Page 15 of Dreaming of You

Kate raised her gaze from the catering bid she'd been studying. "That he's obnoxious, arrogant and rude?"

"That he's gorgeous—tall, handsome, and sexy...especially in a tuxedo."

"He was wearing a tuxedo?"

"He's going to the Winter Ball. I've always wanted to go to that."

She wasn't surprised that Barrett had made the guest list. He was definitely in that league. "Barrett might look nice on the outside, but he is not nice on the inside."

"He was actually pretty friendly."

"You talked to him?" She felt a little betrayed.

"I wanted to introduce myself. And don't look at me like I just crossed into enemy territory. We don't want to be at war with our landlord."

She frowned, knowing Shari made a good point. "What did he tell you to rip down now? If he goes after my swan photo, I swear—"

"I already told him that's your red line." Shari perched on the arm of the chair in front of her desk. "His office is very modern and sophisticated. I can't believe the renovations were done so quickly."

"Apparently, money makes things move faster. I'm sure it's nice, but it doesn't sound like it fits this historic old house."

"Not exactly," Shari admitted. "But it's personal taste. Anyway, I'm going to run some checks down to the bank, and then I'll head home. You just have Jennifer, right?"

"Yes. She wants to bring her wedding dress by to show me how impossible it's going to be for her to wear it."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"It belonged to her deceased mother, who was a Southern belle, and the dress is meant to be worn over a hoop skirt."

"But Jennifer is twenty-one and not really the hoop-skirt type."

"Yes, but her father wants Jennifer to wear it, saying it would mean so much to her mother, and Jennifer is very conflicted. I suggested she just wear it for the ceremony and then change into a contemporary gown for the reception."

"That seems reasonable."

"I hope she goes for it. I think she'll feel bad if she doesn't wear it."

Shari stood up as the bell attached to their office door rang. "That must be her. Good luck."

"Thanks." She set aside the information she'd been studying on next week's wedding, so she could take on Jennifer's problem, which appeared to be much bigger than she'd anticipated.

Jennifer, a willowy brunette, who always looked like she needed to eat, was practically crying as she entered the office with a big garment bag over her arm. "It's awful," Jennifer said. "I can't even walk in it, and I have to go down a long flight of stairs."

"What if your father walks you down the stairs, instead of meeting you at the bottom?" she suggested, as she got to her feet. The only thing besides the dress that Mr. Phillips had insisted on was that his daughter be married in his home, which unfortunately boasted a long and winding staircase.

"He said he wants me to have a moment. He thinks it will be beautiful and dramatic. It's the way my mother did it. I want to make him happy. I want to honor my mom, but I don't want to fall on my face in this not very pretty dress." Jennifer gave her a look filled with pain and guilt. She wanted to honor her mother, but she also wanted her own day. It was a difficult situation.

"It can't be that bad. Let's take a look." She unzipped the bag and pulled out the dress and the petticoat hoop. "The dress looks pretty," she said, trying not to look aghast at the enormous amount of fabric that would completely swamp Jennifer's thin frame.

"I could maybe wear the dress, but the hoop—no way. I tried putting it on and walking, and I took one step and tripped."

"Maybe you just need to practice a bit." She pulled the lacy hoop skirt on over her jeans and was surprised by the volume. She could see why it had put Jennifer off. It was one thing to look at it from afar than to look down at it. She couldn't even see her feet.

"It's awful," Jennifer said.

"Maybe not. Let's try this on the stairs." She glanced at the clock on her wall. It was after five and Shari had said that Barrett was on his way out.

"If you want to. But don't blame me if you break your neck."

---