The Wedding Dress(16)

“Why can’t you order this gown? I’ve seen it in several shops. Surely you could—”

“Kristin, I don’t order gowns that are in every other shop. I dress brides from the inside out. I’m not a bridal gown mill.” She tapped the photo album. “Do you want to see what’s in here?” Charlotte scooted closer to her client, opened the album on Kristin’s lap, and turned the pages. “Do you see what I see?”

Page after page, the same gown, just a different bride. A blonde, a brunette, young, old, skinny, chubby . . .

Kristin took over turning the pages, the excitement in her countenance fading. “Where’d you get these?”

“The newspaper, websites, all around Birmingham. These are from the last six months.”

“I never realized.” Kristin’s shoulders slumped forward. “Oh my . . . now what am I going to do? I thought I’d found the perfect gown. Just perfect.”

Charlotte gently removed the photo album and closed it, placing it on the floor by the sofa. She intended to wake Kristin up. Not crush her.

“We’re going to find the perfect dress. Trust me. When we attend one wedding at a time, we don’t realize how many of the dresses are exactly alike. But at Malone & Co. our job, our delight, is to find a gown that fits your figure as well as your heart. Kristin, finding gowns for brides that expresses them completely is my one talent in life.” Charlotte tipped her head to see Kristin’s face and laughed softly. “Don’t deny me my one, widdle talent.” Kristin broke into a smile. “Tell you what, if you don’t like the gowns I bring to you, then I’ll personally recommend you to a friend of mine who sells the gown you have here.” She tapped the magazine cutout Kristin brought in with her.

“My mother insisted I talk to you because she said I could do better than this.” Kristin ran her finger over the image of the model wearing her once-perfect gown.

Charlotte sat back, reading Kristin’s countenance. “I understand how you feel about that dress. All your friends looked beautiful in the same style and you want to be beautiful too. But I can find you something unique and beautiful. Will you take the leap with me?”

“I will. Charlotte, I will.” Kristin gripped her arm. “I’m willing to try another dress. Really. Do you think you can find a dress that’s just for me?” Tears collected in the corner of her eyes, but she was smiling. “Just don’t get me on some kind of ugliest bridal gown list.”

Charlotte laughed. “No bride of mine will ever be on an ugly gown list.” As she stood, Kristin snatched up Charlotte’s ring hand.

“You’re engaged too?”

“Yes . . . yes, I am.” Charlotte twisted the ring around her finger. The clear and sparkling diamond created a multicolored swirl of light. The switch of attention to her from Kristin made her want to turtle her emotions. Tuck away and hide.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a ring like it.” Kristin smiled at the smirking Dixie standing by the refreshment bar. “Are you helping her choose her dress?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Charlotte, am I helping you choose your dress?” Dixie folded her arms and let her sarcasm drip.

“This session isn’t about me. It’s about Kristin.” She stooped for the photo album. “The ring belonged to my fiancé’s grandmother.”

Charlotte shot Dixie a hard glare. She’d been fussing at her all week about choosing a gown. Charlotte promised she’d get around to it. She would. Then this morning Dixie showed her the new Bray-Lindsay that just arrived from Paris, and Charlotte nearly buckled. “It’s too expensive, even with my dealer discount,” she said the moment she caught her breath.

At eight thousand dollars the dress better make her feel like Cinderella, Princess Diana, and Kate Middleton all rolled into one. Charlotte had to feel it. Dixie insisted she try the gown on, but she had yet to slip into the handcrafted silk.

How could she explain an eight-thousand-dollar dress to Tim? He nearly froze her out over a thousand-dollar trunk purchase.

“Kristin”—Charlotte locked her gaze on Dixie—“you know, I think we have a gown in the shop that would be perfect for you. It just arrived this morning from Paris.”

“Charlotte?” Dixie’s arms fell to her side and her smirk became a pinched-brow frown.

“Dix, why don’t you prep the Bray-Lindsay of Paris for Kristin and let’s show her what it feels like to be a real princess bride.”

Dixie regarded Charlotte through a narrowed gaze. “It’s quite expensive, Kristin.”

“Price is no problem.” Kristin jumped up, an eagerness in her tone. “My parents will buy whatever I want. I’d love to see this Bray-Lindsay.” She clasped her hands together. “A gown from Paris. Wonderful.”

“All right then, let me get it ready for you. Charlotte, can you give me a hand?” Dixie hooked her hand around Charlotte’s elbow as she headed out the door, dragging her along. “Kristin, there’re refreshments on the bar. Please help yourself.”

“Do I see steam coming out of your ears?” Charlotte asked, tripping along with Dixie as she thudded down the stairs to the reveal salon.

Dixie’s auburn hair was slicked back into a perfect ponytail and her Malone & Co. suit clung to her curves in all the right places. Charlotte could hate her—raw, honest truth—if Dixie wasn’t so smart and sweet. And fun. Dixie Pryor was an amazing friend and an excellent bridal consultant.