Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(51)

She had the copper dress she’d worn to the fall dance. Not a happy memory. God forbid she wear a dress her grandmother deemed inappropriate. Best to ask for help. “What type of gown are we talking about?”

“We should go shopping together.” Lillith announced like it was a fabulous idea.

If the woman weren’t with child, Bryn would’ve kicked her.

“I agree.” Bryn’s grandmother tilted her head and studied Lillith. “Are you feeling well enough to go shopping after lunch, or do you require rest?”

“I’m fine.” Lillith turned to Bryn. “I know you planned to Christmas shop with your knight. Perhaps you can reschedule?”

Noooooo. She wanted to spend time with Valmont. Now it appeared she’d have to spend the day with her grandmother and Lillith.

“I’m sure your friend will understand.” From the set of her grandmother’s jaw, saying no wasn’t an option.

Bryn pushed her chair back from the table. “Why don’t I go chat with him right now?” She headed for the kitchen door and waited for Valmont to appear. He finished taking an order at a table across the room and then headed her way.

“In need of a rescue?” he asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think it would help my relationship with my grandmother. She wants to go shopping after lunch. Could I meet you later?”

“Sure.” He reached over and brushed a crumb off her chin. “Why don’t you come back after you finish shopping?”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Part understanding. Part fear. Your grandmother is one scary woman.”





Chapter Twenty


After lunch, Bryn followed her grandmother, Lillith, and a mutinous Jaxon to a small dress store off the main street.

“I didn’t know there were stores back here,” Bryn said.

“It’s not a store, it’s a boutique.” Rather than reach for the door handle, her grandmother pressed what looked like a doorbell. The saleswoman glanced up from the cash register when she heard the bell and flew across the room to unlock the doors.

“Mrs. Sinclair, how lovely to see you.” Jaxon and his mother walked in. “And the Westgates—it’s always a pleasure when you stop by. What can I help you with today?”

With all that sucking up, the woman must work on commission.

“I need a Christmas gown for my granddaughter.”

The saleswoman glanced at the door, like she was searching for another person. Bryn cleared her throat, and the woman put the puzzle pieces together. “Sorry, I expected someone more…”

“Blond?” Bryn said with a grin.

“Yes.” She swallowed and seemed to regain her composure. “Come with me. I’m sure we have something perfect for you.”

Right.

The woman whisked her off to a dressing room and then returned with a dozen dresses. Wait. Not dresses. They were gowns…actual ball gowns made of what she knew had to be real silk. Every single one had ruffles or sequins or lace. The bodices were stiff and the skirts were floor length.

None of them looked like something her grandmother might wear. Was this a test?

“Excuse me, I need to ask my grandmother a question.” She stuck her head out of the dressing room. “Do the gowns have to be so…frilly?”

“Frilly?” Her grandmother frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The dresses are age appropriate,” the saleslady said.

“I’m sure these dresses would be lovely for someone else. I’d prefer something without ruffles, or lace, or sequins.” She looked at her grandmother. “Unless you disagree. I’ve never been to a ball before, so maybe I don’t understand what’s expected.”

Her grandmother shot the saleslady a look that would’ve reduced a small child to tears. “Remove those gowns from the dressing room and find Bryn a strapless silk sheath dress in a dignified color.”

“Of course. My mistake.” The saleslady scurried off to do as her grandmother asked. When she was out of hearing range, Bryn said, “One of the dresses had ruffles and lace and sequins. I think there might have been some feathers mixed in as well.” She shuddered. “It was awful.”

“Was it lavender?” Lillith asked.

Bryn nodded.

“That dress has been here forever. I think they’ve been trying to pawn it off on some poor girl for the last twenty years.”

The saleslady returned with a handful of dresses. Tight-lipped, she hung them in the dressing room and then retreated to the cash register.

Bryn examined her choices. This was more like it.

There was an emerald sleeveless gown that resembled something an actress might wear on the red carpet. Could she pull it off? Only one way to find out. Stripping out of her clothes, Bryn slid into the whisper soft silk. She checked the three-way mirror and did a small happy dance. The dress fit like a glove. The knee-length slit allowed her to walk without shuffling her feet.

She stepped out of the dressing room. “What do you think?”

Lillith clapped her hands together. “It’s lovely.”

Head tilted to the side, her grandmother scanned Bryn from head to toe. “Turn around.”

Ignoring the resentment she felt at being ordered around like a puppy, Bryn did as her grandmother asked. When she completed the rotation she expected to find her grandmother nodding in approval. This was not the case.