Kathy had kept Monday morning free of bridal appointments to give Meghan and Tara time to build the old-world display in the most visible front corner while the drywall team finished the tuxedo-area changing rooms. Donna met with the caterer to lock in the appetizer trays for the kickoff party. Two former brides who loved Elena offered to play hostess for the evening, circulating with trays of food so the staff could talk with prospective partners unencumbered.

While most of the staff decided that semiformal dresses from home worked fine, Kathy rented her own medieval-style costume for the gala.

“You look like one of Sleeping Beauty’s fairy godmothers.” Maisy rolled her eyes at the pink empire-waist gown and cone hat. “You can’t be serious.”

“I rarely am,” Kathy quipped. She fluttered her bell sleeves. “And who would have thought they’d have this in my size? Obviously fairies aren’t as tiny as most folks think.” She grinned as she paraded through the front of the store. “Folks’ll see me coming.”

“You can say that again,” Liz muttered, but then she grabbed Kathy’s shoulders. “Elena would think it’s a great idea because it lightens the moment, so thank you for that. But now get in the back and let me mark the skirt so I can tape a hem. Can’t have you tripping into some hotel bigwig we’re trying to impress.”

Greg came in to check the tuxedo corner’s progress just before closing. He whistled lightly and high-fived Kathy. “Ready for painting on Wednesday. Perfect.”

“And we’ve double-checked everything,” Kathy assured him. “We’re good to go.”

“I appreciate it.” His gaze flicked to Tara as she moved toward the front of the store.

She gave him a “friends only” smile as she logged out of the second computer. “This has been a whirlwind few weeks. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun, or been this tired before.”

“You’ve all gone the distance,” Greg noted. He motioned to the new displays and the half-empty mothers’ area, ready for an influx of prom gowns due to arrive soon. “I think we can do this.”

Tara heard the we and bit back her first reaction. Greg had been pretty much unavailable these past two weeks, and if that was his version of teamwork, she wanted none of it. She punched out, purposely didn’t meet his gaze, and left with Meghan.

“Think he’ll race out that door and chase you down, declaring his unbridled affection?”

Tara frowned and Meghan laughed. “Don’t pretend you’re not over the top. At least it’s mutual.”

“You’re fantasizing. Greg’s my boss.”

“Which means you get to keep the store when you marry him.” Meghan nudged her as they got closer to the bus stop. “Win/win, right?”

“It would be if I wanted to marry the store,” Tara replied. “But I’ve always kinda dreamed I’d come first in my husband’s life. Not work first, with me and one-point-seven kids cruising into a well-funded second. That’s not the happily-ever-after I’ve got scripted.”

Meghan’s bus rumbled closer. She tapped her cell phone. “Text me if you think of anything we’ve overlooked for Friday.”

“Will do.”

“And, Tara?”

“Yes?”

Meghan turned as the bus rolled to a stop. “I’d give the guy a chance.”

Tara started to sigh, and Meghan held up both hands, palms out. “It’s not my business, and we don’t know each other well, but I see a gentle heart in that total stud-muffin body, and that’s a not-so-common occurrence these days.”

Tara smiled. She couldn’t disagree. But the man she married needed a heart for God and for hearth and home, and right now Greg was batting zero. No matter how she did the math, it came up wrong, and that made the new job she loved a mixed blessing.