Chapter 22

The bridal showcase room smelled marshmallow sweet. Dozens of mannequins modeled frothy white wedding gowns. Racks and racks of dresses hung from displays. As she strolled across the plush carpet, Darcy floated like a little girl into a magical world of make believe.

“I’m so excited.” Betty gravitated toward the gemstone bridesmaid’s dresses. “What are your theme colors? Blue and—”

“Red.” Darcy remembered Victor’s favorite color.

Betty selected a ruby red sheath, which graced her ankles. “What do you think?”

Touching the red satin fabric, she smiled. “Try it on.”

“Welcome to Wedding Dreams Come True. I see you’ve found a bridesmaid’s dress.” A young salesclerk greeted them.

“Yes, I have.” Betty hugged the dress to her chest. “I’d like to try on this dress. My friend, here, needs a wedding gown.”

The salesclerk led Betty to a fitting room and returned to Darcy. She gave her a critical onceover. “The perfect wedding dress starts with a few questions.” She puckered her lips and tapped her chin. “I’ll need to know if this wedding is your first or subsequent marriage.”

“It’s my second.”

The clerk sauntered over to a rack of pastel-colored dresses and selected a tea-length gown. “Try on this one.”

The dress looked like something the mother of the bride would wear. She furrowed her brow. “I want to wear white.”

The clerk waved a hand over the satin skirt. “We need to focus on the softer pastels. White is tacky the second time around. After all, you’re not a virgin.”

“Neither are most first brides.” Tightening her face, she forced a laugh.

The salesclerk hung the pastel dress back on the rack and stalked down another aisle. “Are you having an indoor or an outdoor wedding?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy stammered. Victor had asked her to part with four hundred thousand dollars in her 401k as a down payment on Gary’s home with the promise of replenishing her 401k as soon as he secured funds from his own investments. When she told him she only had forty thousand dollars saved from the years she worked as an event planner for a big Los Angeles firm, he said he would find a way to buy the house without her financial assistance.

The salesclerk snickered. “Maybe you should come back when you have more information.”

Inhaling a long breath, she narrowed her gaze. Don’t snap, she thought. Remain professional. No need to stoop to her level.

Betty stepped out of the dressing room and modeled the ruby red dress. “What do you think?”

The style emphasized her tiny waist. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay, I’ll get it.” Betty twirled before the mirror and flashed a smile.

Oh, great, Darcy thought. She’s spending money on a dress she’ll never wear. “Umm, on second thought, why don’t you just put it on hold? We have other boutiques to try.”

Betty shook her head. “I like this dress. I’m buying it.”

The salesclerk turned toward Darcy. “I have the perfect dress to match your bridesmaid.” She marched down an aisle crammed with white dresses covered in plastic. “Here’s something you might like.” She withdrew a tea-length gown in a pale cream color. “It’s simple and elegant for a more mature woman entering her second marriage.”

“I’m not wearing that dress.” She frowned. “I want a white, floor-length gown with a train.”

“The traditional look is not good for second weddings.” The salesclerk frowned. “Pulling off a big ball gown is hard when you’re over forty.”

“I might as well wear something out of my own closet then.” Sighing, she turned to leave.

“Just show her something else.” Betty clasped her hands.

The salesclerk sauntered down the aisle, yanked out a random white dress here and there.

Darcy trailed behind, shaking her head. “No, no, no.” She waved aside each dress, not wanting an A-line, a mermaid, or a trumpet skirt. Tears thickened in her throat.

The salesclerk shoved a blush-colored dress back on the rack.

A flash of rhinestones caught Darcy’s attention. She slipped a hand between the dresses and plucked a gown with a beaded bodice and a flounced skirt with a modest train. “May I try on this dress?”

The salesclerk wrinkled her forehead. “The dress is too young for you.”

Darcy stepped back, as if she had been slapped. Her whole body trembled with anger. How dare the salesclerk insult a customer? “C’mon, Betty, let’s shop where customers are shown respect.” She shoved the dress back on the rack and stomped outside.

Betty darted after her. “Wait for me. I have to first pay for this dress.”

