, Katie. Nadia will be with you shortly.”

“Oh, I know. Brady told me.”

“Brady. Right. Keep forgetting he's the manager now.” Madge elbowed him and smirked. “He'll always be Nadia's little boy to me. All six feet four of him.”

Well, that answered the question about his height, anyway.

Madge took a couple of swigs from a cup of coffee, then tossed the rest in the trash and left the room.

“Working for family is a dream come true.” Brady rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that's my take on it. What about you? What do you love about the hardware store?”

“I love the customers. Love 'em.”

“What else?” He took another sip of his coffee.

I thought about it for a moment before answering. “Honestly? I love the designing aspects. Laying out the specials. Decorating for holidays. Making sure people are . . . I don't know . . . entertained?”

“Entertained by a store?”

“Well, I like to make sure the window displays are entertaining. Eye-catching. And I guess you're right about the writing. I write most of the copy for the store. Put together ads for the local paper. That sort of thing.” I glanced down at my watch.

“Getting anxious?” Brady asked. “I could see if Mom is ready for you now.”

“No, I'm actually just wondering about Lori-Lou. She's been in the car a long time.”

“On the phone.” We spoke in unison and then laughed.

“It's part of her anatomy,” I added.

“Let's go back to the front of the store then,” Brady said. “Maybe she's already come inside and is looking for us. But we'll have to finish the coffee first. No food or drinks in the store. Too dangerous.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” I did my best to take a few more sips of the
coffee, but it was still too hot for comfort. I ended up tossing what was left in the trash can by the door. Brady did the same. What a waste of good cups of coffee. Still, I understood his point about not having food or drinks around the dresses. I could only imagine the possibilities for disaster.

He led the way out of the workroom, glancing back at me as we made our way into the shop. “Hey, speaking of phone calls, I had one this morning from the
Texas Bride
reporter, Jordan Singer. He was just double-checking the date for the interview.”

“July 15, right?”

Brady looked concerned. “Well, that's the photo shoot part. We need five weeks to pull the gown together. But the interview will come first. Didn't Mom mention that he's going to be here next Monday—June 15—to interview you?”

“Next Monday?”
Oy vey.
“No. Pretty sure I would've remembered that. I thought he would interview me at the photo shoot. And that brings up something very important I need to talk to you about. Do you mind if we speak privately, Brady?”

To my left, Madge cleared her throat. We looked at her, and she put her hand on her neck and mumbled something about having a cold. Then she flashed me a “don't you dare” look.

At that very moment, the front door of the shop flew open and Lori-Lou stumbled inside, baby in her arms and two squabbling kids at her side. The wind must've done a number on her hair. She looked a fright. Not that anyone could make out her face underneath the mass of windblown locks, in any case.

As soon as Crystal, Twiggy, and Dahlia saw her enter, they all gasped.

“Oh no!” Crystal put her hands over her eyes. “Anything but that!”

“What?” I asked.

“Incoming Mama Mia!” Twiggy whispered.

“Cleanup on aisle four!” Madge threw in. She reached into her pocket and came out with a walkie-talkie, which she raised to her lips.

“Mama Mia? What's that?” I tried to follow her gaze but only saw my cousin and the kids. “Code word for the mother of the bride?”

“No.” Dahlia shook her head. “A testy mother of the bride is called a Mama Bear. Sometimes known as a Drama Mama if she's making the bride overemotional during the fitting.”

“But . . . Mama Mia?” I asked.

“A bride with small children. In this case, three. And she's bringing them with her.”

“Oh, that's no bride-to-be.” I laughed. “That's my cousin Lori-Lou. You met her on Saturday, remember? She tried all morning to get a sitter but couldn't.”

“That's Lori-Lou?” Dahlia seemed stumped by this. Well, until my cousin brushed the unruly hair out of her face and stopped hollering at Mariela.

“She might not be an incoming bride, but she's still a Mama Mia,” Twiggy whispered. “You can't deny that she's a mama.”