Season of Sisters (35 page)

Maggie snorted. "It's all downhill from there."

Grace pretended not to hear. "The gown the bride wears represents her femininity, her sexual allure, her maternal might. It's her aspirations, wishes, and desires. It's hopes and dreams and a place for memories to cling."

"Oh, stop it," Maggie said. "You're going to make me cry and that's not why I've come here." She pulled a classically styled skirt and jacket in ivory silk from the rack. "Here. Let's start with this, shall we? Grace has at least thirty dresses to try. Maybe more. This will take some time. Speaking of time, did y'all get in on that debate between the bride and her mother about planning the wedding around the football game?"

"No. I missed that," Holly said.

"Apparently the couple plans to marry in the fall and the bride's father is a huge Notre Dame fan. He's afraid a two p.m. wedding will interfere with kick-off, and he's threatening to pull his financial support if they won't schedule events around the game."

"Jeeze Louise," muttered Holly. "I'm a big college football fan, but that's going way too far for me."

The mood in the dressing room lightened after that. The women joked and made small talk as Grace worked her way through the suits. She found two that she liked and she set those aside. A third had definite possibilities, but the zipper was stuck. Grace glanced up. Charlene sat by the doorway mending the hem of a lovely designer gown that had been donated earlier that morning. Holly stood beside the rack of gowns, her expression thoughtful as she gently fingered the lace. Maggie was touching up her lipstick. "Maggie, would you help me with this, please?"

"I'd be happy to, sugar."

It took some thread picking and bottom wiggling, but the zipper finally slid upward. It was then that Grace decided to send up a test balloon. "Holly, would you please do me a favor now?"

"Sure thing." She flashed a perky smile. "What can I do?"

"I want you to try on Maggie's dress."

Holly froze. "What?"

"I want you to see what it looks like on you."

"But... I can't... I don't..."

Maggie's head snapped up. "Of course you can. Trying on a dress is no commitment to anything. Honest. I want to see how my dress looks on you, too."

Holly eyed the nothing of a veil Maggie had yet to remove and grinned. "Okay, but only if you play dress-up too."

"It's a deal." Flashing a grin, Maggie headed for the dressing room door. "I know just where I'm going to start, too."

Maggie made a beeline for the sales floor and returned moments later with a dress Grace had noticed back in Fort Worth. She pilfered through the small mountain of slips, then exclaimed, "Ah hah! Here it is."

"A hoop skirt, Maggie?"

"I'm a Southern belle. I've wanted to wear one of these ever since I was ten years old and on vacation and we toured an antebellum home in Vicksburg, Mississippi."

In a flash, she stripped off her clothes.

"I didn't realize Southern belles wore thong underwear," Holly observed.

"I made the switch just recently, but I think I'm going to like it. Seems like my panties always ended up there anyway, so I thought why fight it? Zip me?"

"Turn around." Holly grabbed hold of the zipper and gave it a tug. "Suck it in, Scarlett. This may not be a sixteen-inch waist, but it's not too far from it."

It was a painstaking process, but she finally managed to get the gown zipped. When she was done and stepped away, Grace said, "Oh, Maggie. Aren't you beautiful. Scarlett O'Hara has nothing on you. You are a true magnolia of the South."

"Fiddle-dee-dee. You are so kind, Mrs. Hardeman." Maggie waved an imaginary fan.

"She's a pink magnolia," Holly observed wryly. "We better get her out of that dress before she faints from oxygen deprivation."

"Fiddle-dee-dee," Maggie repeated. "I'll have you know pink magnolias don't faint... but I might burst into bloom if you don't hurry with that zipper."

Having finished her mending, Charlene used a small pair of scissors to snip a thread, then stood. "There's another hoop skirt gown out there in a larger size. Do you want to try that one?"

"Oh, I do," Maggie enthused. "That would be fun. First, though, it's Holly's turn. Get nekid, girl. I want to see you in my dress."

"It won't fit me," Holly complained as she tugged off her Pink Sisterhood volunteer tee shirt. "I'm a good three inches shorter than Maggie."

