Page 81 of Threads of Kindness
“I feel so beautiful,” she whispered. “When the wrong dress arrived, I told myself I was being silly—that it didn’t matter, that I’d be fine. But I’ve had a picture of a dress like this tucked in the back of my journal since I was in middle school.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”
Anita took the damp tissue from her. “You’d be a beautiful bride no matter what you wore,” she said. “But I’m thrilled with how this turned out.”
Sunday sniffled. “We better get me out of this dress before I start crying again and ruin it.”
Anita began unbuttoning the long line of covered buttons. “I once sewed the sleeves on a wedding dress backward,” she chuckled.
Sunday stopped sniffling and turned wide eyes to Anita.
“Didn’t discover it until the bride came in for her first fitting.”
“Oh my gosh,” Sunday said. “That must’ve been?—”
“Awful?” Anita finished with a wry smile. “We fixed it easily, but it sure was embarrassing. I checked and double-checked the sleeves on your gown. I’m not makingthatmistake again.”
Sunday continued to sniffle, and Anita handed her another tissue.
“There’s a pocket on the right side,” Anita said as she helped Sunday step out of the dress. “Every weepy bride needs a pocket.”
Sunday laughed. “I’m afraid that’s going to be me. A pocket for tissues will be very helpful.”
“You’re not stuffing a tissue in that pocket,” Anita said, shaking her head. “You need an old-fashioned, lace-trimmed hanky.”
“You’re right,” Sunday said. “I’ll poke around the antique shops this weekend to find one.”
Anita nodded, her eyes twinkling.
Sunday slipped back into her slacks and sweater while Anita carefully positioned the dress on its padded hanger and hung it from the elevated hook on the dressing room wall.
“I’ll steam everything first thing tomorrow and put it in a garment bag. You can pick it up whenever you like,” she said.
Sunday crossed the room and pulled Anita into a tight hug. “Thank you again.” She took a step back. “Josh went to a playoff game with John, Gordon, and the others. I’m on my own for dinner—and I know you are too. Want to join me at Pete’s?” She slipped into her puffer jacket.
A loudpopsounded from the back of the shop.
“What was that?” Sunday asked. “I thought we were the only ones here.”
Anita shrugged. “We better go check before we head to dinner.” She opened the fitting room door.
“It sounded like a champagne cork,” Sunday whispered, following closely behind her.
They walked through the showroom and into the break room. Anita flicked on the overhead light just as a chorus of voices rang out: “Surprise!”
Sunday gasped and brought her hands to her cheeks.
A cluster of smiling women stood along the far wall. Someone had set up two tables—one with trays of finger foods, the other piled high with wrapped gifts. Bouquets of iridescent white balloons bobbed above them, and a shimmering‘Bride to Be’ banner hung from the ceiling. Champagne and sparkling cider chilled in ice buckets on the counter next to rows of flutes. A circle of chairs had been set up in the center of the room.
“You didn’t think we were going to let you get married without a bridal shower, did you?” Susan stepped forward.
“You’re all so busy,” Sunday said. “And we planned our wedding so quickly … I didn’t think anyone would have time.”
“You should know us better than that,” Judy said, hugging her.
“Thank you all for doing this,” Sunday said, her eyes shining.
“We know you’re not a fan of tiaras and sashes or noisy bar nights, so we planned something a little more … you,” Susan said. “Let’s eat and drink first.” She gestured to the food table. “The bride goes first.”
Sunday grabbed a plate and filled it with one of everything.
