If there was one thing Faye was sure about, it was the dress. She wasn’t convinced about the venue, the astronomical quote for flowers, or her future father-in-law’s request to play the bagpipes at the reception, but the dress she was sure about the dress. She wouldn’t have picked it out seeing it on the hanger, but the shop assistant, Carlotta, insisted she try it on. It had a cream tulle skirt that floated around her like candy floss, and a fitted bodice embroidered with thousands of tiny pearls and sequins. She felt like a princess; it was perfect.
Today, she was showing the dress to her sister. They’d planned to meet outside Blush Bridalin Pimlico at eleven. Last night, her fiancé, Neil, had remarked on the unoriginality of the name, making her laugh with his alternative suggestions: Aisle be there for you and It Will be All White on the Night. The memory of it made her smile. She wondered what Neil would wear to get married in. She couldn’t imagine him spending money on something he would never wear again, and formal attire wasn’t really his style.
Faye didn’t need anyone else’s opinion on the dress; she was not going to change her mind. Clothes, like men, were often a case of when you know, you know, but the pretext of dress shopping provided Faye with a good excuse to see her sister, Cindy, alone. Faye loved her niece, Gracie, but Cindy’s parenting style was exhausting. Cindy followed people on social media who advocated Empath-parenting. This involved a lot speaking in soft voices and sparse use of the word no.
Faye was early. She loitered outside Blush Bridal watching an orange leaf dance in the wind, then her eye was caught by the shop across the street.
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