"Three?" Maggie eyed her up and down with a measuring look. "Uh uh. More like five. But being short won't be a problem here. It's no big deal to cut it down."

" 'Short?'"

A mulish light entered Holly's eyes and Grace hastened to intercede. "Of course, since we're just playing dress-up, it doesn't matter if the dress fits or not."

The bickering continued while Maggie helped Holly into the dress. It was only when she'd been buttoned, snapped, and zipped and turned to face the mirror that conversation in the dressing room died.

"Oh, Holly," Maggie said, her eyes going wide.

Grace steepled her hands over her mouth. "It's perfect for you."

Silently, Holly stared at her reflection. Her eyes grew glassy with tears.

"Buy it," Maggie whispered, a rasp in her voice.

Holly sucked in two deep breaths. "I can't."

Grace watched her young friend and felt her heart twist. "Sure you can, darling. You're a magnolia, too, you know."

"A Southern belle?" she asked with a laugh. "I hardly think so."

"I know so. Not a wimpy Southern belle, though, and just as strong, just as pink, as our own Maggie Scarlett."

"Wait a minute. This dress isn't too tight?"

" 'As God is my witness..."' Maggie quoted
Gone With the Wind
as she reached for a carrot stick. "Sugar."

"Work with me here, Holly." Grace fluffed the wedding gown's train. "You live in an established part of town. Do you have many magnolia trees in your neighborhood?"

"Yes, we have quite a few, actually."

"How many have pink blooms?"

"Hmm... only one I can think of. It's in Mr. Crankpot's backyard. He's very proud of it."

"As well he should be. It's the same in my neighborhood. White magnolias outnumber pink magnolias twenty to one. They're just as soft and fragrant as their cream-colored counterparts, but their color sets them apart from the crowd. Pink magnolias are special. Pink magnolias have strength. They have character."

"Hah. If I'm a pink magnolia, then I'm afraid I have root rot."

"Poppycock. Your roots are just fine. Still a little shallow, perhaps, but you're a young sprout. I like this metaphor, Grace. I have only one problem with it. If Holly and I qualify, then you do, too. It seems only fitting. Remember the subject of the painting in the ladies' room back at the Greystone where we first met? Pink magnolias. I think it's a sign. We'll have our own special club, just the three of us. For now, anyway. We can be the founding members of the Pink Magnolias."

"Sounds a lot more interesting than Junior League," Grace observed.

Maggie nodded. "I could buy us our own clubhouse in Fort Worth and we could host Pink Sisterhood wedding gown sales there. We'll decorate the building in accents of pink. Pink is the breast cancer color, so it's symbolic in that respect, also. We wouldn't want to make everything pink, of course. I don't know a single man who is at ease standing on a cotton candy-colored carpet, and we want men to be comfortable in the Pink Magnolia Club, too."

"Jeeze Louise. Stop. The Pink Magnolia Club? It sounds like a cocktail lounge. Quick, somebody call the paramedics. I think oxygen deprivation ruined Maggie's mind."

"All right. Be that way. Just remember one thing for me, would you?"

"What's that?"

"I know my horticulture, sugar. Magnolias are considered to be long-life-span trees."

Chapter 15

The women took a break
from the dressing room when the cleaning crew arrived to vacuum and dust. When they returned and Maggie took a good look at the rack of reserved dresses Grace had yet to try, she began to get a bit worried. She'd been so certain Grace would find her dream dress here, but she'd already worked her way through half of them and so far, nothing was perfect. The anniversary party was only six weeks away. What if none of these gowns worked? This entire trip would have been a great waste of time.

Well, except for the fact that Charlene had needed their help. They'd done a good job today. Maybe they should consider today's volunteer work the first official act of the Pink Magnolias. That way, if Grace didn't find her dress, Maggie wouldn't feel like such a failure. Yeah. And maybe cats would bark, too. From deep within her, a truth welled up and burst from her mouth without warning. "I've got to fix myself, girls, or I won't deserve to be a Pink Magnolia."