Darcy unlocked her car door and sat inside, staring out the window for a couple of minutes. The entire shopping experience replayed in her mind like a rerun no one wanted to watch. She cringed with humiliation when she remembered the salesclerk’s reprimands. No traditional white gowns for middle-aged brides. Just tacky tea-length dresses in cream or blush colors. Pouting, she started the engine.

A few moments later, Betty rushed out of the store, clinging to the red bridesmaid’s dress covered in plastic. She opened the passenger’s door and slid inside, folding the dress into her lap.

“I can’t believe you bought the dress.” Darcy arched an eyebrow. “Especially after the way the clerk treated me.”

“My dress has nothing to do with how you were treated.” Betty caressed the fabric beneath the plastic cover.

Darcy backed out of the parking spot and drove down the main street. To steady herself, she took a few deep breaths. “After this experience, I realize it’s much worse being a middle-aged bride than I thought. You get no respect.” Tears pricked her eyes.

Betty patted Darcy’s knee. “Relax. We’ll go to Brides and Maids. I’m sure someone will help us.”

Merging onto the freeway into Saturday afternoon traffic, she shuddered. How much longer would the charade continue? Already, Betty spent her hard-earned money on a fabulous dress she would never wear. Now, they traveled to another bridal store to shop for a wedding gown which Darcy would never wear. Who cared if Darcy and Victor agreed to break up on Thanksgiving? The engagement needed to end now before things escalated even more out of control. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel for strength, she stared straight ahead. “I’m not getting married.” Finally, she told her best friend the truth.

“Everyone gets cold feet.” Betty lifted her arms, palms up. “I almost didn’t marry Chuck, but my future mother-in-law took me aside and explained the reason for second marriages. People learn and grow from the mistakes they made the first time, and they’re more determined than ever to make things work the second time.” She pointed to a road sign. “Take the next exit.”

Darcy veered off the freeway. Why didn’t Betty believe her? What else did she need to say? Pressure and frustration built behind her eyes. She lied about being engaged, because she got caught up in the fantasy of being a middle-aged bride. A tear dribbled down her cheek. She wished she could have told Victor, “No,” when he proposed. She wished she could have told Joyce she didn’t want to plan her wedding. She wished she could have told her ex-husband she didn’t want to pay for a nanny.

Wiping her moist cheek with the back of her hand, she shivered. At least she walked out of the store when the salesclerk insulted her. She told Betty the truth about not getting married, even though her friend didn’t listen. At the next light, she circled back onto the freeway and drove south in the direction of Betty’s house.

“Where are we going?” Betty glanced out the window at her surroundings.

“I’m taking you home.” Why continue the charade by visiting another bridal boutique? She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Betty pursed her lips. “Are you mad at me for suggesting we go someplace else to shop?”

“No, I’m mad because you didn’t hear what I had to say.” She tensed her jaw until her teeth hurt. “I’m—not—getting—married.”

“Of course, you are.” Betty patted her shoulder. “You’re just angry things aren’t going your way, and you’re taking out your anger on me. That’s what people who are close to each other do sometimes because it’s safer than keeping things bottled inside.”

Darcy pressed her foot on the accelerator and switched to the fast lane.

“Slow down and get off on the next exit.” Betty pointed to a street sign. “We’ll find you a dress. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

“You sound like a psychologist rather than a lawyer.”

“Chuck and I are still seeing a marriage and family therapist once a month. When we first started going, I dreaded it. Now, I look forward to the appointments. Things work better between us when we go check in with someone else. A neutral third party holds us more accountable for the changes we promised to make for one another. Maybe you and Victor should consider pre-marital counseling.”

Darcy groaned. She sped across two lanes of traffic to the exit and drove into the nearest parking lot. She wanted to turn off her engine, face her friend, and explain in tiny, painful details the whole shenanigan from start to finish.

“Oh my God, look at the woman leaving the store.” Betty pointed.

Darcy swiveled for a look.

A gray-haired woman carried a white wedding gown out of a boutique. The dress almost touched the pavement. The woman carrying the dress looked well over sixty.

“The dress must be for her granddaughter.” Darcy sighed.

“I’ll bet you fifty dollars it’s for her.” Betty opened her wallet and shook two twenties and a ten.

Hope tingled beneath her skin. What if Betty was right? Sliding into a parking spot, Darcy turned off the engine and stumbled out of the car, almost tripping with excitement. Beads of sweat dampened her palms.

