Shades of Blue (6 page)

“Ask God for the right man,” her mother had told her. “And don’t ever settle for anything less than that special guy.”

Laura had taken her words to heart. A few weeks later the two of them brought home a copy of
Bride
magazine, and Laura had asked a simple question. “How come all the dresses are white?”

Her mom smiled. “White — for many brides — represents purity. Your promise ring means you’ve made a commitment, honey. To stay pure for your husband, so that one day when you wear a white wedding dress, it’ll mean something very beautiful.”

The memory faded as quickly as it had come. Laura linked arms with her mother. Then she cast a hopeful look to the seamstress. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course.” The slight wisp of a woman hurried to the dress and began removing it from the silk hanger. “You wore the proper underclothing?”

“I did.” Laura swapped a quiet giggle with her mom. They had been up and down Madison Avenue earlier that day looking for the right strapless bra and the perfect wedding attire for beneath the dress. What they’d found was beautiful, a mix of satin and lace, much like the dress.

Laura had put the undergarments on in the dressing room at Rose’s in the Fashion District, the shop where she’d found the bridesmaids’ dresses. Now, with the door to the fitting area closed, she moved to the small stage at the far end of the room, the one surrounded by tall mirrors on three sides, and she slipped off her T-shirt and jeans. At the same time, her mom helped the seamstress, as together they eased the dress carefully over Laura’s head.

“Oh, honey …” her mother stepped back, her eyes soft and wide. Tears welled up despite the smile that stretched across her face.

“You like, Ms. Rita?” The seamstress nodded at Laura’s mother. “A perfect fit, yes?” She tilted her head. “You look like someone famous, Miss Laura. Reese Witherspoon, maybe.”

Laura and her mother both smiled. The seamstress wasn’t the first person to compare her to the blonde actress. “Thank you.” Laura smoothed out the skirt and adjusted it so it settled evenly around her feet.

“I guess I never dreamed …” Her mom stared at her. “It’s perfect, darling. Definitely.”

The dress fit like it was made for her, which after the tailoring, it pretty much was. Laura stared at herself and at the reflection of her mother looking at her from a few feet back, and she knew she would remember this moment as long as she lived. This dress would in some ways represent her entire past and future as they came together in a single day.

Her wedding day.

“You’ve lost weight, a little, yes?” The seamstress furrowed her brow and pinched the satin fabric near Laura’s waist. “We take in another quarter inch?”

Laura laughed. “It’s fine. If I lost anything, I’ll probably gain it back with the craziness in the next six weeks.”

Her mom nodded thoughtfully. “Laura’s right. Let’s leave it. We can always adjust it the week before if we need to.” She pulled a camera from her purse and took photos of Laura, two from the front and a few from each side. “Your father will want to see you. He would’ve been here if he could have.”

“He’ll be home for dinner, right? He and Brad?”

“Right.” Her mother took a final photo. “Six o’clock on the back terrace. Marta’s making her skewered shrimp, steak, and grilled potatoes.”

“That’ll put the weight back on.” She smoothed out her skirt, loving how she felt in the dress, not wanting the fitting to end. “Daddy will love it. Marta too.” The full-time housekeeper and chef had been with them since Laura was eleven years old. The family loved her dearly.

The seamstress helped lift the dress over Laura’s head, and in a few minutes she was dressed again and back outside with her mother. She hadn’t talked to Brad since earlier in the afternoon, but she was looking forward to seeing him. She had no idea how she’d keep the details about her dress quiet.

Again she and her mom linked arms, and with the sun at their backs they walked more slowly down Madison Avenue. “You were a vision in that dress.” They both wore their sunglasses, but her mom’s dreamy expression was still easy to see.

“Remember when I was thirteen?” Laura looked up, her steps slow and thoughtful. “We bought that
Bride
magazine. You and I talked about my promise ring and white wedding dresses, and we looked at every gown in every ad. Remember?”

“I told you one day you’d have a fairy-tale wedding.”

“And I believed you.”

Her mother pulled her a little closer. “I’ve loved being your mom. You’ve given me nothing but joy since the day you were born, Laura. A part of me can’t believe you’re really getting married.”

Laura grinned, and she felt the thrill of love to the center of her soul. “I found my Prince Charming.”

