Lorea kept her focus on the dress. “It’s exquisite. And when Sylvia sees this, she’ll tell all her friends.” Lorea clenched her hand around the necklace she always wore, her thumb tracing each of the four comma-shaped heads of the silver Basque cross she referred to as a Lauburu. “Her wedding will be absolutely gorgeous.”
“Can you believe how heavy this hem is?” I knelt down to examine the beadwork fastened to the thick lines of embroidery. Shimmering rhinestones were sewn in five-petal flower arrangements along the hem. The fancy stitching matched a rhinestone-encrusted clip at the hip of the gown and the tight-fitting bodice. “Sylvia will probably want you to try to take it in around the waist—even if it fits perfectly.”
Lorea frowned. “It’s a size four, but I’ll call her. Should we time how long it takes her to get here for her first fitting?”
“Wasn’t she coming in at one o’clock anyway?”
“Yeah, to check on how the bridesmaid dresses are coming,” Lorea answered. “I guess she can wait until then.”
“If you do call her, I bet she’ll be here in less than an hour.”
“My bet is on thirty-seven minutes.”
My fingers snagged on an uneven part of the hem. “Please tell me this isn’t—” I covered my mouth when I saw the gaping hole in the hemline of Sylvia’s dress. The frayed edge of the fabric loomed before me, and I felt like I was choking on eighteen thousand dollars, the price tag on Sylvia’s gown. Lorea and I were banking on the sale to launch our new dress business.
Lorea knelt beside me and examined the hole. “You’d better pray that Sylvia doesn’t stop by for a surprise visit.”
My stomach churned. “There isn’t time to order another.”
“Hang on, we can still make this work.” Lorea ran the material through her fingers. The corners of her eyes crinkled in concentration. “Give me an hour, and you won’t be able to tell me where the hole was.”
“Are you sure?” The hole looked more like a slit in the fabric, about six inches long.
“I have to be.” Lorea jerked her head toward the clock.
I followed the motion and cringed. It was nine forty-five. Sylvia had been known to stop by the boutique to start her day. “I’m taking a picture of that damage first. I can’t imagine how it could have made it through their quality checkpoint.” I stalked to my desk and grabbed my camera. Wriggling my shoulders, I imagined the stress rolling off and melting into the carpet.
Lorea held the bottom of the hem so I could take pictures, and then she ripped the tape off the final box. She stood and surprised me with a hug. “Before I finish unpacking, I just wanted to say thank you so much for giving this dress business a chance.”
I returned the embrace. “Thank you. I think this will give the shop the special flair I’ve been looking for.” I had been reluctant to add one more line of expense to my wedding planning business, but the wisdom of becoming a full-service bridal boutique couldn’t be ignored. In my expanded new business, I would plan the weddings and also give the bride the opportunity to buy wedding amenities directly from me. The two meshed seamlessly in the small town of Ketchum, where residents were used to driving more than an hour to get to a large department store.
Lorea nodded. “I can see my dream of someday owning a dress shop coming true.”
“Me, too. As long as we’re in the same building.”
“For sure.” Lorea pulled up the flaps of the last box.
My eyes kept straying to the hole in Sylvia’s gown. I ran through the conversation I’d be having with the dressmakers in China, and it wasn’t pretty. When I opened my boutique, I used every last cent of my savings and borrowed a few thousand dollars from my parents. Adding the dress business was a wise decision, and Lorea was carrying the brunt of the loan for that, but I didn’t have a backup plan if it failed. At that moment, I saw just how easily Sylvia Rockfort could ruin me—if she didn’t like her gown, then we wouldn’t get the coveted endorsement we needed in Country Bride Magazine. The referral would be wonderful, but if Sylvia decided the gown didn’t suit her, Lorea and I would be left holding the bill.
“Wait a minute.” Lorea ran her hand along each of the gowns hanging in their individual garment bags. “Please tell me I can’t count.”
“Um, math isn’t my favorite subject, either.”
Shaking her head, Lorea began pulling all the packing material from the box.
“What’s wrong?”
“There are only nine dresses.” Her chin trembled slightly as she hurriedly recounted the gowns. “One is missing. I think it might be the one with the beaded hem.”
My throat felt chalky. “The one Sylvia ordered in case she didn’t like her gown?”
Lorea kept pulling packing material out of the box. Long strips of brown paper were quickly strewn across the floor. I dropped to the ground and dug through the box. Then I stood and recounted the gowns.
“Let’s open up each bag and pull them out. Maybe there are two gowns in the same bag.”
Lorea’s eyes lit up with hope. “That’s probably it.”
Neither of us spoke, and the sound of plastic and rustling satin covered the dull roar of blood pumping in my ears. We were working against the clock for Sylvia’s wedding, and we couldn’t afford to upset her.
“It’s not here. I can’t believe it,” Lorea cried. “Of all the dresses to go missing, it would be Sylvia’s alternate.”
My imagined conversation with the dressmakers took a drastic turn, but I slowly breathed in and out. “You know what? She’s going to love her first choice. You’ll steer her in the right direction. Maybe convince her it would be bad luck to try on the other dress when the first one
