The Wedding Dress(17)

“Enough steam to curl your hair.” In the salon Dixie flung open the storage closet doors and took the Bray-Lindsay from the rack. “This was your dress, Char. We ordered it for you.”

“You ordered it for me. I never said I wanted it. It’s perfect for Kristin. Think about it, Dix—the gown is too frilly for me.”

“Too frilly? You said the Maggie Sottero was too plain. The Bray is the perfect blend of simple and intricate.” Dixie carefully prepped the dress to be draped over the dress form on the gleaming, dark-wood center platform. Sofas and lounge chairs circled the mini stage.

“The blend is perfect for Kristin. Really, Dix, how can you doubt me after five years of watching from the shadow of my genius?” Charlotte laughed, easing down to the nearest sofa, watching Dixie work. The silky, luxurious fabric of the gown cascaded over the dress form. The skirt swished and swirled toward the stage floor, a pure milky river. The scene made Charlotte’s heart palpitate. But her joy faded when Dix didn’t even crack a smile.

“Want to know what surprises me?”

“If I say no, will you tell me anyway?”

“What surprises me is that you’re getting married in two months, you haven’t selected a dress or tuxes, and you’re acting as if that’s normal.”

“Oh, speaking of, Tim said he’d be by one day this week with Dave to pick out tuxes. How’s that for normal?”

“One day this week? Really? That’s the third time he’s promised to be by ‘this week.’ It’s already Wednesday afternoon. He’d better hurry it up if he plans to make it this time.”

Charlotte shifted her magic photo album from one arm to the next. “If you have something to say, go for it.”

Dixie billowed the skirt as if to inflate her lungs with boldness. Then she stepped around to Charlotte. “You two just don’t act like a couple getting married.”

“Is there a book, a guideline on how to act? I’d like to read it so I know.”

Dixie cut Charlotte a sharp glance and moved to the riser steps. “Please dim the lights for me, will you?” she said, adjusting the gown’s bodice and sleeves.

“Dixie, come on, you know ordering clothes doesn’t prove a couple’s devotion.” Charlotte stepped back to the lighting panel and maneuvered the middle switches. The perimeter lights dimmed as the tracks along the center of the ceiling lit up. A glittery light showered down on the gown and dripped off the thick hem, creating sparkling pools on the polished platform that spilled over onto the plush, burgundy carpet.

The salon was a wedding gown fairyland.

Charlotte had seen this room in a dream. For over a year she considered it an impossible dream until the anonymous check dropped into her account.

Once she knew the gift was legit, she wasted not one moment getting the room designed and built.

The reveal salon was the focus of the Southern Weddings article. But with such a magnificent salon, the rest of the shop needed an upgrade. Bye-bye to what remained of the hundred-thousand-dollar gift. Charlotte gutted and remodeled the upstairs, broke down walls, discovered river-rock fireplaces under 1920s plaster, and uncovered thirsty cherry hardwood beneath the worn, matted carpet.

One unmerited gift and her whole world changed.

“Forget I said anything.” Dixie stepped off the riser, angling back, taking in the lighted gown. “You’d better have Kristin call her mom and whoever else she wants with her when she tries this on.” Dixie billowed the train again so it fell like a snowy waterfall over the platform. “She won’t want to be alone when she discovers this is the one.”

“I love you for being so honest with me, Dix.” Charlotte smiled and started for the door. “And that you agree this is the dress for Kristin.”

“It just burns me to no end that you’re always right. How do you know?” Dixie huffed, hands on her hips.

“It’s in my gut, my spirit, I guess. I just know.” Charlotte paused in the doorway. “I think God speaks to me when I’m working, helping the brides.” The confession reverberated in her chest, then sank through her, awakening a sublime peace.

“Then ask Him to speak to you about your own dress,” Dixie said, walking around the mini stage, an assessing expression on her angular face.

“Dix, I’ll know it when I find my dress. I will.”

“Are you even looking? You have two months . . .”

“I promise, I’ll look this month. Every day, okay? Now, play Michael Bublé’s ‘Stardust.’ Kristin seems like a ‘Stardust’ kind of girl.”

“Already had it queued in my mind.” Dixie walked to the back of the salon for the stereo remote. “Great minds and all that, you know?”

“You’re a good friend, Dixie.”

“I want you to be happy, Char.” The strains of “Stardust” drifted down from the mounted speakers. The track lights were programmed to dance and twinkle with the music’s rhythm. The Swarovski crystals on the gown’s intricate lace bodice caught and fanned out the dripping light. “If any girl in the world deserves happiness and love, it’s you.”

The melody of Dixie’s heart in her confession drew emotion from Charlotte. “I know you do and I have a lot of things that make me happy, a lot of things I love. But right now, I want to sell that Bray-Lindsay to Kristin and make her happy. That will be the joy of my day.”