“Yes.” They slowed to a stop and her mom pulled her into a tender embrace, one that didn’t notice the foot traffic and craziness of Madison Avenue. “You definitely found him.”

D
INNER WAS ON THE BACK PATIO
of the house where Laura had grown up, a six-thousand-square-foot estate situated on five acres in West Orange, New Jersey. The place wasn’t far from Essex County Country Club, and only an hour’s commute into Manhattan even at the peak of rush hour.

Laura helped Marta set the table. “I have pictures.” She couldn’t contain the thrill in her voice. “Mom took them at the fitting today.”

“Of the dress?” Marta squealed and then lowered her voice to a whisper. She was in her early fifties, a Polish immigrant with white-gray hair, bright blue eyes, and a vibrant faith. “When can I see them?”

“After dinner.” Laura looked back at the living room where Brad and her father were discussing one of their ad accounts. “Brad can’t know about them.”

Laura’s mother walked up with two platters of skewered shrimp. “The food’s ready. Smells delicious.”

“Thank you.” Marta walked around the table, adjusting linen napkins, making the table look just right. “How much longer for the men?”

“I’ll check.” Laura ran lightly back into the house. “Hey guys … dinner’s ready.”

“Be right there.” Her dad sounded upbeat. Whatever the conversation with Brad, it must’ve gone well. “We’re on our way.”

Outside, the velvet green lawn flowed from the custom wood deck off the back of the estate to the frame of trees surrounding the James’ property. The setting was like something from a movie, and Laura never took it for granted. That God would let them live here, with this life … that He would let her meet Brad — one of her father’s favorite ad executives — and that the two of them were six weeks away from a storybook wedding and a happily-ever-after life together. All of it was more than Laura could believe.

I don’t deserve this, Lord … Thank You. With all my heart, thank You.

The guys joined them and her father hugged her gently around her neck. “So you and your mother did some shopping in the city today?”

“We made final adjustments on the bridesmaids’ dresses,” Laura’s eyes danced as she looked at her mother. “And, well … let’s just say we got a lot done for one day.”

Brad locked eyes with her as he made his way around the table. The chemistry between them was tangible as he touched her cheek. “I missed you,” his whispered voice was meant for her alone. “I can’t wait to be married to you.”

His breath against her face, the way his skin felt against hers, Laura was instantly intoxicated by his nearness. Her parents were distracted by Marta, who was bringing the food out. Laura leaned in closer to Brad. “Six weeks feels like forever.”

Their eyes met again, but whereas Brad would usually make the moment last or maybe reach for her hand, this time he turned his attention back to her parents. “The steak smells amazing.”

Laura studied him for a few seconds, but then joined in the conversation around her. Nothing was wrong. How could it be, when they were in the final stretch of a year of planning for their wedding? She turned her attention to her father and the way he and Brad were chatting. Work could sometimes cause Brad to be quieter than usual, but tonight he was laughing and talking with her dad about the wedding. Everything was fine. They served their plates, and then her father motioned for them to hold hands around the table.

“Lord, these are the times of our lives, and we are grateful with every breath. Thank You for Laura and Brad, for the beautiful love they share and for the way they’ve lived their lives for You. No two young people deserve each other more, Father. For that and for this food, we thank You.”

The evening was warm and the breeze carried with it the smell of freshly mowed grass and the faint sweetness of distant blooming magnolias. Laura waited until the meal was over before she motioned to her mom to distract Brad.

Rita James was as much her best friend as her mother, a vibrant woman with dark blonde hair and an athletic physique from years of tennis and power walking through the neighborhood. She raised her eyebrows and winked at Rita. Then she took hold of Brad’s arm. “I have a catalogue in the car. Tuxedo styles.” She flashed Laura a quick smile as she led Brad away. “Laura had a few ideas about what you’d like, but come take a look.”

As soon as her mom and Brad were out of earshot, Laura took the small camera from her mother’s purse and gathered her father and Marta in a corner of the kitchen.

“What’s this about?” Her dad’s smile hadn’t faded since dinner.

“It’s her dress!” Marta was the first to Laura’s side. “Come on! Hurry!”

