Every Bride Needs a Groom (10 page)

“Wow.” I couldn't seem to manage much else.

“Wow, wow!” Lori-Lou echoed as she stood frozen in place. Except for the incessant beeping from her phone, the whole room was silent.

“Mom's pretty fixated with fashions from days gone by,” Brady explained as he led us to the sewing area.

“I read all about it in
Texas Bride
,” Lori-Lou said. “The article said her work has prompted a revival in the industry.”

“That's true.” Brady nodded, and I could see the look of pride in his eyes as we talked about his mother.

“I just know that brides can't get enough of her gowns,” I added.

“They're coming from out of the woodwork.” He laughed. “Not just from Texas, but all over the US and beyond.”

“Vintage is in.” Lori-Lou stopped at the cutting table to run her hand over a swatch of satin. “Wow. Wow.”

“You ladies give me a minute to let Mom know you're here. She's anxious to meet you, Katie.” Brady smiled and headed off to a room marked O
FFICE
.

Moments later Nadia James entered the sewing room. I couldn't help but gasp as the lovely woman moved in our direction. She had to be about Mama's age, but talk about polar opposites. Where Mama was short and slightly round, Nadia was tall and thin. Mama's short gray hair was naturally curly. Nadia had obviously taken hours to perfect her platinum locks.

Lori-Lou nudged me with her elbow and mouthed “Wow” once more. I felt like echoing the word myself. Nadia was the sort of woman who looked as if she belonged on the cover of a magazine. Gorgeous. Other than on television, I'd never seen anyone so well put together. And well preserved to boot. Her perfectly bobbed platinum hair held my attention, but the perfection didn't end there. High cheekbones. Excellent skin. And the makeup! Man, talk about flawless.

We didn't get a lot of women like this in Fairfield. Well, unless you counted Frenchie at Do or Dye. She'd gone away to beauty school a duckling and come back a swan. Rumor had it she'd gone under the knife, but the supposed plastic surgery had only changed her appearance—in particular, her nose. Her sparkling personality remained the same.

Speaking of sparkling, the older woman now standing in front of me sparkled with glitz and glam. No wonder folks gravitated to Nadia for her vintage gowns. She shimmered to the core. Well, maybe it had a little something to do with
the crystals on her blouse. And that necklace! Were those real diamonds? Surely not.

Brady gestured to her with a broad smile on his face. “Ladies, let me introduce you to my mother, Nadia James. Mama, this is Katie Fisher, our contest winner.”

I gave her a closer look and saw the family resemblance. Both were tall. Both had sparkling blue eyes. Both had that “just been in the sun” bronzed look about them. Most of all, they both seemed confident and kind. Approachable. All it took was one look at the sincerity in this amazing woman's eyes for me to know I had to come clean about my non-wedding, no matter what Madge had insisted.

“I . . . I . . .” I swallowed hard, knowing I was about to wipe that sparkle right out of her eyes with my terrible news.

Courage, Katie. Courage.

You aren't wealthy until you have something money can't buy.

Garth Brooks

N
adia extended her hand with a warm smile. “Katie, I'm so glad to meet you,” she said. “I've looked forward to this day for ages.”

I took hold of her hand—wow, soft—and shook it. “Nice to meet you.” The intoxicating aroma of expensive perfume wafted in the air between us. I didn't know much about such things, but I could tell money when I smelled it.

“For some reason, I thought you were coming Monday, not today.” Nadia tucked her hair behind her right ear.

“Her plans have been a little . . . loose.” Lori-Lou typed
something into her phone, then glanced up at our hostess with a whimsical smile.

Nadia glanced at my cousin, her thinly plucked brows elevating slightly. “And who have we here?”

“Oh, this is Lori-Lou,” I said.

“Katie's matron of honor,” Brady explained.

“Yes, matron of honor. Because I'm married with children.” Lori-Lou giggled. “Otherwise I'd be a maid of honor. I mean, you know . . .” Her words drifted off as I glared at her once again.

“Wonderful to meet you!” Nadia fussed with her hair. “Well, as I said, I wish I'd known you were coming this morning, ladies. I would've called the news stations. They could've sent a camera crew to greet you. Hope you don't mind that it's just me.”

My heart quickened. “Oh, I'm relieved, actually. Can't imagine being greeted by the press. You see, I don't want my parents to know about this.”

“Don't want your parents to know?” Nadia's face contorted, then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I get it! You want to surprise your parents with the gown? This is even better! We'll let them know at the last minute, when your photo appears on the cover of
Texas Bride
magazine. How's that? I'll be flying back in from Paris for a charity event that week prior, so it's the perfect time for the big reveal. I don't mind holding off with the media. Makes perfect sense, actually. We'll stir up excitement in the week leading up to the reveal. Create a sense of anticipation.”

Anticipation. Now there was a word I knew well.

“My parents live in Fairfield,” I explained. “They rarely pay attention to Dallas news, especially wedding stuff. It's the furthest thing from their minds.”

“Don't folks get married in Fairfield?” Nadia asked. “Weddings aren't a big deal?”

