Every Bride Needs a Groom (8 page)

Suddenly something Madge had said made perfect sense. “Oh, wait. I get it now.”

“Get what?” Lori-Lou asked.

“Madge told me that Nadia's son was taking over the shop when she left for Paris.”

“Seems a little weird that a pro basketball player is in the wedding biz, though. He's definitely not the type. I once knew a guy who liked taffeta but always suspected there was more to that story.”

I gave Brady James a second look and tried to analyze him through that filter. Nope. No way. This guy was all guy, all six feet five of him. Or six six. He seemed to be growing taller the more I stared at him. Or maybe I just felt small in his presence. He certainly commanded the room.

Stop staring
, Katie. It's not polite.

But how could a girl help herself? A specimen like this didn't come along every day, especially not in a bridal salon. Staring up into that handsome face, I almost forgot why I'd come to Cosmopolitan Bridal in the first place.

Almost, but not quite.

When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.

Georgia O'Keeffe

B
rady James looked at us again, and a welcoming smile lit his face. I felt my cheeks grow hot. Had he noticed me staring? He headed right for us, but I wanted to run for the door.

“Oh. No. You. Don't.” Lori-Lou spoke through clenched teeth. “Don't take a step. You're going to face this like a man.”

“Face this like a man?” Brady asked as he drew near. “Well,
if I must.” When he chuckled, his eyes sparkled with merriment, which only made him more handsome and forced me to stare even more. “What am I facing?”

“Oh, I was talking to Katie Sue here.” Lori-Lou nudged me with her arm, then looked at him with a smile too broad for comfort. “This is Katie. She needs to face life's situations like a man.”

Brady gave me an inquisitive look. “Not exactly your usual opening line, but I'm thinking this has something to do with a wedding? Or a wedding dress?”

“Yes. A wedding dress. I've come to talk to you about a dress,” I managed.

A boyish smile turned up the edges of his lips. “Well then, you've come to the right place. I'm Brady. What can I help you with?”

Get it together, Katie. You look like
a goober standing here.

“I, um, spoke to a woman named Madge. On the phone, I mean. Yesterday. No, maybe the day before. I can't remember.”
I've
been busy getting my heart crushed, so the days are
getting mixed up.
“Anyway, she doesn't know I'm coming today. She's expecting me on Monday. Maybe it would be better if I talked to her alone? Would that be okay?” My sentences came out sounding rushed. Staccato. Breathy.

“Of course. I'll get Madge for you. If anyone knows how to take things like a man, she does.” He leaned so close I could smell his yummy cologne. “Brace yourselves, ladies.”

Oh, I needed to brace myself, all right. My heart felt more vulnerable than ever as his arm brushed against mine. When he pointed at the middle-aged woman with dark red hair, I drew in a deep breath and willed my erratic heartbeat to slow down. I had to jump this hurdle so I could get back to the business of recovering from my heartbreak.

Just. Get. This. Over. With.

“Madge is one tough cookie.” Brady waggled his brows.

“Ooh, cookies.” Lori-Lou licked her lips. “When we're done with all this, let's go grab some lunch, Katie. I never get to have lunch without my kids.”

“How did we transition from wedding dresses to cookies to lunch?” I asked.

Brady shrugged. “Not sure, but cookies do sound good. I'm pretty sure one of the girls brought in some homemade chocolate chip cookies just this morning. They're in the workroom out back.” He grinned and then walked across the room toward Madge. I couldn't help but notice that he favored his left knee. Poor guy.

I gave the older woman another look to see if she really looked as tough as he'd described her. Broad shoulders. Button-up blouse over black slacks. Sturdy. Plain. Completely different attire from the glitzy blonde chick. Yes, Madge looked somewhat out of place in this swanky joint, but she barked out orders from behind the cash register like she owned the place. Well, until Brady approached her, then she appeared to melt like butter. A smile lit her face, replacing the stern expression.

“There's a little song I sing with the kids,” Lori-Lou whispered as she gestured to the woman. “‘One of these things is not like the other.'” My cousin shook her head. “That's what comes to mind when I see that Madge lady working here. She just doesn't seem to fit the place. Looks like she'd be more at home working at Fanny's Fine Fashions in Fairfield.”

“Oh, I don't know. I think there's room for every kind of person in the wedding biz,” I said.

