You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him.
Audrey Hepburn
The next couple of days were spent going back and forth to the hospital. I could read the weariness in Lori-Lou’s eyes whenever I visited. The fact that she’d developed an infection didn’t help. It did buy her an extra day in the hospital on IV antibiotics, though, and she desperately needed the peace and quiet. Not that hospitals were really peaceful. Or quiet. I’d never seen so many people coming and going from one room before.
Aunt Alva looked pretty peaked too. She needed a break from the kids, no doubt. Eduardo did his best to help out, but his ever-growing workload at the shop wouldn’t allow him to do much.
Nadia, God bless her, gave me a couple of days off to help my cousin and Aunt Alva deal with the chaos of bringing a new baby home. By Tuesday night, I’d worn myself to a frazzle, fixing meals for the kids, picking up toys, and changing dirty diapers. By Wednesday morning, exhaustion had firmly rooted itself in every joint, every muscle of my body. Still, I had no choice. I had to go back to work. I had promotional pieces to write, ads to place, calls to make.
After two cups of coffee, a breakfast sandwich from a drive-through, and a couple of vitamin tablets, I finally made it to Cosmopolitan Bridal. Madge took one look at me and sent me straight to my office, probably to keep me from frightening the others. A short time later our morning customers started arriving, but I did my best to stay put at my desk, working on promotional materials for the new Audrey Hepburn line. Around ten o’clock, though, I had to cry uncle. I dropped my head down onto the desk and dozed off. How long I slept, I could not say, but Madge’s voice roused me from my slumber.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Yes, you, Katie Sue Fisher.” I lifted my head and dried the dribble of drool from my lip.
“Hmm?”
“Earth to Katie. Come in, Katie. Can you hear me?”
“I hear you.” A yawn followed. “But it sounds like ‘Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa.’” I rubbed my ears to see if I could get the echo to go away. No such luck. I gave up and dropped my head back down on the desk, mumbling, “Postpartum blues are real.”
“Wait, are you saying you’ve got them?” Madge sounded concerned. “Because if you are . . .” Her words trailed off.
“No.” I lifted my head and glared at her. “Lori-Lou has them. She’s home from the hospital, and she’s done nothing but cry. None of us can figure out why. Poor Aunt Alva has done everything in her power to cheer her up, but every word she speaks only seems to make things worse. Josh finally sent us home last night because Lori-Lou was a mess.”
“Wow. How long will it take to get over this?”
“Eighteen years? Until the baby graduates from high school? I don’t know. I really don’t. I’ve never been a mother. But I’ve had just about all the drama and emotion I can possibly take.” I dropped my head down onto the desk again and muttered, “Calgon, take me away!”
“Well, don’t go too far away,” Madge said, her voice now carrying a familiar stern, motherly tone. “That new bride from Houston is set to arrive in fifteen minutes. You’re the one who arranged her meeting with Nadia, right? Bridget Pennington? She called a little while ago and said she could hardly wait to meet you. So pack your postpartum hormones away and put on your smiley face for her, okay? Up ’n’ at ’em, sunshine!”
“O-okay.” I lifted my head, albeit slightly, and tried to nod. “Just let me sleep for twelve minutes, okay? That’ll give me three minutes to freshen up before she walks in.”
“Whatever. Just don’t be late.” Madge turned and walked away, closing my door behind her. If I dozed off, I couldn’t remember it. I just remember hearing the buzzer on my office phone and Madge’s cheerful, “Katie, you’re needed up front!” over the store’s intercom.
I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and straightened to relieve the aches in my neck and shoulders. Then I staggered to my office door, things still not coming into complete focus. I somehow made it out into the hall, my eyes still sticky from sleep. I swiped at them with the back of my hand, but my vision didn’t seem to improve much. Still, I needed to keep plowing forward. The new customer wouldn’t wait forever.
Before I reached the register, I stumbled into Twiggy. Literally. She looked at me, eyes wide in obvious horror, and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Um, Katie?”
“Yeah?” I yawned.
She pointed me toward the full-length mirror. I gasped when I saw my hair standing on end. I worked like the dickens to smooth it out, then turned my attention to my face.
“What’s up with the mascara on your cheeks?” Twiggy asked. “Trying to make a fashion statement?”
“I rubbed my eyes. They were bothering me. I guess I rubbed off my mascara in the process. I don’t know.”
She handed me a tissue. I leaned into the mirror to get a closer look and then started scrubbing at the mascara spots. Before long the spots under my eyes looked more like heavy bruises. Lovely. I looked like I’d just come out of the boxing ring.
“Do you need to borrow some lipstick?” she asked. “Maybe darkening your lips will balance the other colors out. I hope.”
“If you have some handy.” I yawned again.
“I have Pollyanna Pink. It’s my favorite.”
A couple of minutes later I made my way to the front of the store, doing my best to put the concerns about my appearance out of my mind.
Until Madge saw me. She gave me a wide-eyed stare. I didn’t have a chance to check my appearance again because our customer—aka the bride from Houston—greeted me with a squeal.
“Are you Katie?”
“I am.” I extended my hand. “Please forgive my appearance, I dozed off for a few minutes. You see, I . . .” I couldn’t remember what to say next. In fact, I couldn’t even remember my own name. “I . . . I . . .” I slapped myself on the forehead, ready to admit defeat.
“It’s a postpartum thing.” Madge patted me on the back. “We’re hoping it’ll pass soon.”
“Oh, I had no idea you were a new mommy!” The young woman clasped her hands together. “I can’t wait to start having babies. But first I have to get married.”
“Wait . . . who’s having babies?” Twiggy looked back and forth between the customer and me, clearly confused.
I couldn’t put two words together to explain. I tried. I really tried. “No, I’m not . . . I mean, I never said I . . .” Another yawn escaped.
