Lorea stabbed her pincushion with a needle. “When I envisioned my future as a dressmaker, Sylvia was never in those dreams.”
“We’ll get through it,” I said. “When I lived in San Francisco, there were a few bridezillas I worked with at Bellissima.” I thought about the difference of owning my business. The clients I dealt with on a monthly basis when I lived in California were mostly pleasant and there was always someone to assist me—here it was just Lorea and me. Not to mention that in addition to our current work load of wedding planning, the two of us had decided to venture into the wedding dress side of the business.
Lorea pulled out a dress and grumbled, “If I have to pick out this hem one more time . . .”
I drummed my nails on the counter. “Just think how much Sylvia is paying for each additional alteration.”
Lorea scowled. She adjusted the silver chain holding the Basque cross, each arm of the cross curved, angling into the next in a sweeping pattern. Her frown lines reverted to a smirk. “Not to mention the price of her wedding dress.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yes, there is that to consider.”
“But now I have to deal with fitting another one of her lovely friends.” Lorea kicked her shoes off, kneeling on the floor to cut fabric. She wore five-inch wedge sandals so clients wouldn’t tower over her, but she always took them off when she was sewing.
“I’m surprised we’ve made it this far. I thought she would’ve called it off by now,” I said.
Lorea shook her head. “I might win that bet. It shouldn’t be hard to believe, but I can’t fathom getting engaged to try to make Brock jealous.”
We’d discussed our secret theory a few times, but I still wasn’t sure if Sylvia was out to get Brock back or if she just wanted to win the competition for Most Glorious Wedding.
“She doesn’t have a chance with Brock. He and Natalie are a perfect match,” Lorea said. “I wish we didn’t have to deal with Sylvia at all.”
“At least we have Natalie, thanks to you.”
Lorea’s shoulders relaxed when I mentioned the other wedding we were planning, the one for her best friend. “I might quit if it weren’t for Natalie.” She sighed. “But Sylvia’s dress really is perfect. I’m so glad she liked it.”
“It probably helped that you told her it was one of a kind and the most expensive dress coming into the store.”
Lorea nodded, and then she looked at me, her eyes scrunching in the corners as if deciding to share a secret.
“Whatever you want to say, just say it.” I tilted my head in her direction.
Lorea laughed. “I keep thinking about the dress with the organza frills. I know Natalie has something else picked out, but I can just see her in it.” She pulled the measuring tape through her fingers. “Would it be totally inappropriate to ask her to come down and try it on?”
My gaze traveled over Lorea’s head to the gown in question hanging for display. The bodice was fitted, embellished with thousands of sparkling sequins outlining the embroidered roses that reached to the hipline. Then the ruffles started, and I loved every one of them. The lightweight organza kissed the glittering tulle skirt with nearly thirty layers of frills covering the wide bell skirt of the princess dress. Natalie would look exquisite in it.
I sighed. “I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t let her at least see it.”
Lorea grinned, and I noticed her squeezing the pincushion. “I’ll call and tell her it’s my duty as her bridesmaid to introduce her to this dress.” She dashed off to make the call, her reading glasses swinging haphazardly from their chain. A few minutes later, she returned. “Natalie will be here in an hour. She told me she was just looking at bridal magazines, wondering if she really was in love with the dress she was thinking of buying. She sounded so happy I called.”
“That’s great. Can you imagine if we could sell that dress, too? We’d have enough money to pay cash for the next shipment.”
Lorea nodded, and I knew she was mentally calculating how far the gown’s price tag of eleven thousand dollars would take us.
Moving to my desk, I clicked through a few spreadsheets and brought up my to-do list. I enjoyed planning weddings, and working on Natalie’s had been more satisfying than most. But my feelings differed for my other major client. To say that Sylvia’s wedding plans had been exhausting would be an understatement. She had pushed the limits on every aspect of her dream wedding. One thing was certain, though—the Rockfort-Porter wedding would be absolutely gorgeous. I scrolled through my contact list and pulled up Frankie Lawson’s number.
“Hello, you’ve reached Francesca Lawson, wedding coordinator for the Sun Valley Lodge. We’d love to make your day unforgettable, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back with you soon.”
I waited for the beep. “Hi, Frankie. This is Adri. I wondered if you’d talked to the chef yet about the possibility of making a second wedding cake shaped out of the fourteen different cheeses Sylvia selected. I’ll have some color samples ready for you later today so the crackers don’t clash with the linen.”
Biting the inside of my cheek again, I ended the call. I took my job seriously, but a wedding for someone like Miss Nostril only happens once a decade. I relaxed and let the smile creep across my face as I pictured Frankie laughing when she heard the message. Sometimes I had to remind myself to enjoy the small moments.
“Before you ask, I’m planning to finish Sylvia’s centerpieces by tonight,” Lorea said.
“Are you sure? I can
