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A sharp January wind sliced across Lola’s cheeks. She carried Max’s carrier as Audrey leafed through her pocket for her car keys, listening for the jangle. Christine appeared behind them, her figure bulbous with the puffy winter coat, something she joked she would never have been caught dead in back in New York City. As they walked through the snow toward Audrey’s car, Christine suggested that she didn’t feel quite like heading home yet.
“All I’ve done all week long is sit on that godforsaken couch,” she explained. “And I swear, if Zach’s still fast asleep on that thing, I might scream.”
Audrey laughed appreciatively, as having a ten-and-a-half-month-old was no picnic, either. “I don’t have to run home just yet. Aunt Kerry’s at the house all morning with Grandpa Wes. Amanda said she’ll be back home later this afternoon for another round of gossip, which I wouldn’t miss for anything.”
“What could we do?” Lola asked, tilting her head. “At fifteen degrees, I’m not sure I’m terribly keen on going for a walk.”
Christine and Audrey caught one another’s eyes and shared a giddy, secretive grin. Lola’s heart performed a backflip.
“What are you two up to?” she demanded.
“Get in, loser,” Audrey instructed Lola, pressing her finger against her fob key to unlock the car door. “To quote the timeless classic, Mean Girls, We’re going shopping.’”
Christine headed back to her car to collect the baby carrier and soon returned back to latch it safely in the rear, on the other side of Max. Both Max and Mia continued to sleep deeply. Occasionally, Max’s eyes rushed back and forth behind his eyelids as though he hunted for something or someone in a dream world. Christine sat in the middle of both baby carriers while Lola buckled herself up front.
“I hate it,” Christine moaned as she glanced down toward her stomach. “When I have Mia on my chest, I can pretend this lumpy belly isn’t attached to me. But when I sit...”
“There it is,” Audrey affirmed as she turned the key and roared the engine. “I remember that well.”
“Your baby bump went away in two seconds flat,” Christine said.
Audrey shivered. “I agree I was young, yes, but I’m also not sure your body ever fully goes back to normal after carrying a child for almost ten months and then giving birth.”
Christine dropped her head back on the car seat as Audrey eased them through the slightly-icy parking lot outside the Sunrise Cove. Already, Sam was out with a large bag of salt, helping one of the Sunrise Cove’s maintenance workers to de-ice the parking lot. The temperature dropped quickly, dangerously, transitioning the soft snow to something far more sinister.
Just as Lola’s mind began to drift toward Tommy and her fears surrounding his life out on the water, she received a text message with a selfie of him, all bundled up on the top deck of the freight. Snow whipped around him, white and fluffy, and his eyes gleamed beautifully, proof of his joy.
TOMMY: It’s looking like I’ll be working this job for the next couple of months.
TOMMY: I can’t say I can complain.
TOMMY: Although it’s true what Joshua said, that I’ve lost my head. Normally I’m drinking a fruity alcoholic drink on some beach for all of January. Ah well.
TOMMY: Love you, Lola. I’ll see you later today.
“Look at this crazy man,” Lola said as she flashed the photograph toward her daughter at a stoplight. “I guess I’ll be married to him soon.”
To Lola’s immense surprise, Audrey drove them directly to the Edgartown wedding dress shop. It featured a wide selection of gorgeous and detailed vintage dresses, beautiful newly-crafted dresses from fresh and local designers, and several bohemian looks that suited Lola’s hungry eyes.
“You know that I’ve never tried on a wedding dress,” Lola whispered, mystified at the experience as Audrey parked in the front row of the lot, which was more-or-less abandoned. “Let alone pictured myself in one.”
“I know that,” Audrey replied, her smile widening. “But it’s looking like you’re going to need one. And there’s no time like the present, is there?”
Once inside, the woman at the front desk, dressed in a cream-colored power suit, introduced herself as Sara and greeted them warmly. She instructed them on where to place their baby carriers, where both Max and Mia remained in a deep sleep, and then discussed Lola’s particular “vision” for her approaching “big day.” The entire performance felt surreal. Lola shivered as she lifted her thumb and first finger to the glossy white fabric of a dress that had been hand-sewn in the year 1944. How many beautiful women, on the precipice of the rest of their lives, had worn this very dress?
One by one, Sara, Audrey, and Christine collected dresses for Lola. At the same time, Lola hung back, overwhelmed with the splendorous gowns and the possibility of looking like a fool in front of all of her and Tommy’s families and friends. Tommy wasn’t exactly a man of flourishes and frills. Perhaps he’d take one look at her and run the other way. She’d witnessed Amanda’s fiancé dart from the altar and literally, take on new life halfway around the world. The story was enough to terrify any woman in the dark of night.