“Well, sure, they're a big deal. But in Fairfield we all get married in our local church or at the civic center. There's a gazebo at the park that we sometimes use for photos. Most of the girls I know got married in gowns that they bought at Fanny's or online.”

“Fanny's?” Nadia looked confused.

“Online?” Brady echoed.

“You're in the big city now, Katie.” Lori-Lou laughed and shoved her phone in her purse once again.

Nadia took me by the arm and patted it as she led me to her work area. “Yes, here in Dallas we do it a bit differently, especially at Cosmopolitan. Weddings are all about the gown. And the veil. But mostly about the gown.” Nadia released a girlish giggle. “We are dedicated—and I do mean completely dedicated—to giving the bride the experience of a lifetime. A girl only gets married once, you know.” A sad look came over her. “Well, in theory, anyway.”

“Oh, I know Cosmopolitan is the best.”

“It's wonderful to make brides feel . . . wonderful.” Nadia glanced at her watch. “I wish I had time to visit with you awhile, Katie—to hear your story—but I have an appointment with another bride in less than an hour. Would you mind if we went ahead and took your measurements right away, instead of waiting until Monday? That way I can spend the weekend thinking through a plan. It'll give me a head start, which is always nice.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, no, please don't.” I felt my face grow warm as I looked at Brady.

“Oh, right, right.” She glanced at her son. “Do you mind, honey? We need some privacy. And would you mind fetching Madge for me? And Dahlia too. I'll need her help with my sketches.”

Brady shot out of the room quicker than a player making a three-point shot in the fourth quarter of the game. I turned to face my benefactor, determined to tell her the truth before Madge arrived. “Nadia, I'm so grateful for this. You have no idea.”

“Oh, sweetie, I do.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was a young bride once too.” In that moment, the strong features in her face softened. “I married young and had nothing. Absolutely nothing. It would've meant the world to me to win a dress like this, so I understand.”

“Well, thank you, but what I meant to say was—”

“Ooh, your ring!” She reached for my left hand and lifted it. “It's gorgeous! Antique?”

“Yes. It was my grandmother's.”

“I love it. Keeping things in the family is so nice. I'm sure your fiancé was thrilled for the opportunity to slip it on your finger.”

“Well, actually, he—”

“Nadia!” Madge's voice sounded from the open doorway. “You need me?”

“I do.” Nadia released her grip on my hand. “And Dahlia too.”

“She's with a customer right now.” Madge walked our way. “Princess Bride.”

“Ah.” Nadia nodded as she looped the measuring tape around my hips. “Got it.”

“Princess Bride?” I glanced up as Nadia reached around me to measure my bust.
Awkward!
“An actual princess?”

“No.” Madge rolled her eyes. “In this case she happens to be the daughter of some oil sheik in the Middle East. Spoiled rich kid. Princess attitude, but none of the grace. We get a lot of 'em in the store, trust me.”

“Ooh, this I've gotta see.” Without any other warning,
Lori-Lou shot out of the workroom door and back into the shop. I felt sure she'd return with some whopper stories.

“These Princess Brides are accustomed to getting what they want when they want it, with never a thought for cost. Daddy has deep pockets.” Madge smirked and reached for a notepad.

Nadia glanced over at her and flashed a warning look.

Madge clamped her mouth shut. “Anyway, how can I help?”

“I'm taking measurements. You write everything down.” Nadia glanced up at me with a smile. “Hips are thirty-four inches.”

I did my best not to groan aloud.

“Now, while I measure, let's talk styles,” Nadia said. “What sort of design are you looking at? French bustle? Trumpet skirt?”

“Hmm?”

“I was thinking with your figure, maybe a modified sweetheart neckline? What do you think?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Something light. With an airy feel. Maybe a dropped waist? Ruffles?”

“I . . . it sounds wonderful.”

Nadia appeared to be thinking. “Maybe I should have asked what famous person we're patterning this gown after. You have someone special that you like from days gone by?”

“Oh, lots of famous movie stars.” In that moment, however, I couldn't think of a single one. Nadia began a lengthy discussion about the various movie stars she'd patterned dresses after in the past. Her favorite, it turned out, was Grace Kelly.

Several minutes into the conversation, Dahlia entered with Lori-Lou on her heels.

“Wow, Katie! You should've seen that bride out there. She was . . . wow.” Lori-Lou gave Dahlia an admiring look. “Great job reining her in, girl. Impressive.”

“Thank you.” Dahlia giggled. “I left her in Twiggy's capable hands. She's great with the Princess Brides.”

“So you get that a lot?” Lori-Lou sat in a chair across from me and watched as Nadia measured the circumference of my neck.

“Girl, we see all sorts.” Madge looked up from her tablet to join in the conversation. “You wouldn't believe what we go through with the various brides that come in.”

“What do you mean?” Lori-Lou looked confused.

“Well, there's the organized bride who knows what she wants, down to the style of dress and type of fabric,” Nadia said. She looked at Madge. “Neck size is 13.5 inches.”

“Got it.” Madge wrote down the number.

“There's the spoiled rich girl bride who just wants a designer gown because it's going to make her friends jealous,” Dahlia added. “You just saw one of those for yourself.”