Grace's and Holly's heads swiveled in unison and they stared at her in shock. "What?" Holly asked.

"I think I've gone a little bit crazy the past few weeks. If I don't do something to help myself, next thing you know I'll be renting dates off the Home Shopping Network."

"Do they do that?" Grace asked.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. That's not the point." She paused, licked her lips, then added, "I seem to be out of control."

Holly's brows rose in alarm. "Maggie, you haven't gone to bed with any of those guys you've been seeing."

"No. It's not that. I don't want to do that. Not now, anyway. Who knows, though, it might be next. I could turn into a slut."

"We'd have to kick you out of the club in that case," Holly drawled.

"I don't deserve to be in the club now. I'm not a strong woman. What strong woman orders a dozen jeweled dog collars when she doesn't even own a pet?" She paused, pursed her lips. "I wonder how ol' George is doing. Maybe he could use a new collar. Although what I ordered is probably too prissy for a boxer dog."

Holly hung up the dress she had selected for Grace to try next. "Why the sudden streak of insecurity, Maggie? This isn't like you."

"Grace hasn't found a dress yet."

Holly simply stared at her. Bewilderment furrowed her brow. "I'm starting to worry about you."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. I'm worried about me, too." She dropped her gaze, noticed the rings on her left hand. She wondered where Mike was at this very moment. Who he was with. What he was thinking. Had he thought of her at all? Did he miss her at all? "I never did decide what to do about my wedding rings. They haven't seemed to bother the fellas I've dated."

"Which tells you something about the fellas," Holly observed.

Maggie couldn't argue with that. "Maybe it's time I stopped wearing them."

Grace and Holly shared a significant look. Grace asked, "What feels right to you?"

"I don't know. What would I do with them?"

Holly shrugged. "A teacher I work with removed the diamond and melted down the gold and had a pendant made."

"I wouldn't like that. Talk about having your ex hanging around your neck all the time." She shuddered.

"Honey, are you all right? We don't need to do this anymore. Maybe we should go on back to the hotel now. We can start again tomorrow."

"Do you feel bad, Grace?"

"I'm fine. I thought maybe you..."

"I'm fine, too. Just being silly. Pay me no mind. Must be hormones. That's what Mike always said when I got a little goofy. Here, let me help you with this next dress."

Grace had finally worked her way through to the floor-length gowns. Maggie could tell her friend didn't expect to find the perfect dress in this bunch, but then, she didn't know how appropriate a more traditional wedding gown would be.

Grace stepped into a slim-skirted Italian silk, and Maggie tugged the zipper up. The overhead light reflected off the facets in her wedding ring, causing the diamonds to sparkle. "Diamonds and dreams," she murmured. "You know, girls, a woman's wedding ring is just as symbolic as a woman's wedding dress. Maybe more. A gown may symbolize feminine power, but the ring... ah... the ring represents her dreams. Maybe dreams are the most powerful force of all."

She stepped away from Grace to find both her friends looking at her with wonder. "That's a profound thought, Maggie," Holly said.

"Don't say that like you're surprised." Maggie grinned, then sobered as she studied the two-carat stone set in platinum. "So what do I do with my rings now that my dreams are dust?"

"Don't do anything until you're divorced, for one thing," Holly said. "Don't give away your rings like you gave away your gown."

Maggie shrugged. "Maybe Charlene would have a use for them. She could resell them and use the money for wishes just like she does the gowns."

Grace gasped.

Holly gaped. "You're brilliant. That's a great idea."

"You think so?"

"I do," Charlene said from the dressing room doorway, excitement shimmering in her voice. "I think it's a super idea. Oh, my. Think of the money we could raise for Pink Sisterhood. It's a perfect supplement to our wedding gown sales."

"I can see a few problems with it," Maggie said. "Security troubles, primarily. You couldn't sell them like you do the gowns. You'd be begging to be robbed. No, you'd need a different system, but I'm sure you could devise something that would work. You'll need an appraiser on board, of course. However, I don't think you'll have trouble collecting rings. I know I'd much rather give you my wedding set than hide it in my panty drawer."