Madge walked our way and my heart rate picked up.

Here goes nothing.

“Can I help you ladies?” she asked.

I offered a slight smile. “Yes. You're Madge?”

“Last time I checked.” She put her hands on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I'm Katie Fisher. You called me the other day, remember? I'm the one who—”

“You won the contest!” The woman let out a squeal and grabbed my arm. “Well, why in the world didn't you just say so? You're early, kid! Didn't expect to see you until Monday. What brings you here today?”

“Well, see, that's the thing. I came today because I happened to be in Dallas with my cousin Lori-Lou here.”

“Good to meet you.” Madge grabbed Lori-Lou's hand and shook it. “Member of the wedding party? I know a maid of honor when I see one!”

“Actually, Lori-Lou is married.”

My cousin grinned. “So, I guess that would technically make me—”

“Matron of honor!” Madge clasped her hands together. “Well, no time to waste. C'mon in and meet the crew. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. Nadia's in her office behind the shop, so I'll let her know you're here. She'll be thrilled you're early! That'll give her a couple of extra days for the design.”

So much for thinking the woman was as tough as nails. Looked like she had a soft spot for contest winners, which only made my plight more pitiable. Or terrifying.

At this point, a couple of other girls came out of a back room, joining the blonde. After Madge introduced me as the contest winner, all three started applauding. Oh. Dear. Then they took to chattering. One of them appeared to be speaking another language, but I couldn't quite make it out, what with so many voices overlapping. Beyond them, Brady James glanced at me with intrigue in his eyes.

Madge continued to gush over me, and seconds later Brady joined us.

“Wait . . . you're the one who won the contest? Why didn't you tell me? I would've introduced you to Madge and made a big deal over you being here. She's been so excited to meet you. We all have.”

“Well, thank you, but that's the thing. I don't really want to—”

“And my mom. She's in back,” Brady said. He reached to straighten a veil on the mannequin to my right. “She's going over some paperwork in her office right now, but I'm sure she'll be thrilled you're here. Did she know you were coming?”

“No. I didn't tell anyone.” And I certainly hadn't planned on a reception like this. How could I tell them now that I wouldn't be taking the dress? They were treating me like the queen of Sheba.

“Shame on you for not warning us that you were coming in early.” Madge patted my arm in a motherly fashion. “We would've called the press. At the very least, I would've brought my camera.”

“Ooh, I have a great camera on my phone.” The blonde grabbed her phone and started snapping photos of me. “Do you mind?”

“Well, actually . . .” Ugh. I could just see it now:
Jilted Fairfield
bride-to-be shows up at Cosmopolitan Bridal to make
a fool of herself in front of pro basketball player
and his . . . mother?

Not that I was ever really a bride-to-be. And that reminded me that I had to tell Madge I wouldn't need a wedding gown.

“I'm sure Madge and the girls would love to show you around while you're waiting on my mom.” Brady gestured to the three young women standing nearby and introduced them
as Twiggy—
Really? Twiggy?
—Crystal, and Dahlia, the one I'd seen earlier with Madge.

Dahlia had one of those rich accents from . . . maybe Russia? No, Sweden. Hmm. I couldn't really tell, but she definitely wasn't from Fairfield. Her platinum blonde hair reminded me of one of those gals from the older Hollywood housewives show. Her face was a perfect oval. Her cheekbones high and exotic. Not a wrinkle around those beautifully made-up eyes. I'd be willing to bet she'd had work done, but no telling where. Every feature was picture perfect.

Twiggy, thin with a short reddish-blonde pixie cut, seemed really nice and bubbly. She held herself with confidence. And judging from the way she sashayed when she walked, she'd done some time as a runway model before taking on this job at the bridal shop. Maybe that's where the name had come from. A stage name, perhaps? And the dress she wore showed she knew her stuff when it came to fashion.

Then there was Crystal, who drew me in at once. Her freckled nose and dirty blonde hair put me in mind of someone I knew quite well—myself. And when she opened her mouth to speak, the thickest Southern accent tumbled out. If I had to guess, I'd say Crystal was from South Carolina. Or Alabama. Or Georgia.

Turned out I was right on the last count. She hailed from Georgia. Looked like we had another thing in common: peaches. All of this I learned in only a couple minutes of knowing her. And the fact that she had a passion for fashion, as she put it.

