JOSIE SET HER hands on her hips and stepped back to study Adriana in the first of the prototype gowns. Adriana had piled her dark hair into an intricate updo, then added a single red rose from the dozen Ryan had sent her that morning for no particular reason. Other than he was a man in love.
Ryan adored Adriana openly and honestly, as if Adriana gave his world meaning. Josie might’ve envied the woman if she was looking for someone to share her life with, which she wasn’t. Despite the moment she’d collected last night with Theo.
Small branches of baby’s breath burst from Adriana’s hair like tiny clouds. Her upswept hair complemented the illusion sleeves on the Helen-inspired dress and the fitted shape exposed her elegant figure.
“It’s impeccably crafted.” Adriana twisted to take in the plunging back of the gown. “Well-constructed. Lovely.”
Josie lifted her gaze to Adriana’s face, pursed her lips and arrived at one conclusion: a garbage bag would look fashionable on Adriana Taylor. It was the woman’s gift. In this instance though, more of a curse, at least for Josie. She was proud of her work and considered the gown lovely herself. Adriana was so striking, however, the gown became super flattering and beautiful on her. Hovering above nice.
Josie followed Adriana into the dressing room and helped her out of the dress. There was still the Jin-inspired gown. Still a chance for Josie to get it right.
“I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position with my brother.” Adriana slid her arms into the silk robe left for clients and faced Josie. “I’m sorry I forced you into stretching the truth.”
Josie had given Theo the full truth last night at the Silver Monarch Hotel. Shared parts of her past she hadn’t told anyone. As if the gingerbread town was a safe zone. Theo her protector. That was only her heart confusing the past and the present. Mimi had been her support. Now the only safe zone was inside herself. As for her heart, she had to stop listening to its whispered lies.
Josie gathered the gown to drape it back over the body form. Her curiosity was harder to gather. “Why do they call you a bridezilla?”
“I suppose I can be,” Adriana confessed. She rearranged several branches of baby’s breath in her hair and met Josie’s gaze in the mirror. “But the truth is… My brother is the impossible one.”
He hadn’t been impossible last evening. He’d been thoughtful and considerate. Her teacup had gone dry yet he’d stayed beside her. He’d drawn one gingerbread house after another, making her believe he’d have stayed there all night if she’d asked, as if content to let her end the moment on her terms. In her own time. As if he’d known she’d needed exactly that. Josie hugged the gown to her chest to muffle the sigh in her heart.
“The papers have it wrong about us.” Adriana fiddled with the silk sash on the robe.
“Why don’t you correct them?” Josie asked.
“Theo always looked out for me growing up.” Adriana smiled. “I want to do the same now. For him.”
Loyalty—such a rare gift. And Theo and Adriana shared it. She slipped outside, lifted the gown from the body form and left her envy on the floor. Find your own blessings, Josie, even if you have to search harder than others.
Theo would laugh at the fortune-cookie adage. Tell Josie to go out and make her own.
“Theo was the one who turned away all those designer dresses.” Adriana lifted her foot to step into the Jin-inspired dress. “One after another. Claiming that none were special enough for me.”
That, Josie imagined, was what a big brother should do—watch over his sister. Care about her. Like he’d watched over Josie last night. Except he hadn’t looked at Josie like a sister. Josie concentrated on buttoning the dress and sealing away her own reaction to Theo. Besides, what did her damaged heart know about loyalty and lasting love? She knew she wanted…
Josie yanked open the velvet curtains of the dressing room. Scanned the consignment gowns, the accessory wall, Mia’s photographs. All she wanted was right there in front of her: her business. And success for herself and her friend. There was too much pain in wishing for anything more.
Adriana stepped outside the dressing room and onto the riser. “None of the designs worked until the Linden Topher gown.”
“You have a wedding dress from Linden Topher?” Josie tripped on the platform step. Her chest clenched like a bodice cinched tight enough to crack a rib.
Linden Topher was an A-league fashion designer. Josie wasn’t even qualified for the minors. She adjusted the skirt of the gown—the satin fabric suddenly felt more like a school craft project. A nice, valiant effort against one of the premier designers in the industry. Cinderella after the clock struck twelve.