“Oh … right. The fitting.” He ambled over, but halfway across the kitchen he stopped. “Actually, I think I’ll wait till the wedding day. Something else to look forward to.”

Laura pictured her dad seeing her dressed as a bride for the first time here, in the house she grew up in. He was right. The surprise could wait. “Good idea.” She showed the photos to Marta.

The housekeeper drew a long, exaggerated breath. “Laura! It’s perfect.” She looked at each picture and then impulsively hugged Laura. “Sweet girl … no bride has ever looked prettier.”

They heard voices on the other side of the garage door, and quickly Laura slipped the camera back into her mother’s purse. Brad entered the kitchen first, a tux catalogue in his arms. He gave Laura a bewildered smile. “They all look the same.”

Her mom was a few feet behind Brad, and her eyes danced at the way they’d tricked him out of the kitchen. She cleared her voice. “I told him you’d help.”

Laura smothered a giggle and then turned a semi-serious expression toward Brad. “How about after our walk?”

“Definitely.” The confusion in his eyes eased. They worked with Marta to clear the table and load the dishwasher, and then they walked down the long winding driveway and onto the path toward the west end of the golf course. It was a walk they’d taken more times than Laura could remember, and with the sun setting she could hardly wait for some alone time with Brad.

They were halfway down the drive when he smiled at her. “The fitting went well?”

“It’s amazing.” She smiled. “I wish you could see it.”

“You’d make any dress beautiful.”

“You showed Marta pictures, right?” His eyes danced as they walked, their pace easy. “The whole get-Brad-in-the-garage ploy.”

“Brad!” She uttered a single shocked laugh. “What … were you standing at the door listening?”

He stopped and moved closer to her, brushing his lips against hers, a kiss defined by the restraint Brad had shown since they started dating. But one that took her breath all the same. “You aren’t good at keeping secrets.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “Not from me, anyway.”

“You can’t see it.” She hugged him close. “But it’s perfect.”

“Like you.”

She smiled and stopped herself from saying more. After a long pause she linked her hand with his. “What about your day? Dad mentioned a new ad campaign.”

“Yes.” A sudden tiredness sounded in Brad’s voice. “Kotton Kids. I’m sort of stuck on this one. Surrounded by baby pictures all day, and still nothing.”

They turned right and headed up a slight hill. “Baby clothes? Is that the campaign?”

“Not any old baby clothes. High-end, organic, produced in an entirely green facility, softest cotton ever. That kind of baby clothes.” Brad slid his free hand through his blond hair and sighed. “But nothing came to me.” He gave her a weary smile. “Just one of those days.”

“It’s weird … how we’ll be talking about baby clothes in a few years.”

She expected Brad to jump in with a statement about how he couldn’t wait, or how wonderful being a father was going to be. Instead he stayed quiet. After a minute or so, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Know what kept coming to me today? When I was supposed to be writing a campaign slogan?”

“What?” They kept walking. The path headed downhill here and leveled off a few blocks ahead.

“How we met.” He ran his thumb along the top of her hand, something he did when he was feeling sentimental. “How I knew in the first hour that there’d never be anyone as right for me.”

“Mmmm.” She pictured them drifting off by themselves at her father’s employee barbecue four years ago. “You told me you were earning your MBA at night. Remember?” She giggled. “You’d been working for my dad for a year and somehow I’d missed you.” His arm felt warm against hers. The sensation was wonderful. “You’re amazing at it, by the way. You could sell baby clothes to a bunch of frat guys.”

“Maybe.” He laughed, but the sound died sooner than usual. “Today was strange.” His pace slowed. “I couldn’t focus.”

She stopped and faced him, her actions more casual than concerned. She took hold of his other hand and let her eyes get lost in his. “Because of the wedding?”

“No.” His answer was quick, his face relaxed. “You and your mom make the details seem easy.”

“She’s been great.” Laura thought about the breadth and scope of pulling together a wedding reception for more than three hundred people. A wedding at the Liberty House in Liberty State Park, no less. The celebration would be covered by the local papers and topped off with a fireworks display at the edge of the Hudson River. Her father had spared no expense, and though they had a wedding planner, her mother had coordinated the photographer and videographer, the catering, and the invitations — which went out a week ago. “I love that she didn’t make a single decision without our input.”