Cass exchanged a look with Alice and the rest of her sisters that Wye couldn’t interpret. Was there something wrong with going to Ellie’s Bridals?
“I should have asked you earlier… but maybe you won’t want to… or maybe one of you won’t want her—” Cass turned to her sisters.
Wye had no idea what Cass was trying to say, but Alice nodded as if she understood perfectly. “I can alter Mom’s dress one more time—unless Wye wants a hoopskirt wedding, too,” she added with a grin.
Wye’s breath caught in her throat. Alice couldn’t mean—
“I’m good with that.” Jo nodded, then sighed, “Which means we’re in those green bridesmaid gowns again, huh?”
“I’ll alter those, too,” Alice assured her.
“Sadie?” Cass asked.
“I think it’s perfect,” Sadie said. “Wye belongs here. She always has.”
“I’m good with it,” Lena said seriously. “Wye has earned her place here. So has Emerson,” she admitted. “At first I didn’t think I wanted any more men around, but he’s the most trustworthy and least intrusive one I’ve ever met. You picked good, Wye.” She got back to work.
Wye’s heart swelled a little, but she couldn’t believe what they were offering. “I can’t wear your mother’s wedding dress.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?” Cass asked. “Alice can make you any dress you want, you know.”
Alice nodded again. “Gladly. But Mom wants you to wear her dress, Wye—if you want to.”
“How can you know that?” Wye squeaked, but it was just something to say, because she was feeling that presence again—and that light touch on her arm—as if Amelia were saying it was okay to want to belong here, to be a part of it all.
Alice just cocked her head and smiled.
“Say yes, Wye,” Cass said gently. “Please.”
Wye opened her mouth, feeling like she was about to do the bravest thing she’d ever done. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and leaping, hoping someone, somehow would be there to catch her.
She shut her eyes.
“I’d love to.”
“Yay!” Alice clapped her hands and bounced. “I love altering that gown. It shapes itself to everyone and gets better every time. Come on, we have to go to town.”
“What for?” Wye opened her eyes again to find everyone beaming back at her.
“Beads. I’m going to add some beadwork this time. Don’t worry. It will be beautiful.”
Wye believed her; everything Alice created was beautiful.
“But we need to call the rental company for the tables—”
“I’ve got that under control,” Cass told her. “Go on. Have fun. I’ll watch Elise, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Cass took the baby from Wye’s arms. “Go on—shoo!”
They took Alice’s truck to town and parked in front of Chance Creek’s little fabric shop.
“Will you be able to find what you need here?” Wye asked as they approached the small boutique. There wasn’t time to order anything in.
“I’m sure I will,” Alice assured her. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your dress done in time. It’s going to be fine.”
“Is it? Can you see that?”
A cloud passed over Alice’s eyes, and she took her time answering. “I don’t deal in that kind of foresight anymore,” she said gently. “I don’t meddle in people’s lives.”
“But you do see the future.”
“I’ve learned to keep to the present as much as possible.”
Her answers weren’t very satisfying. Wye wasn’t second-guessing her choice to marry Emerson, but she did know she was taking a risk hurrying into the arrangement. If there was something she should know, she wished Alice would tell her.
“Look—they’re changing the name on Ellie’s Bridals,” Alice cried, stopping in front of the fabric shop and pointing down the street.
Wyoming looked up to see she was right. A couple of workmen were hoisting a large wooden sign over the door to the boutique that read Ellie & Caitlyn’s Creations.
“I’d heard Ellie was bringing her niece into the business in a more significant way. Here’s proof of it.”
“I bet Caitlyn’s over the moon.” Caitlyn had been a single mother but was married now and settled in the town. Wye had known her back in school, although they hadn’t been close.
“It’s good for Ellie, too. Sadie says her arthritis has been slowing her down, no matter how many of her tinctures she takes. Now she has a partner.”
“Alice! Wyoming! Good to see you. Did you have a good Christmas?”
Wye turned to see Megan Lawrence coming toward them, a local realtor who’d also grown up in Chance Creek. “It was a wonderful Christmas,” she said. “How about you?”
“Good. Quiet but good,” Megan said. “I’ve got to run—I’m showing a house to a client—but I wanted to say congratulations, Wye. You’ll pass on to your brother that I’m so happy, won’t you?”
“Uh… sure?” Wye stumbled over her words, unsure why Megan had included Ward in her congratulations. Did she think her brother would be relieved Emerson was marrying her?
There was no time to ask for a clarification; Megan kept going, waving at them over her shoulder.
“Alice! Come in!” The fabric store’s proprietor came out to meet them, a young, beaming woman, who ushered them inside.
“She loves me because I spend a fortune here,” Alice whispered to Wye as they entered the store, but as she told the woman what she needed and they headed to the bead section, Wye thought there was a genuine friendship between them—one creative person to another.
Alice began to describe what she wanted to accomplish. The other woman brought out paper and pencils, and together they began to sketch swirls and flourishes and rosettes. Wye drifted away, realizing the store