“The Linden Topher is not the dress now.” Adriana’s hands curled at her waist. She shook her head. The motion wasn’t enough to hide the tremor in her words.
Josie clipped the cape-style veil on Adriana. Fluffed the ends to drape as she wanted and slowed her words to conceal her own dread and sudden curiosity. “What happened?”
“Another bride.” The crisp tone in Adriana’s voice only emphasized the sadness in her gaze.
“Surely that was an exclusive gown for you.” Exclusives were exclusives for a reason. There were unspoken rules. Linden Topher understood those rules—he had to.
“It’s complicated.” Adriana brushed her fingers over her eyebrows, as if clearing away the conversation and any lingering distress. “It doesn’t matter now. Thanks to Mia, Theo found you.”
Every pin Josie placed in the fabric of the Jin-inspired gown jabbed a tiny hole of uncertainty inside her. How was she supposed to compete with Linden Topher?
He’d trained in Paris and Milan. She’d practiced on Mimi’s front porch. He owned a design houses in Paris and New York. His designs walked the runway at New York Fashion Week. Josie walked four blocks to her little boutique. Her custom designs hung in her apartment closet.
Josie set the last pin on the hem and stepped back. The fitted gown accentuated Adriana’s graceful stature. The cape draped over her shoulders, flowing perfectly around her.
“It’s simply stunning.” Adriana’s fingers strayed to the white feathers trimming the edges of the veil. “It’s exactly like the drawing.”
But the drawing had more animation than Adriana’s voice. The sketched figure had more connection to the hand-drawn gown than Adriana.
“The details are exquisite.” Adriana’s fingers stilled on the feathers. Her voice was quiet, yet there was nothing tranquil in her tone. “But it’s…”
“Not Linden Topher,” Josie said, finishing for her, her shoulders sagging. Josie wanted to take the dress off Adriana, run to her apartment and stuff it into the closet beside the others.
“No. But you don’t want to imitate him.” Adriana met Josie’s gaze in the mirror. “I want…”
So did Josie. She wanted Adriana to wear one of her dresses and glow from the inside like Shanna. She wanted Adriana’s love for her fiancé to shine and sparkle through the dress, just as it radiated from her face whenever she spoke his name. That was the magic—the feeling Adriana searched for and couldn’t describe.
Josie worked the gown off Adriana. She never lit from the inside in the second gown. Stunning wasn’t enough. Neither was well-crafted. Theo would dislike them if his sister failed to shine. And she hadn’t. Josie draped the second gown over a body form, her mind racing on changes and alterations to make it worthy of Adriana. To make Adriana glow from the inside out. “I have work to do.”
Adriana clasped her hands together, excitement swirling around her. “Can I try on Grandmother’s dress now?”
Josie was out of options. And unable to deny the bead of anticipation inside her. Josie rolled the body forms away from the platform and retrieved Grandma Pearl’s gown from the workroom. In minutes, Josie fastened the last self-covered button on the bodice. She fluffed the skirt, letting the train fall over the platform.
“It’s something of a lace mess, isn’t it?” Adriana touched one of the taffeta rosettes at her waist.
“It’s vintage and was the height of fashion when your grandmother married.” More than a dozen rosettes settled into the many tiers of lace ruffles on the sides and back of the dress. Easily removed. The floral pattern in the white lace could be stunning if edited. Josie worked her gaze over the gown, ideas churning through her. Some she discarded, some she held onto.
“It fits as if it was tailored for me.” The wonder in Adriana’s voice tugged Josie’s focus away from the gown and back to the woman.
“Your mother was correct.” Josie studied Adriana’s face. Was that a flicker of a glow? “You and your grandmother were built very much alike.”
Adriana touched the lace reverently. “That’s lovely to know. I always wanted to be like her—kind and free with her hugs. I was quite young when she passed and yet I lost a piece of something inside me after she was gone.”
Josie rubbed her chest in solidarity over lost beloved maternal figures.
“I never considered myself sentimental until I put on her dress.” Adriana wiped at her eyes. Love, however, strengthened her wobbly smile. “You’re going to talk me out of wearing her dress, aren’t you?”
