Page 104 of Blitzing Emily

Emily had no idea what kind of dress she was looking for besides a) white, and b) not too expensive. She knew her parents would offer to pay, but she’d like to buy the dress herself.

Amy was the one who played “wedding” over and over when they were little girls. Emily’s dreams consisted of her standing alone on the great opera stages of the world, a bouquet of red roses in her arms, listening to an enraptured audience applauding her and shouting, “Brava!” as she took yet another curtain call. Lately, though, she found herself daydreaming about seeing Brandon at the end of a church aisle.

Amy would know what to try on. If she could escape the clutches of an enraged police officer, she could advise Emily. A few seconds later, however, Emily realized she had the best advisor of all: Suzanne, former beauty queen and bridal show junkie. Meg and Suzanne whispered back and forth for a minute or so.

“Nicole, why don’t you bring a ball gown to try first? Emily wears elaborate costumes as part of her job, so we’ll need to come up with something more fabulous than anything she’s worn on stage before,” Suzanne said. Meg was nodding. “Let’s skip the mermaid. They’re getting married in a church, so a corset style needs to be somewhat modest. She might like a fit and flare, or maybe an A-line. We can add bling later with accessories if she likes it. The ball gown, though, should be first.”

Amy skidded into the salon and sat down next to Emily on the couch. “We made it. Phew.”

“How much was the ticket?” Emily asked.

“I have to go to traffic school. No ticket.”

“How do youdothis?”

“I might have cried. Let’s find you a dress,” Amy said.

Five minutes later, the champagne had been opened, full glasses handed around, and Emily was sitting in a dressing room bigger than her bedroom at home. Nicole would be “right back” with a selection of dresses, but first up would be the ball gown Suzanne had recommended. Emily knew she should feel some sense of outrage that her mother (and potential mother-in-law) weren’t asking what she wanted. Meg and Suzanne had evidently made up their minds she and Brandon were getting married, no matter what. Obviously, they’d managed to overcome their initial misgivings about Brandon and Emily’s engagement. This probably had something to do with the fact they both had their eyes on the prize: potential grandchildren. She wondered what the term would be to describe a wedding their moms planned without consulting either of them first. Arranged marriages weren’t typical in the Hamilton family, to her knowledge. She wondered if Brandon would be required to give her dad a few goats (or tech stocks) in exchange for her hand.

Truthfully she was more worried about Brandon not really answering her question earlier in his bathroom.

He never actually used the words “Will you marry me?” when they talked about getting married. His insistence that it already happened was a bit odd. She was still wearing a big-ass engagement ring. Everyone else seemed to think this was a done deal. Plus, she had to admit in her heart of hearts that she could think of a lot worse things in life than being Emily Hamilton McKenna for the rest of her life. When she wasn’t musing on Brandon’s behavior (or lack of it), she also wondered if it made her a Bridezilla to want him to get down on one knee and actually pop the question. Other guys did it. Maybe she worried too much, as he said. She twirled the engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand. Was it really so unreasonable for her to want something other women would expect as well?

Her mind was whirling. Nicole seemed to be taking her sweet time, too.

Emily got up from the sumptuously upholstered chair she sat in and wandered out into the store in her dressing gown. Nicole was a few feet from her, rifling through dresses at a high rate of speed.

“Hi,” Emily said.

“Oh! You’re here. I didn’t mean to take so long. I’m still thinking about a couple of these.”

Emily walked over to the rack. Finding a wedding gown couldn’t be that much different than shoe shopping, and she should have some type of professional certification forthat. She flipped as rapidly as possible through the dresses.

“No. No. No. No. God, no.”

To Emily’s surprise, she realized she had more ideas than she thought about how she’d like to look on her wedding day. She didn’t want strapless, she didn’t want crystals, and she didn’t want something that made her look like she’d gone after the skirt with the kitchen shears. She wanted lace. She wanted something that would make Brandon gasp when he saw her in it.

“This one.” She reached up to pull the gown off the rack.

Nicole looked amused. “How about looking through some of the other dresses?”

“Not right now. Let’s try this one on.”

BACK IN THEdressing room, Nicole unzipped the protective plastic slowly.

“We just got this gown in from New York. It’s formal without being stuffy. This is a diva’s dress. I hope you’ll love it.” She demonstrated how Emily should hold her arms in front of her face so she wouldn’t get makeup on the delicate fabric and slid the gown over Emily’s head.

Emily heard the rustle of a silk taffeta ballroom skirt. The bodice was a corset, covered with soft lace, embroidered with pearls. It had cap sleeves and a high neck, a slightly dropped waist, and buttoned up the back. It reminded Emily of the photos she’d seen as a teenager of Princess Grace’s wedding gown, with a modern twist. The skirt had a pickup of fabric on one side. A small train swept the floor behind her. It was dramatic without being over the top, young without being childish.

In the past Emily had heard her various co-workers talking about putting on a wedding gown for the first time. Their descriptions paled in comparison with the reality. She trembled as she regarded the curvy redhead reflected in the mirror. She felt overwhelmed, surprised, a little disbelieving. Her fingertips trailed over the soft lace and the silk taffeta. She couldn’t stop touching it. Even if the sample wasn’t an exact fit, she loved it.

The realization smacked her in the face so hard tears rose in her eyes. She was going to marry Brandon, and she was going to wear this dress when she did.

“We can get your size when we order it,” Nicole reassured. She pulled a small golden headpiece off the table behind her, formed of flat leaves, and extracted a long piece of tulle from another zippered plastic bag. Nicole pinned Emily’s ponytail into a bun, and fastened the headpiece and tulle in her hair.

Emily couldn’t resist twirling around in front of Nicole. “How do I look?”

A broad smile spread over Nicole’s face. “I’m so glad I didn’t bring you a room full of bling and ruffles. This dress was made for you.” She adjusted the headpiece once more and said, “Let’s go show you off.”

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