Page 5 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

The entire concept for my column idea came from helping Mia plan her wedding. I’ve lived in Sarabella my whole life. Who better than me to write about the gems hidden amongst swaying palms and gorgeous beaches?

I’m so lost in my train of thought—and checking my phone to see if my boss, Marty, has texted me yet with an answer—that I don’t notice right away that Mia has changed dresses and walks out wearing a monstrosity that looks more like a cream puff than a dress. Every bit of the gown is covered in satin rosettes, and the skirt is big enough to accommodate a large family of gnomes.

She holds her hands out to her side and gives me a smile I find rather suspicious. “Well, what do you think?” She claps her hands together and does a little bounce on her toes. “I know I said the other one was perfect, but now I think this is the one!”

My BS radar goes off—a required talent I’ve honed as a journalist—but I don’t want to say outright what I think to Mia, in case she’s genuinely serious. She better not bebecause I don’t want to go to jail for murdering a dress that borders on the Disney spectrum.

I rise to my feet and suck in a noisy breath, and then I bring my hands to my chest as if I’m so moved I can’t find the words at first—something I would NEVER do because I’m a journalist. We ALWAYS have something to say.

“Oh my gosh, Mia! You’re right! It’s the one.” I smack my hands to the sides of my legs like a cheerleader. “Please tell me you’re planning to buy it because if you don’t, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Mia’s shoulders drop as she tugs her mouth to the side. “Will I ever be able to pull one over on you?”

I giggle. “Not on your life. Now take that thing off so we can tell Madam Tulard what you need altered on the real one.”

She does this little stomp with her foot—something she’s done as long as I’ve known her. “Fine.” She heads toward the dressing room, then stops to face me just before she pulls the curtain closed. “That other one really is THE dress, isn’t it?”

I grin. “You know it, I know it, and I think the dress knows it too.”

Her turn to giggle. She snaps the curtain shut with a noisy scrape of metal rings on the bar while I check my phone again.

This time, there’s a text from Marty.

MARTY: Whatever you’re doing, stop and get back to the office. I have a new project for you.

All kinds of wonderful shivers travel up and down my back and neck. This is it, isn’t it? It has to be. Marty loved my idea and wants to push forward with it. My very first piece could run by next week. I send a quick reply to let him know I’m on my way.

Mia emerges from the dressing room, wearing the actual dress of her dreams, and steps up onto the platform again right as Madam Tulard floats in. Her wrinkledlips pucker as if she just sucked on a lemon, causing Mia and me to glance at each other in concern.

Madam Tulard’s face breaks into a proud smile. “Yes, that is the dress for you. It was made for you,mon chéri.”

Mia giggles with delight, and I blow out a noisy breath. My work here is done. For now, anyway. Plus, I need to get back to the office.

I hop onto the edge of the platform and lean in to kiss Mia on the cheek. “Just got a text from Marty that he needs to see me ASAP.”

Her eyes widen. “Your proposal?”

I nod in the most exaggerated way I can muster. “Yeah, baby!”

We both squeal and jump up and down.

“Do not rip the dress!” Madam Tulard glares at us, resembling a German sergeant more than the petite French woman she is.

Mia’s cheeks turn pink, but I grin and squeeze her hand. “Can you finish up here without me?”

She waves me away. “Go, go!” She tips her head toward me and whispers, “Just be sure to check on me later and make sure she didn’t eat me, okay?”

I snort. “Of course. And I’ll give you all the deets.”

Madam Tulard’s a parody of disapproval as I hop off the platform. Mia grins and waves as I dash off, already picturing the column header with my byline underneath. I’m about to meet my destiny, and nothing is going to get in my way. Not even a French sour puss who happens to be a world-class wedding gown designer.

This may not be the happily-ever-after I’d hoped for three times, but it’s certainly close enough.

Imake a run from the parking lot but slow my pace once I step inside the Sarabella Herald Tribune offices downtown. Marty said ASAP, but he doesn’t need to see just how hungry I am for this.

Charlene waves to me from the copy desk. I require a few more seconds to catch my breath before I walk into Marty’s office, so I make a detour.

“I didn’t think you were coming in until this afternoon.” A slight frown puckers her mouth. Char and I were hired on around the same time, and became close friends almost immediately. But where I’m in it for a byline, her end game is copy editor because she enjoys telling people what to do.

---