In its current state: yes. But not the gown Josie envisioned this one becoming. “Your brother thinks you should be in an original, exclusive dress.”
Although Josie wanted to change his mind. Wanted him to see that sometimes the past wasn’t something to shun. But she was a divorced foster kid with a past better ignored. Why would he believe her?
“My brother is paying for the entire wedding.” Adriana touched the scalloped neckline. “I shouldn’t complain.”
“He wants the best for you,” Josie said. And he expected the best from Josie. But the two custom gowns she’d come up with lacked that spark. Adriana looked stoic and too composed in those gowns. But she smiled and cried in her modified grandmother’s dress—she connected to that one. Josie could imagine Adriana walking down the aisle in her grandmother’s dress. But Josie’s gut instinct and her imagination wouldn’t pay the rent or the electric bill or fix the leaking faucet in the restroom.
“Can I have a moment?” Adriana asked.
“Take all the time you need.” Josie stepped off the platform and walked toward her workroom, ready to sketch her ideas in her design book. “You’re my last client for the day.”
Ten minutes later, Josie looked up from her sketchbook to find Adriana in the workroom doorway, still wearing her grandmother’s gown.
Adriana’s eyes were rimmed in red. Her cheeks dappled. “I need help with the buttons so I can take it off.”
Josie pulled several tissues from a box on her worktable and pressed them into Adriana’s hand. “What’s your favorite part of the gown?”
“All of it.” Adriana wiped her eyes. A small laugh burst free. “And none of it.”
Josie nodded and kept her alteration ideas to herself. This wasn’t the gown Theo wanted or the one he wanted to pay for. Josie helped Adriana out of the dress, carried it back to her workroom and secured it inside the garment bag.
Adriana returned and picked up Josie’s design book. “This is Grandma Pearl’s dress. Only it isn’t.”
“That’s nothing.” Josie zipped the garment bag closed. “Just scribbles.”
“You need to show this to Theo,” Adriana urged her.
Josie shook her head. He’d recognize Grandma Pearl’s gown. Even though she’d assured him he wouldn’t know where the old finished and the new began.
“You could convince him that Grandma Pearl’s gown is the one.” Hope and confidence merged into her upbeat tone.
“What makes you think that?” Josie closed her design book.
“You convinced Theo to go to the gingerbread display last night.” Adriana followed her into the storefront.
“That was nothing.” Nothing. Josie straightened the prototype gowns on the body forms and rolled them to the side of the platform. “He was being nice and offered to give me a ride.”
“My brother isn’t nice.” Adriana picked up her jacket and purse from the couch. “He’s charitable. Benevolent. Protective. But not really nice.”
Josie stepped behind her checkout counter and laughed. “Then why did he offer me a ride home?”
Adriana leaned her elbows on the counter and grinned at Josie. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Maybe he likes you.”
Josie’s heart bounced. She opened her mouth, ready to tell her heart to stand down and set Adriana straight.
Adriana patted her hands on the countertop like a drum roll. The sound suspended Josie’s words.
“Hear me out,” Adriana implored her. “This is good. If he likes you, he’ll listen to you. He’ll believe you when you tell him about our grandmother’s dress.”
“You should talk to him,” Josie suggested. “Tell him how you feel.” As for Josie, she had nothing to tell him except to thank him. Thank you for giving me the chance to design a wedding gown. Thank you for urging me to focus on the best parts of her gingerbread memory. Thank you for holding my hand.
Adriana ran her palms over the counter. “I wish it was that simple.”
“It is. He’s your brother,” Josie said. “He wants the best for you.”
“Are you certain you won’t talk to him instead?” Adriana’s eyebrows lifted in a plea.
“Only if you speak to him first.” Josie locked her cash-register drawer.
Adriana pushed away from the counter and eyed Josie. “Are you busy now?”
It was one hour until the official end of the afternoon and start of her Saturday evening. Alterations waited in the workroom. Final details needed to be added to the costumes for the children’s program. And two prototypes waited to be transformed into something spectacular. “I have work I should complete.”
“Could you spare an hour?” Adriana asked.
“What do you have in mind?”