Betty opened the car door and ran after the older woman. “Excuse me!” she yelled. “Excuse me, ma’am! Is that dress for you? Or did you pick it up for someone else?”

The older woman stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Who wants to know?”

Betty pointed to Darcy who stood beside her. “My friend here is engaged, and she’s having problems getting a traditional dress. Everyone says she’s too old.”

Darcy nudged Betty in the ribs. “Not everyone. Just one salesclerk.”

The older woman showed them the dress. “It’s for my third wedding to the best man I’ve ever met. My first husband left me for a younger woman. My second husband died too early for me to enjoy him. I’m hoping the third husband will last.”

Darcy stared with a slack jaw at the white taffeta gown with a six-foot train tied high in the back to keep it from dangling out of the plastic bag. She clasped her hands against her rapidly beating heart. If the older woman could find a long white dress, why couldn’t she?

“C’mon.” Smiling, Betty grabbed Darcy’s hand. “Let’s find the perfect wedding dress.”

Once she stepped inside the bridal store, Darcy forgot her resolution to explain the truth. Beautiful gowns hung from golden hangers on one side of the room. Mirrors lined the opposite wall. A bank of dressing rooms covered the back of the store.

As the door swung closed, a tiny bell chimed. A woman with a coif of blonde hair smiled, glancing from Darcy to Betty. “Which one of you is the lucky bride?”

“She is.” Betty pointed to Darcy.

The woman opened her arms and hugged her. “Congratulations! I’m Edith, and I’m the owner. I enjoy helping people find a dress which speaks to them. Do you know what you want?”

After a moment of hesitation, Darcy explained the dress she wanted as a young woman.

Edith listened and nodded before disappearing behind a white curtain and returning with the exact gown Darcy described. “Go ahead and undress.” She guided her into a fitting room. “If you need help with the zipper, let me know. I’ll be just outside.”

Stripping out of her sweater and jeans, she fumbled with the zipper and the netting in the tulle skirt. Stepping into the dress, she wiggled the material up her waist and over her breasts. As she zipped it up the back, the bodice hugged her curves. The skirt flowed against her hips and kissed the floor. She twirled and glanced at the back of the dress in the mirror. The three-foot train swirled like a tiny white puddle. Pleasure tingled throughout her body, and a quick smile lifted her face. Parting the dressing room curtains, she stepped into the showroom.

Betty covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh my God, you look like a princess.”

Edith smiled. “You’ll make one lucky man proud to call you his bride.”

Darcy spun, tugging along the train. She gazed at herself in the mirrors surrounding the showroom. A glow of happiness radiated from her. Finding the perfect dress on the first try must be a sign. “I’ll take it!” She clasped her hands to her chest.

After changing into her clothes, she stood at the register, sweat beading against her forehead. How could she buy a dress she would never wear even if Victor paid?

“With tax, the dress costs four thousand fifty-two dollars and eleven cents.” Edith held out her hand for payment.

Darcy refused to open her wallet.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked.

Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t buy the dress.”

Betty hugged her. “Yes, you can. Your future husband’s paying. He expects you to come back with a dress.”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t stop the tears spilling down her cheeks. “You don’t understand,” she sobbed.

Edith touched her hand. “I understand the amount is more than you want to spend, but it’s worth the investment.”

“I’m not crying about the dress.” Darcy snuffled. “I’m upset about the engagement. It isn’t—”

“Is your phone ringing?” Betty pointed to Darcy’s purse.

A dance melody played somewhere inside Darcy’s purse. She plunged her hand into a pocket and grabbed the phone.

“Have you found anything?” Victor asked.

Darcy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Just hearing his strong, reassuring voice steadied her emotions. “Yes, I did.”

“Send me a picture,” he said.

Again, she started sobbing. “I can’t,” she mumbled. Turning from the register, she walked toward the back of the showroom. “I can’t wait any longer to end this masquerade. We have to break up now.”

“Not today,” he said. “We’ll break up on Thanksgiving. That’s not too far away, okay?”

She rubbed her nose and sniffled. “No, I want to end this game now.”

“Darling, you’re emotional,” he said. “I respect you more than you know. I’m not breaking up with you over the phone. When we break up, I want to see you, touch you, and reassure you everything will be all right. Okay? Can you wait until then?”