“Come on, Mom. Just try on one or two?” Audrey begged.
“Ugh, fine,” Lola replied, her heart skipping a beat. She made her way into the dressing room and selected an A-line bohemian number, eggshell white, with tiny buttons that went all the way up the back. She removed her skirt and turtleneck and then stepped delicately into the gown, then dragged the little sleeves up over her shoulders. As it wasn’t yet fitted to her frame, it looked like she’d donned a fluffy cloud.
As she scrutinized her appearance in the mirror, the bell over the front door jangled as new guests entered. Lola froze, petrified. The last thing she wanted was for people outside of her family circle to see her looking like some kind of crazy wedding-obsessed princess.
“Hello!” the new guests greeted Sara. “We have an appointment?”
“Wonderful. You must be Penelope, Greta, and Margorie,” Sara returned brightly.
“Penelope’s the bride,” a middle-aged woman explained.
“What’s the date?” Sara asked.
“July 9,” Penelope replied, her voice a nervous whisper.
“Oh, good. We have some time, then,” Sara said. “I’ve already set aside a few dresses based on your particular interests. Right this way.”
Suddenly, the curtain between Lola and the big wide world erupted open. Audrey stood, vibrant and mischievous, her eyes swallowing the image of her mother whole. Lola’s throat constricted with shame.
“Audrey!”
“Mom! You look amazing.”
“Audrey, seriously?” Lola reached for the curtain to tug it back, but before she could, the three newcomers eyed her and beamed joyously.
The older women were both in their forties or early fifties, while Penelope looked to be mid-to-late twenties. After they introduced themselves, it was revealed that Greta, unfortunately, walked with crutches and had her left foot lifted, encased in a boot. Margorie appeared to be her sister, as the two were nearly identical.
“Look at you!” Greta cried warmly.
Lola’s blush crept along her neck and cheeks. “I don’t know. I feel a bit foolish.”
“Why?” Penelope demanded. Probably, with her peach skin and her beautiful figure and her youth, she’d never felt this foolish in her life.
“She was never supposed to be the marrying kind,” Christine explained. “She’s coming to terms with it.”
Greta crept forward on her crutches, smiling. “I didn’t marry Penelope’s father until I was thirty-five,” she explained. “We always said marriage wasn’t for us. Just a show thing. But Penelope told us how important it was to her that we become a real family.”
Lola nodded warmly, grateful for the beauty of other people’s very real and intimate stories. “My daughter’s father took off, thank goodness. He left me with a baby and a whole, unknown future ahead of me.”
Greta laughed good-naturedly. “And now you’re here. Must feel like a whirlwind.”
“It does,” Lola replied as she took an unconscious step out of the dressing room and then eyed herself in the large three-paneled mirror. The result wasn’t perfection; in fact, it was far from a vision. Even still, there was a particular kind of magic in witnessing yourself in a wedding dress for the first time, even at forty years old. Lola’s breath caught in her throat.
“Come on,” Penelope all-but ordered her. “Let’s try on more together. We can give each other moral support.”
Bit by bit, Lola’s feelings of silliness ebbed away, leaving only laughter, funny conversation with the rest of the women in the wedding dress shop, and a beautiful expectation for the weeks ahead. Not a single dress was perfect, not that snow-filled morning. But perhaps soon, her eyes would dance across the perfect shade, the ideal style. Perhaps soon, she’d be the ideal bride.
“Gosh, I need to readjust,” Greta said as she shifted on the cushioned chair in the dressing room area. “This boot is a nightmare. I haven’t gotten used to it yet.”
Christine began to undo Lola’s back buttons as Lola asked, “Is this a new injury?”
“Yes, only a week ago,” Greta affirmed, the color fading from her cheeks. “I slipped on the ice. You’d have thought me, a born and bred Vineyard-girl, would have known better, but nope!”
“It was terrifying,” Margorie informed them. “I was right there when it happened and I honestly felt so helpless.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Lola returned.
“It’s a really messed up a lot this year,” Greta continued. “Especially because I was supposed to direct the community theater production of Annie this year. Auditions were slated to begin in just a few days, but instead, I had to email everyone that we’re calling it off.”
“You couldn’t find anyone else to direct?” Christine asked.
Greta shook her head. “It’s so much work and takes a lot of time, so if you have a full-time job, it’s not likely you can take it on. Besides, the people who are already invested in community-theater want to be on stage, performing, not behind the scenes. It’s the only ego boost for Martha’s Vineyard thespians we have.”
“I didn’t even know there was a community theater scene on the Vineyard,” Audrey piped up, looking around at the ladies.
