Page 52 of Love and Other Trials
“She didn’t mean to?—”
“It was downright irresponsible of her to gain this kind of weight before the wedding.” Mother patted Ariel’s hair as if trying to make it more presentable. “She admitted she’s stress eating again and hiding it.”
Ariel knew she couldn’t refute that. Tiffany had started those habits as a teenager when Mother’s body-shaming had kicked in. “Let’s hope Paula can help.”
“God help us if Terry and Tricia have gotten a little chunky too—unlike you.” Mother stroked her cheek before heading to the doorway, heels clicking on the hardwood. “Finish your calls as quick as you can, dear.”
Dear.
Suddenly, she was the favorite daughter. All because her mother approved of her weight. Ironic. As a young girl, her mother used to find fault with how bony her knees looked in a dress. When her breasts had come in, Mother had despaired of them not being big enough. A B-cup wasn’t enough to entice a man, to her mother’s mind. Then there was her lack of hips. She was still rail thin.
Mother had finally given up, only bringing out a suggestion for a butt or breast enhancement every couple of years around the holidays. Something she would pay for, of course. Because Mother believed in putting her money where it was needed when it came to her daughters’ looks. They were supposed to be her pride and joy, after all.
Ariel had always failed there. Until today. Too little, too late.
She let herself out onto the porch, her heart heavy. She needed to vent.
Jeffrey! I can’t wait for you to get here. Tiffany can’t fit into her dress, and it’s a MESS. I’m contemplating throwing myself in the ocean or running into the marsh and letting a gator get me. Because you know what that means for my house…
Best Brother Ever
SHE CAN’T FIT INTO HER DRESS? OMG! The curse is hitting hard. Hang in there. I’ll be there soon. Cling on to Captain Hotpants like he’s a safety float. Anything to survive. We will get you that house! So don’t let that gator get you. I love you too much for you to die from Deverell drama.
LOL. It’s worse than that. Mother thinks I’m the best because she approves of my weight. For once. It kinda broke my heart. You know?
Best Brother Ever
Ah, sweetie pie. That’s awful. What a bitch. She insisted on a wig and now she’s being nice? That’s the Stormy I remember. Stand tall. You know who you are, and who you are is perfect. I’m coming. God, I need to think about what to do to fight this curse. Ariel, girl, we’re going to get you granny’s house if we have to boil frog’s eyes or something.
Yuck. But appreciated. I love you.
She clutched the phone to her heart. Right. That was her goal. But God, right now it seemed like there’d be a lot of collateral damage. She closed her eyes and took a couple of cleansing breaths, reminding herself she could get through this. She’d gotten through every other family disaster. She’d survived not finding victims in the wreckage in time.
But by God, old wounds could still bleed. She’d thought she was beyond the desire for parental approval, but the look her mom had given her while patting her cheek had affected her. There had been love there.
Yeah, it was fucked-up love, because she should be loved for who she was. But she couldn’t deny she still felt the love and also the pull for more of it.
She almost laughed at herself. Not in this family.
Heading inside, she found everyone in the fitting area. Tiffany was crying uncontrollably now, makeup smeared beyond repair. Mother had her hands crossed stiffly over her chest, purse clutched tightly to her side. Paula was fussing with the one-inch gap in the back where the dress wouldn’t zip.
“What’s the verdict?” she hesitantly asked.
Mother turned to her, her brow line not moving when she gave her a disgruntled look. “Paula can rip out the zipper and fashion something like a bustier.”
“With strings!” Tiffany’s voice held an unnatural pitch, grating to the ear.
“I can sew in a matching piece of fabric, or as close as possible, and then use the strings for a closure,” Paula added calmly like she was used to bridal meltdowns, never taking her gaze off the back of the dress. “It’s not going to be an exact match, but it will handle the issue. On short notice.”
Tiffany was blubbering something fierce, and the dress was in imminent danger of getting snot on it.
Ariel spotted a box of tissues. After she gave a few to her sister, Tiffany blew her nose as loudly as a goose—not her usual ladylike puff—and handed the used one to Ariel.
God, what was she? A kindergarten teacher? Still, she took the tissue and tossed it in the wastebasket.
“Ariel, what do you think?” Tiffany grabbed her arm, eyes wild, breath shallow. “Will the corset strings will make me look like a slut? Because I don’t want anyone looking at me like that on my wedding day. I had that the first time around. This time was supposed to be different.”
Ariel sighed and gave in to the urge to comfort her sister. Tiffany had married Marshall’s dad after she got pregnant, and a few of the Deverell relations had commented on her showing at the wedding. Ariel hadn’t been surprised by their cruelty, but she’d wanted to push them into the punch bowl.