The tone of his voice steadied her. The shakiness in her arms disappeared. “I guess I’ll have to wait.”

“Now, please send me a picture of you in the dress.”

“Why?” She didn’t understand why anyone would want to see a fake bride in a real wedding gown.

“Because I’m here and you’re there,” he said. “I’m missing all the excitement.”

The disappointment in his voice startled her. She arched her eyebrows. “Shopping is exciting?”

“Anything with you is exciting. Please, humor me and send me a picture.”

Ending the call, she returned to the register. “My fiancé wants a picture of me in the dress before I buy it.”

“No way.” With furrowed brow, Betty shook her head. “For the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding is bad luck.”

Hmm…maybe she could get out of buying the dress, after all. She slung her purse over her shoulder and stalked to the door.

“Where are you going?” Betty asked. “You need to pay for your dress.”

“Victor’s not buying until he sees me in the gown.”

Edith suggested they send Victor a picture of the dress modeled by a woman in the vendor’s catalogue she carried for the store.

“No mannequins and no models.” Darcy lifted her chin and placed a hand on her hip. “Only me.”

Betty sighed. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers and ignore the old wives’ tale.”

Edith guided Darcy back into a fitting room and helped her into the dress. “Your hair would look wonderful down against your shoulders.” She touched the ends of Darcy’s hair. “It’s such a rich color. Where do you have it done?”

“I do it myself.” Darcy smiled.

“Are you a hairdresser?”

“No, I’m a divorce planner.”

“No wonder you’re so upset.” Edith met her gaze in the mirror. “This experience must be hard after seeing so many broken marriages day after day. What does your fiancé do?”

“He’s a divorce attorney.” She gestured toward the showroom. “Betty introduced us.”

“Ah, so she’s the one responsible for transforming both your lives.”

“Transforming is a great word to describe our relationship.” Darcy smiled. “Victor says I bring a lot of fun into his life.”

“Of course you do, dear.” Edith smiled at Darcy’s reflection. “You’re fun and hopeful.”

Darcy admired the woman reflected in the mirror. Tears again filled her eyes. “This wedding isn’t real,” she whispered. If I keep saying the phrase aloud, she thought, then maybe I’ll believe it.

Edith squeezed her shoulders. “I understand you must be overwhelmed with all the planning, but your feelings are very real. You deserve happiness. Now, take a deep breath and relax. Let’s go out there and show your future husband what he has to look forward to, okay?”

Darcy stepped into the showroom and stood on the podium by the wall of mirrors.

Betty took several pictures from different angles and sent the best to Victor.

By the time Darcy changed back into her clothes, her phone rang.

“I like it,” Victor said. “How much is it?”

“Over four thousand dollars.”

He whistled. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Yes, all of this pretending has been a bit much.” She stepped away from Edith and Betty. “I can’t wait until Thanksgiving. I need to say something now.”

“Calm down,” Victor said. “Thanksgiving is less than a week away. You can wait until then. Just don’t buy the dress. Leave the store. And please promise me you won’t tell Betty anything until we’ve discussed how we will inform people about our broken engagement, okay?”

She agreed. Ending the call, she returned to Betty and Edith. “Victor said the dress costs too much. He wants me to keep looking.”

“But this gown is the one.” Pinching her eyebrows together, Betty picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

“No, please, let’s just go.” Darcy turned to Edith and smiled. “Thank you for all of your help, but I won’t be buying the dress after all.”

Edith braced her hands on the counter. “I understand your concern about the price, but I guarantee you won’t find the same quality anywhere else.”

Darcy stared at the beaded bodice and the flouncy tulle skirt. She would have paid double the price for the dress, because the gown represented the love she always envisioned would be hers.

Edith hung the dress on the rack behind her. “I’ll put it on hold for you for one week, in case you change your mind.”

Tears clung to her lashes. “That gesture won’t be necessary.”

“I’ve been in this business for thirty years. Miracles happen all the time.” Edith removed a white tag and clicked a pen. “May I have your contact details?”

After she relayed the information, Darcy clutched her hands and turned away, thinking of the wedding that would never be. Oh, what miracle would get her out of this mess?