“A quick visit to the chapel and the reception venue.” Adriana buttoned her coat. “If you saw the settings, then you could tell me if my grandmother’s dress is wrong or not for the event.”
The only wrong in a wedding gown came from within the bride herself. But Adriana’s request, earnest and genuine, nudged Josie. Adriana wanted her opinion and her insight. Josie wanted to help her. “Let me finish locking up.”
“Are you up for a walk?” Adriana opened the front door.
“It’s my first time out of the boutique today—I’d prefer the walk.” Josie locked the door, dropped her keys in her bag and matched Adriana’s pace.
Four blocks into their walk, Adriana stopped at a busy corner and scowled. “That cannot be her. Not there.”
Josie searched the busy intersection, scanning for whomever riled Adriana. “What happened?”
“My mother happened.” Adriana marched across the intersection and swung right at the corner, anger stiffening her movements.
Josie finally located Lilian Rose, standing beneath the wide awning of Bouquets by Baylee Flower Shop, surrounded by a variety of Christmas plants and seasonal floral arrangements. Lilian Rose was in front of the poinsettia table, her face tilted toward the bright yellow and pink potted flowers, her mouth moving as if she was whispering advice to the plants.
Josie stood next to Adriana, who’d stopped within listening distance yet never interrupted her mother.
Lilian Rose finished her one-sided conversation about dull-versus-daring dating choices.
Adriana stepped forward and tapped her mother’s shoulder. “Mother, why are you talking to a table of flowers about preferring a gentleman who is more daring and makes bold choices like champagne roses and an artichoke stalk in the same arrangement?”
Lilian Rose brushed her fingers into her hair, as if Adriana’s voice had startled the upswept strands loose. “Why are you and Josie… It’s Josie, isn’t it?” The accusation in her voice matched the cunning narrowing of her eyes. “Why are you two together?”
Adriana ran her fingertip over a pale pink poinsettia petal. “Josie and I are working on a special project.”
Lilian Rose’s eyebrows dipped, her gaze sharpened into shrewdness. “Is Theo aware of this special project?”
“It was his idea.” Adriana leaned around her mother and lifted her arm in a half-hearted wave. “Who is that gentleman with his nose buried in a handkerchief rushing down the sidewalk? He keeps glancing back here.”
Josie shifted and winced. The man in question slammed a white handkerchief against his face as his whole body jerked. Onlookers moved to the outer edge of the sidewalk to pass around him. Another sneeze seized the poor man.
“That’s Samuel. It’s not going to work between us.” Lilian Rose linked her arm with Josie’s and adjusted her stance until Josie faced the poinsettia table. “Remember, Josie, not every date is going to be perfect. Matchmaking takes time and patience.”
Josie scanned the sidewalk on the other side of the thin table, certain Lilian Rose wanted to position herself for the best vantage point. Except the foot traffic was quite light for early Saturday evening. And Lilian Rose never acknowledged any sidewalk shoppers. Once again, she spoke to the potted plants. Josie scooted to the left, but Lilian Rose tugged her back the other way, anchoring Josie against her side.
Finally, Josie discovered the cell phone—propped up, with the screen lit up—tucked in between two bright yellow poinsettias. A red record button flashed on the bottom of the screen.
Adriana leaned her hip against the table and considered her mother. “Did you make your date cry?”
Josie blinked at Adriana. She’d said “cry” as if her mother always made people cry, the same way a balloon artist always made kids smile. As if it was not only normal, but also expected from Lilian Rose. Adriana shared her mother’s outer elegance. Yet there was a defiance in the slant of Adriana’s head and the way her arms crossed over her chest.
“Indirectly.” Lilian Rose’s tone was matter-of-fact, not apologetic or remorseful. She touched a pine branch of a miniature potted tree nestled among the flowers. She addressed the table of potted plants and her concealed phone, rather than her daughter. “It’s always best to know flaws early in any relationship. After all, are you willing to give up the beauty and calmness of live flowers inside your house for the rest of your life?”
Josie wasn’t certain allergies could be considered a flaw. She peeked at the cell phone, wondering if Lilian Rose’s viewers agreed. That was assuming she had viewers. Otherwise why was she recording herself at a flower shop, of all places?
