The Perfect Dress(2)

“You got one of them curses I can have?” Fanny Lou asked. “I’m mad at Jody’s mama. She whispered in my ear after church last week that I should be dressing to live up to my image. I might be the richest old gal in Celeste, but that don’t mean I have to get all gussied up. My knit pantsuits were good enough fifty years ago, and they do just fine today. Besides, I knocked the mud off my boots on the way in the doors, and God ain’t told me that I have to do anything more. Until He does, Wanda can keep her mouth shut.”

Jody’s chuckle oozed sarcasm. “You’re lucky that’s all she had to say. She’s always bitchin’ to me about something. I’m livin’ in sin or else God is punishing me by making me barren until I marry Lyle properly.”

“Well, if Paula wasn’t so stingy with her curses, we could take care of two birds with one stone,” Fanny Lou said.

“You could throw salt over your shoulder next time you see Wanda. In the Cajun world that means you don’t want her to step foot in your house again,” Paula said.

“I wouldn’t let her in my front door if she knocked, which she won’t because I took up for Jody when she and Lyle moved in together.” Fanny Lou reached for another doughnut. “‘What goes around comes around’ will apply to those men and to Wanda for saying such ugly things. But enough about that. It’s nine o’clock and time to open the front door for business.”

“You’re right, Granny. We’ve got a wedding dress to get ready for a final fitting this afternoon,” Mitzi said.

“And you’ve got an appointment with Ellie Mae to help her design one this morning. So get rid of all that anger.” Fanny Lou sipped her coffee.

“I’ll need an apple fritter to get that done.” Mitzi grabbed the last one in the box.

“Poor Preacher Frank will probably breathe a sigh of relief when he gets her married off.” Fanny Lou lowered her voice. “You know what they say about preachers’ daughters? Well, she flat out passed the test on that one.”

“For real?” Jody asked. “You mean she don’t have a halo up under all that blonde hair?”

Fanny Lou snorted. “Honey, that girl might be an angel, but if she is, it’s because she’s done had the hell screwed out of her.”

Mitzi almost choked on the pastry. “Granny!”

“Truth is truth. You can sugarcoat it or roll it in cow crap, and it don’t change a thing.” Fanny Lou shrugged. “I got to go to the beauty shop and get this mop of hair washed. I ought to get it cut off, but my darlin’ Oscar liked it long. God rest his soul and love his heart.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “And if you’re up there flirting with Henrietta Cooper, I’ll wring your neck when I get there.” She focused on Mitzi. “Y’all got any other news I can take to the beauty shop?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Mitzi said.

Fanny Lou finished off her coffee and carried the cup to the sink. “See y’all later.”

They all three waved as she breezed back out the door. Jody picked up another doughnut and pushed through the swinging doors into the sewing room with Mitzi right behind her. Beyond the kitchen was a huge dining room that now had three sewing machines and a long cutting table taking up the space. The foyer was a sitting room with two plush, pink sofas and lots of pattern and wedding books on the coffee table between them. To the left was the curved staircase. A plus-size mannequin wearing a wedding dress, with the train stretched out to the top step, showed off the partners’ first attempt at designing and making a wedding dress for Paula’s sister, Selena, a couple of years earlier. Before it was over, they’d also made a bridesmaid dress for Paula and an outfit for their mother, Gladys, to wear for the wedding.

What used to be the living room was now lined with shelves holding bolts of lace, satin, silks, and even cotton eyelet. That’s where Mitzi took clients after they’d given her an idea of what kind of dress they wanted for their special day, to do measurements and put together a schedule of fittings. The master bedroom served as their fitting room, with extra air-conditioning power added. Jody and Paula had agreed with Mitzi when she suggested that the dressing room was a top priority. There was nothing worse than a tiny room with no air-conditioning vents for a curvy woman trying to get into and out of clothing.

Mitzi unlocked the front door, straightened the bridal books on the coffee table, and opened a pattern book to the first page of the wedding dresses. At nine fifteen the door swung open, and Ellie Mae Weston hurried inside. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My mother insisted on coming with me, and I had to talk her out of it. I can’t even imagine what kind of dress she’d try to get me into.”

“Have a seat and let’s talk about what you want.” Mitzi pointed to the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. “You said you’d bring pictures.”

Ellie Mae pulled out a folder and laid it on her lap. “I’ve narrowed it down to ten, but I’m tellin’ you up front, I do not want a white dress. I’m a size twenty-two, and I don’t want to look like one of those oversized marshmallows.”

“It’s your day,” Mitzi said in agreement.

“That’s what I told Mama, but she’s afraid of the gossip,” Ellie Mae laughed. “She thinks I’m still a virgin at twenty-five and should wear white and a veil over my face. Good Lord! It’s going to be hot in July. What if a mosquito flew up under there? I’d be battin’ at it instead of sayin’ my vows.”