The three girls seemed giddy and fun as they took photos of me and then shared about their various jobs at the shop, but Madge was all business. “I'll show you around until Nadia is free.” She turned her attention to Brady and smiled. “Sound agreeable?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Not sure it'll take very long.”

“Are you kidding?” I glanced at the racks on my right. “I live, eat, sleep, and breathe wedding gowns. This is like heaven to me.” I glanced around the room. “Everything is so . . . white.”

“Just how you pictured heaven, then?”

“Well, close.” I released a happy sigh. “Just waiting for the angel choir to chime in.”

“My pitch is terrible,” Madge said. “So don't count on me for any angel action.”

Brady laughed and gave her a hug. “Well, enjoy yourselves, ladies. I'll let Mom know you're here. If anyone needs me after that, I'll be in my office.”

I still couldn't quite figure out what a pro basketball player was doing with an office at a bridal shop, even a shop owned by a family member. Had he traded in his running shoes for gowns and veils? Very odd. I tried to picture the look on Casey's face should he see his favorite player seated behind a desk at a bridal salon, but I couldn't. No doubt he would cringe at the very idea. Then again, what did it matter what Casey thought?

Madge's words interrupted my own thoughts. “We'll start with existing gowns so you can see Nadia's work,” she said. “It should inspire you. She's going to be creating yours from scratch, you know, based on your favorite movie or TV star.”

“Or singer,” Twiggy chimed in.

“Yes, or singer.” Madge nodded. “Point is, you get to choose the person who inspires you, and Nadia will take it from there.”

“She does such a spectacular job of capturing the look and feel of that person in the gown,” Crystal said. “Have you seen the Katharine Hepburn gown? It's like you've stepped back in time.”

“I'm sure they're all great,” I said. “But I really need to tell you that . . .” My words trailed off. I couldn't seem to spit out the rest.

“Oh, it's okay, honey,” Madge said. “No need to spill the whole story right off. You need time to think it through, I suppose.”

“Time to choose the best parts of the story for the
Texas Bride
interview,” Crystal added.

“In the meantime, I'll show you the inner sanctum. Nadia's design studio.” Madge leaned close to whisper, “Almost no one gets to go in there, so you have to promise not to share what you see until that reporter from
Texas Bride
comes to interview you. It's all top-secret information until then. Got it?”

“Got it,” I echoed. “But that's really why I've come. I have something I need to tell you that's kind of a secret too.”

“Ooh, inquiring minds want to know.” Madge laughed.

“Katie's
great
at keeping secrets.” Lori-Lou gave me a “please don't spill the beans until after she's shown us around the shop” look, and I obliged by closing my mouth and trailing on Madge's heels.

I elbowed my ornery cousin and mouthed the words, “I
have
to tell them.”

She gave me a bemused smile, followed by a wink. Goofy girl. Did she not understand that I couldn't go through with this?

We saw the gowns, many of which took my breath away. I'd never seen so many designs in my life—everything from frilly to simple to over the top. Many were Nadia's, but the shop featured designs by a host of well-known designers, including one of my favorites from the Galveston area, Gabi Delgado.

After touring the gowns, Madge took us to the studio in the back where Nadia designed her line of wedding dresses. Long tables stretched the expanse of the room, with sewing machines and fabrics in abundance. I'd never seen so many bolts of satin and tulle in my life. And the trims! I could've spent hours just looking through the shimmery bolts of loveli
ness. They took my breath away. I wanted to finger each one and dream of the possibilities for where they might end up. Brides from all over the globe would likely find these lovely bits attached to their gowns.

“Want to see the fitting rooms?” Madge's words interrupted my ponderings.

“Hmm?” I couldn't imagine why fitting rooms deserved a stop on the tour, but why not?

She led the way to a row of closed doors and opened the first one to reveal a spacious changing area unlike any I'd ever seen before.

“W-wow.” I'd been in a few fitting rooms in my life, of course. Department stores at the mall in Dallas, for instance. And Fanny's Fine Fashions in Fairfield. The one and only fitting room at Fanny's was spacious—well, spacious enough for Fanny, who'd been aptly named, to fit inside. The curtain in front of it offered a wee bit of privacy. Stress
wee bit
.