“Oh yes,” Greta replied, her eyes glowing. “Last year, we put on Jesus Christ Superstar and goodness, it was a thrill. I still wake up singing some of those songs. The cast was particularly talented that year. Devastatingly, one of our most passionate actors in the community theater passed away just a few days after our final performance. Nobody knew it would be his last musical— it tears me up inside, thinking about his dear wife, Cora. The two of them performed in twenty-five different community theater productions over the years, often as the two main leads.”
Lola’s heart felt squeezed with dread. A strange voice in the back of her head reminded her of the permanence of marriage— that ultimately, “till death do us part” had a terrifying ending. What did it mean to be left alone in life when your love abandoned you for whatever came next?
“Mom, remember when we did all those community theater productions back in Boston?” Audrey started, twirling on her front toe.
“What?” Christine gasped. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh yes. Mom killed it,” Audrey continued. “Remember when you played Eliza in My Fair Lady? You practiced that accent for ages. You must remember it.”
Lola’s brain cut through the memories as her tongue lifted to perform a cockney accent. “All I want is ‘enry ‘iggins ‘ead.”
Greta’s jaw dropped as laughter flourished through the wedding dress shop.
“You didn’t forget!” Audrey cried. “All you did was say nonsense words for months.”
“What did you even say?” Christine demanded.
“All I want is Henry Higgins head,” Lola replied with a shrug. “It was hard to get the H back after the performance, since I had to drop it for the role.”
“I was always some little girl or another in these productions,” Audrey explained. “Always sitting with a coloring book, watching Mom absolutely tear through whatever song and dance number she had next. I kind of forget why we stopped doing them?”
Lola shrugged. “My career picked up in my late twenties. I couldn’t squeeze in rehearsals anymore.”
Greta nodded as her eyes widened. “Do you miss it?”
“To be honest, I haven’t thought about it very much,” Lola told her. “Not until now.”
With her buttons undone, Lola returned to the dressing room to grab her ordinary street clothes and transition back into her real self. Outside the dressing room, Greta and Margorie whispered mysteriously and Penelope spoke to Sara about the importance of finding the correct drop-waist for the length of her torso. When Lola returned to position the last wedding dress on the rack, she curiously found Greta peering at her.
Lola tilted her head and asked, “That look is dangerous, isn’t it?”
Greta chuckled. “Not unless you want it to be. My sister and I were talking about you. About your background in theater.”
“Uh oh,” Lola said.
“How is your workload these days?” Greta asked.
Lola’s eyes shifted toward Audrey, who leaped up and down with excitement. “You got me into this,” Lola told Audrey pointedly. “You know better than to bring up my theatrical past!”
“Mom...” Audrey howled. “What if you love it? Isn’t this the year of trying new things? Pushing boundaries?”
“I’m already getting married, Audrey,” Lola pointed out. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Why not do everything at once?” Greta added, her grin widening. “Plus, I’d love nothing more than to email the community theater troupe and let them know that I found a stand-in director.”
Lola groaned to herself while shaking her head. “What’s the schedule like?”
“The performances are set for February 24, 25, and 26,” Greta explained. “We’ve had the auditorium space booked for a year. It would be a shame to waste it.”
“And didn’t you say you and Tommy want your wedding around that time, as well?” Christine asked.
Lola’s smile curled toward her ears. Hope and expectation beamed out from Greta and Margorie’s eyes. With Tommy off on his freight liner over the next few months and Lola’s journalism stories no more than ten hours per week, Lola felt herself actually considering this huge time-suck as a viable option.
“Please, Mom! I’ll help you when I have time,” Audrey pleaded, clasping her fingers together. “I’ll even rope Amanda in.”
“I’m sure she’ll be pleased that you’ve added her to the equation without asking her,” Lola teased.
“All Amanda ever does is sing when no one’s around,” Audrey replied. “She’s obsessed with musical theater. It’s annoying, frankly. I need to give her an outlet.”
“And again, I can’t even translate to you how pleased the people of the community theater troupe would be...” Greta said softly.
“Giving back to your community? The beauty of musical theater? The power of directing for the first time?” Audrey recited these points, ticking them off across her fingers. “I don’t see any downsides, Mom.”
Lola groaned inwardly, dropped her head back, then heard herself say, “Oh gosh. Fine. Fine. I’ll do it.” She then made eye contact with Audrey, who beamed from ear to ear. “But you and your pal Amanda had better pull your weight. This is a family affair, now.”
Audrey saluted her, standing pin-straight like a soldier. “We live to serve you, Director Sheridan. Whatever you say, goes.”