“Did he ask you to give up flowers for the rest of your life?” Adriana pulled away from the table. A weariness saturated her words. “You refused and upset him.”
“We never ventured much past first names.” Lilian Rose smoothed a hair behind her ear and twisted away from Adriana to face the flower table. “I would think severe allergies should be listed on each candidate’s application. Leaving out pertinent information could be a sign of future deceit. Something to keep in mind, Josie.”
Theo had boundaries, had she breeched them? Had Theo left out pertinent information? Josie leaned back out of the camera’s recording area. “Maybe he wanted to share more of that kind of information with you in person.”
“I joined a matchmaking service precisely to avoid such a thing. I want those details known to move the relationship along quickly.” Lilian Rose ignored Josie’s comment as if Josie’s words carried no more weight than the pollen from spring daisies. “Had it been listed on Samuel’s résumé, I’d not have wasted the past few hours getting ready.”
Josie watched Lilian Rose speak to her phone, her voice casual, friendly and informative, like Josie’s favorite sewing vlogger. She glanced at Adriana. Her fingers tapped an irritated beat against her folded arms. The corners of her mouth pulled down, stopping shy of a full scowl. Lilian Rose’s indifference to her daughter’s presence no doubt frustrated Adriana. Yet Josie sensed from the way Adriana pulled herself inward from her shoulders to waist that her frustration with her mother ran deeper than video recordings.
Suspicion sliced through Adriana’s tone. “Why did you pick my florist for a first date?”
Tension descended like a thick curtain on a Broadway stage. Adriana straightened her shoulders. This was not the quaint family gathering Josie assumed the Taylors always experienced. Both women seemed to be circling around each other, withholding from each other. It wasn’t the mother-daughter relationship she’d expected.
“I chose to meet Samuel here. It’s a perfectly suitable place. Public and open.” Lilian Rose never flinched beneath her expertly applied makeup. “Now that you’re here, we can discuss the flowers you’ve chosen for your wedding.” She turned and leaned toward the poinsettias and her phone. “This is called pivoting in the moment to make the most of your situation. It’s also important to know when to pivot to take advantage of an opportunity. More on that later.”
Josie examined the cell phone, propped at the perfect angle for maximum coverage. She’d helped Mia enough on photo shoots to recognize the correct placement for optimal lightning and ideal selfies. Now Lilian Rose had imparted another life lesson in less than ten minutes. She was definitely speaking to an audience. Definitely recording for more than her own vanity.
“The flower arrangements have already been chosen, Mother.” Adriana adjusted her purse on her shoulder and glanced down the sidewalk. “Josie and I were heading to Rustic Grill.”
Josie blinked. Rustic Grill hadn’t been their destination. Josie would learn nothing about Adriana’s wedding venues at a bar and grill. Unless Adriana booked an after-hours private room to continue the celebration after the formal reception. That hardly seemed like Adriana’s style, let alone Theo’s.
“But I haven’t seen your floral choices.” Lilian Rose pivoted, added one quick glance and smirk at her cell phone. “And the wait time at Rustic Grill can be unbearable at this hour on Saturday evening. What’s a few minutes’ delay?”
A woman wearing a snowman-print apron and name tag that read Baylee stepped out of the floral shop and greeted Adriana. “I thought that was you. The Casablanca lilies that you called about last week came in earlier than I expected. I’d love to show them to you.”
“That’s perfect timing.” Lilian Rose snatched her phone from the table and opened the floral-shop door. “Shall we?”
The florist walked inside, answering Lilian Rose’s question about the lilies’ scent.
Adriana moved beside Josie and whispered, “Remember that other bride I mentioned?”
Josie nodded.
“It’s my mother,” Adriana whispered, her tone brittle.
That was complicated. Josie rubbed her forehead, as if that would sort the truth into something she could understand. What happened to the mother-daughter duo she’d seen in the photographs? Josie pointed at the entrance to the floral shop. “Wasn’t Lilian Rose just on a first date?”
“She’s not exactly doing things in order.” Adriana’s cheeks had reddened. “Would you mind joining us? I could use a buffer.”