“There's the ‘I'm so clueless I don't know what I want' bride,” Madge said. “And then . . .” She shuddered. “Then there are the really tough cases.”

“Tough cases?” I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

Nadia stopped measuring me long enough to explain. “Sure. Brides whose parents just went through a divorce. Brides who've just lost a family member. Brides who want to be happy about their upcoming wedding, but just can't seem to focus because of what they're going through on the perimeter. Those poor girls can't help that they're going through trauma, so I do my best to wrap my arms around them and talk them through.”

“We have other tough cases too.” Madge chuckled. “You gonna tell her about the double Gs, Nadia?”

“Double Gs?” I asked.

Nadia's cheeks turned a lovely crimson shade. “The double Gs are the large-chested brides. Hard to fit, but just as deserving as every other bride-to-be. We get them in every shape and
size around here, trust me. Short, tall, curvy, rail-thin . . . and we somehow manage to fit every one. But you . . .” She gave me a reassuring smile. “You are the ideal shape. Perfect for a magazine cover in every conceivable way.” She pulled the tape taut and then turned to Madge. “Bust size thirty-five inches.”

I suddenly felt more than a little intimidated. “I'm sorry. I hope you'll forgive me, but I feel so out of place right now.”

Nadia put the measuring tape down. “Why, honey? Have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable? I sure hope not. Maybe we've rushed into this? Perhaps I should've waited until Monday after all. I just thought that it would be nice to get this part over with, but I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or rushed.”

“I'm just not used to . . .” I gestured around the room filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of materials. “This.”

Nadia followed my gaze. “Being fitted for a couture gown, you mean?” she asked.

“Well, that, and all of this. I'm just a small-town girl. This is very . . . new to me.”

“You'll get used to being pampered.” Nadia gave me a motherly smile. “We want to make you feel like a real princess.”

“Accept it, Katie.” Lori-Lou glared at me. “It's a gift.”

“Sounds nice, but . . .” I said the only thing that came to mind. “Mrs. James, do you happen to know anything about Loretta Lynn?”

“The country-western singer? Sure.”

“Well, if you recall, she left her little hometown of Butcher Holler for the first time with her new husband, Doo. They drove all over creation trying to get radio stations to play her song and eventually ended up in Nashville. Remember?”

“It's been a long time since I saw the movie about her life,
but I think I vaguely remember what you're talking about. They took a road trip?”

“Yes. They left Butcher Holler and set out for new places,” I explained.

“An adventure,” Lori-Lou added. She reached for her phone as it beeped again.

“Wait. Butcher Holler?” Dahlia looked back and forth between us. “Is that a place?”

“Of course it's a place.” Madge clucked her tongue. “You don't know Loretta Lynn's real-life story?”

Dahlia shook her head.

“Quite the tale,” Madge said.

“Well, anyway, I feel kind of like Loretta Lynn right about now,” I said. “A fish out of water. That was my point.”

“Dallas is your Nashville, in other words. Got it.” Madge slipped an arm over my shoulders. “You'll be okay, kid. And we promise not to make you sing, if that makes you feel any better.”

As she released her hold on me, I shrugged. “Dallas is still close enough to home to feel familiar, but big enough to intimidate me. And this shop . . .” I gestured to the room. “All of this pretty stuff—it's way outside my norm. We don't get a lot of niceties like this where I come from. It's out of my element.”

“But Loretta Lynn eventually felt at home in Nashville, especially on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry.” Madge gave me a knowing look. “It could happen to you too. Like Nadia said, we'll turn you into a real princess.”

“Yes.” Nadia clasped her hands together at her chest. “You'll be a couture bride in no time.”

I put my hand up in protest. “No thank you. Don't want to fit in. Just call me a misfit and send me back home where I belong. When the dress is finished, I mean.”

“Oh, but like I said, you've got the perfect physique for one
of my gowns,” Nadia said. “And look at that gorgeous face of yours. I love everything about it, right down to the freckles and blonde hair. Between you and the dress, this is going to be the prettiest cover
Texas Bride
has ever seen. I can't wait.”

I sighed, unsure of what to say next.

“Now, you've given me such a lovely idea.” A thoughtful look settled on Nadia's face. “When you mentioned Loretta Lynn, actually. It occurred to me I've never patterned a dress after her.”

“Ooh, perfect choice,” Madge said. “Frilly but simple. Small-town girl goes to the big city.”

“I can see it now.” Nadia dropped her measuring tape and reached for a sketchpad. “What do you think, Katie? Would you like the idea of having a Loretta Lynn–inspired gown?”

“Well, Queenie would sure love it. She's always quoting Loretta Lynn.”

“Queenie?” Nadia, Madge, and Dahlia spoke the word in unison.

“My grandmother. The matriarch of our family. She's nuts about Loretta. She'd be tickled pink.”
Of course, she has
no idea I'm here and no idea I'm
getting a gown at all, but she would be thrilled.
After killing me.
Okay, Queenie wouldn't really kill me—I hoped—but this whole thing would certainly be enough to send her into a tizzy.