The attendants' differently-styled dresses were all made from the same teal silk by a local seamstress Worth's mother had recommended. As maid of honor, Donna's cowl-necked sheath most closely mirrored the bride's dress, but it fell just below the knees with a layered skirt. Kari's had a waist, puffed sleeves and full skirt, while Layla's empire waist gown accommodated her growing belly.
Layla giggled. "Thank you for not picking some god-awful color or design. I can actually wear this again. I feel like a princess." She did a little twirl herself, knocking over a lamp but catching it before it fell.
"Careful, little mama," Kari sighed. "You'll make my niece or nephew dizzy." She dearly loved her sister-in-law but sometimes she felt she had to mother her a bit.
There was a soft knock on the door before it opened. Carol Henderson entered, radiant in the same ivory lace dress in which she'd been wed some weeks before. Jessica had assured her that it would be completely appropriate for the day.
"Oh, ladies. You look wonderful!" Carol exclaimed. "I wanted to give my daughter one last hug before I'm seated." She threw her arms lovingly but carefully around Jessica. "I don't want to smudge your makeup, sweetheart—Kari, you should change vocations. You could be a make-up artist to the stars." She turned back to the bride. "I just wanted to hug you one final time as Jessica Daniels. When next we hug, you'll be Mrs. Vincent!' Normally calm and collected, Carol's face twisted into a happy but emotional mess.
"Don't cry, Mom, or you'll get me started too," Jessica said softly.
The other women instinctively backed up a few steps to give mother and daughter a little privacy in the small room, each one lost in thought. Each of them had lost their own mothers—Kari's mother had been Carol's friend for many years before dying of cancer. Layla's mother had died when she was quite young. And Donna's—no, I won't even think about that today.
"Your father would be so proud of you," Carol was saying. "He loved to talk about walking you down the aisle one day, but Chet is thrilled you asked him."
"'Help me with the veil?" Jessica smiled over to Kari, who was standing the closest. Her stepsister carefully removed the simple veil from its little stand and handed it to Carol, who gently rested it on Jessica's head.
They all oohed and ahhed before Carol squealed as she checked her wristwatch. "Yikes! It's time to start, ladies. I'd better go. Oh, and you will be impressed with the men. I stopped by to hug Worth before I came here, and they all look hot!"
They laughed as Carol left, leaving the door ajar so they could hear "their" music when the organist played it. The rehearsal had gone smoothly the night before and no one seemed particularly nervous, least of all the bride-to-be. Jessica had no second thoughts whatsoever, it appeared.
Watching her friend, Donna thought, I hope I'll feel that way on my wedding day. As Kari and Layla picked up their bouquets and took last minute looks in the mirror, Donna smoothed the back of Jessica's veil. Soon they would join Chet in the church's narthex and prepare for their grand entrance. Eric had already taken his seat on the bride's side, she was sure. He'd promised to sit where she could find him easily in the sea of faces. He'd known Jessica for so long, it made sense he'd want to be on her side.
Jessica didn't have a huge family, but all of their magazine co-workers, plus friends from school and former jobs, would be there for the joyous occasion. Worth's side would likely have fewer, but more exotic, guests. After a lifetime of traveling the globe to escape his troubled past, there might be any number of foreigners in the group.
"I'm so happy for you," Donna whispered to her friend. "Thank you for letting me be part of your special day."
Jessica directed a little air kiss to her so as not to muss her lipstick. "You were my first friend at the magazine, and you are my best friend ever, Donna Radford, soon-to-be-Donna-Brown. You've been with me from the beginning of our relationship—who else would be my maid of honor?"
"Remember the flowers?" Donna teased. "I thought they were from Eric, although I had no idea who 'Eric' was."
Almost a year ago to the day, Worth had sent a gorgeous vase of flowers to the magazine office where they worked—where he was the brand new editor, unbeknownst to them—along with a note of apology. Worth had crossed the line in a most delightful and passionate way, from what Jessica had finally divulged. Jessica had thought he was Eric at the time.
Donna gave a little smirk, remembering Jessica's implication that Eric was not passionate like the man she'd kissed in the darkness last Halloween at a party. "I should've known then that it wasn't Eric," she'd said.
He's passionate with me, though. You would never guess the things we do in our red room. Never in a million years. Maybe one day she'd show Jessica the room—not to brag about their relationship, certainly, but Donna was fiercely loyal. She wanted Jessica to know that Eric had grown, changed, that they were as well-suited for one another as Jessica and Eric had not been. It was obvious that Jessica still thought of Eric as being unemotional, a bit stiff. Stiff indeed. Especially when I pull out the cuffs. She laughed out loud.
"What's so—oh, there's your cue," Jessica said as the organist began playing Clair de Lune.
The ladies took a spontaneous deep breath in unison and stepped out into the narthex where Chet was waiting. As they approached, he held out his right elbow for Jessica to hold. "Ladies, you look lovely. Now let's get this show started."
First Kari, then Layla, began their journeys down the