The Taylor family wasn’t so perfect, after all. Josie was oddly fascinated, not that she should be. Yet for Josie, this brought the Taylors into the approachable, ordinary category. This brought the Taylors into a category Josie could relate to. Made Theo’s world not so different from her own. She held open the door for Adriana.
Lilian Rose sniffed a bouquet of red roses and asked Baylee, “Would it be a problem to double the order of white roses?”
Adriana lifted her hands and shook her head. “I don’t need that many roses.”
Her mother seemed taken aback. “What am I supposed to put on my tables?”
“You don’t have tables.” Adriana’s face hardened into impassiveness. A harshness scuffed her low-pitched voice. “Or a reception venue.”
“I will soon,” her mother assured her. “And I’ll need flowers, too.”
“You can’t choose the same flowers.” There was nothing flexible about Adriana, from her low voice to her rigid posture.
“Why not?” Lilian Rose cradled an arrangement of winter blooms as if she’d just made the finals in a beauty pageant. “Copying is the highest form of flattery. Not to mention I’ve always adored white roses and Casablanca lilies.”
“Pick something else to like,” Adriana challenged.
“Perhaps you should change your choices.” Lilian Rose stuck the roses back into the bucket of water and spun around holding a miniature pine tree. “Pine branches and eucalyptus could be quite nice together.” Lilian Rose waved to Baylee and asked for sample.
Josie wanted to ask for a cease-and-desist between mother and daughter.
“I already chose my bouquet and centerpieces. There’s no need for changes.” Adriana returned the volley with another swift hit. “Besides, I’ve always disliked eucalyptus.”
Josie disliked family discord. Ariana should be enjoying planning her wedding, not competing with her mother to be “first one down the aisle.” Josie typed a text to Theo: You need to come to Bouquets by Baylee now.
His reply came swiftly:In a meeting.
Josie glared at her phone and typed: Leave.
No.
“You need to open yourself to change and not be so uncompromising.” Lilian Rose handed Adriana a branch of eucalyptus. “Otherwise you’ll stop growing. And no one wants that.”
Adriana paced away from her mother, then spun around. “You’re not getting married, Mother.”
“I intend to.” Lilian Rose snapped a leaf off the branch.
“Why?” Adriana asked.
“It’s past time.” Lilian Rose frowned at the flower arrangement. “You and your brother don’t need me. You’re all grown up now.”
“We never needed you.” Adriana fired a verbal shot with the skill of a pro. “You made sure of that.”
Lilian Rose blanched.
That couldn’t be good. It was also never good to order someone around. Still, Josie continued texting. Yes. Now. Otherwise your mother and sister might start a bridal war in the floral shop right now.
What?
Now she had his full attention. Josie typed: Your mother wants the same flowers as your sister.
On my way. Keep them separated.
Lilian Rose recovered and swiped clear lip gloss over her lips, sealing that first crack in her polished veneer. She looked at Josie, her voice imploring Josie to take her side. “It’s not as if Adriana chose unique flowers. Pinecones, holly berries and lilies are hardly rare and uncommon. They’re the staple vanilla choice of every winter bride from here to the Midwest.”
Josie retreated, dodging Lilian Rose’s unkind words.
“My choices are not bland or ordinary.” Adriana’s voice eased, her expression brightened. “Ryan and I chose our flowers together as a couple. That’s what real couples do. Real couples make the big decisions together.”
“Real couples are also strong enough individuals that trust their partner will make the best decision for them both.”
Adriana curled her fingers around a glass globe filled with petite stemmed roses and baby’s breath. “You aren’t suggesting that Ryan and I aren’t a real couple, are you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Lilian Rose’s smile barely moved her cheeks. “Just as you wouldn’t dream of being so cruel as to tell your own mother that she was never needed.”
Adriana lifted her arm with the glass vase. Josie intercepted, eased the vase from her grip and guided Adriana across the small space.
This was not the Taylor family depicted online or in the Coast to Coast Living brand. Josie searched for a way to defuse the situation. Was there ever a dispute-resolution section in the Coast to Coast Living magazine? If she left the floral shop intact and undamaged, she was going to insist Coast to Coast Living’s advice columnist do a year-long series on dysfunctional family dynamics.
In the meantime, Josie sought a distraction.