“Poor thing.” Our bride from Houston offered a sympathetic smile. “I know just what you’re going through. My best friend had a baby a few months ago. She hasn’t slept since. I hardly recognize her anymore. But the baby’s adorable. He’s a boy, by the way.”
“Ah. Well, this one’s a girl. Izzy. Short for Isabel.” I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand and for the first time found myself coherent enough to take in the gorgeous young woman standing before me. I’d picked up on her Southern drawl already. She and Crystal could have a Southern drawl duel. But what really stood out to me was the young woman’s physical appearance. She was breathtaking, from her tall, slender physique to her expensive shoes and Gucci handbag. Wow. All of that stuff must’ve cost a pretty penny.
Her high-end clothes caught my eye—I’d have to be blind not to notice them, actually—but what really snagged my attention was her hair. Long, dark curls fell within inches of her slender waist. She’d pinned the top of her hair up with the tiniest bit of a poof—not eighties style, but a fashionable woman of the twenty-first century.
I could almost read Madge’s mind. I know this type. Daddy’s got deep pockets. We’re going to make a pretty penny off this gal. She gave me a little nudge with her elbow. Not that making a sale was my job. I would leave that to Twiggy, who stood next to me with an inviting smile on her face.
Brady joined us a couple of minutes later, and the young woman glanced his way and waved as if she knew him. Did she know him? I looked up at Brady’s face and saw no hint of recognition there. Still, she continued to stare at him. Her face lit into the most delightful smile, revealing perfectly placed dimples. Really? Could this girl get any more perfect?
“Brady? It’s me, Bridget Pennington. Remember?”
“Pennington.” He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s not coming to me.”
“My dad is Bradley Pennington from Pennington Oil and Gas. We lived down the street from you when we were kids, remember? On Wilson Street? Our parents were friends. We used to do everything together. Bingo night at the country club. Dinners on the lake. Our parents even took a vacation to Galveston together once. We ended up covered in tar because of an oil spill in the Gulf.”
“Bridget Pennington.” He nodded. “I think I remember now.” Brady’s lips curled up. “Seems like you looked a little different back then. Did you used to have shorter hair?”
“Yes. My mother cut it in a little bob when I was a kid. She couldn’t keep up with it because I was always into something. I was the kid with the scraped knees and broken arms from climbing in trees. My parents thought they’d never drive the tomboy out of me, but they gave it the old college try.”
“It’s all coming back to me now.” A warm smile lit his face. “Do you still live on Wilson Street?”
She shook her head. “Not even close. Daddy moved his business to Houston about ten years ago. He bought the penthouse at Williams Tower in the Galleria area. He’s done very well for himself. Houston’s the place to be for oil and gas, and I’m in the thick of it now myself. I guess you could say I’m his right-hand gal.”
Brady gave her a thoughtful look. “Good for him. And good for you.”
“Yes.” She gave a little shrug. “Hard to picture me dressed in business attire every day, right? I couldn’t even get my socks to match when I was a kid. And my stinky tennis shoes have been replaced with heels.” She waggled her ankle, and Brady’s gaze traveled downward to the expensive pumps.
“Nice shoes.”
Watch it, buddy. No point in examining the woman’s ankles just because you two used to climb trees as kids.
“So, you’re in the oil and gas business now.” The admiration in Brady’s expression was more than evident as he spoke. “Who would’ve guessed the little tomboy would end up in a penthouse suite.”
“All those years of climbing trees got me over my fear of heights.” Bridget’s laugh was contagious. “I’m second in command to Daddy, if you must know.”
“I see. I understand how that feels,” Brady said. “Working for my mom isn’t always easy either.”
Bridget released a sigh. “Daddy puts a lot of demands on me.” She grew silent for a moment, and I thought I saw a hint of pain in her eyes. Just as quickly she snapped back to attention. “Anyway, I didn’t drive all the way to Dallas to talk about all of that. I’m here for a dress. And that’s the funny thing. I was looking through a bridal magazine awhile back—one with the cutest Loretta Lynn–style gown on the cover. When I saw the designer’s name was Nadia James, I couldn’t believe it. I just knew it had to be the same Ms. Nadia who used to sew those cute little Halloween costumes for all the neighborhood kids. Remember that one year when you wanted to go as a robot? I think I still have a picture of that in my scrapbook. Priceless.”
Brady groaned. “Did you have to remind me?”
“Right?” Bridget laughed. “Well, I’ve followed your career, so I knew all about . . .” Her gaze drifted down to his knee. “Anyway, I’m sorry about your injury. But it didn’t take me long to put two and two together and figure out you were working here with your mom.”
Brady slipped his arm over my shoulders. “Well, since you brought up the magazine cover, I’d like you to meet the cover model, right here in the flesh. Bridget Pennington, meet Katie Fisher!”
I rubbed at my eyes once again and bit back another yawn. My face grew hot. Though I had appeared on the cover of Texas Bride magazine wearing the gorgeous Loretta Lynn gown, no one had ever called me a cover model before. I wasn’t sure I liked the description.
“Wait . . . Katie? You’re the girl in that magnificent dress?” Bridget let out a squeal and grabbed my hand. “Well, congratulations on winning the contest!” She paused and little creases formed between her eyes. “Sorry, just trying to figure out the timing of all of this. If you just had a new baby, then when . . . how . . . ?” The beautiful young woman shrugged. “Sorry, not trying to get into your business. I guess that photo shoot must’ve taken place quite a while before the baby was born?”
“New baby?” Brady scratched his head. “I’m completely lost.”
I cleared my throat and tried to figure out how to proceed. “Okay, I’ll get to the baby part in a minute, but let me start by saying that we weren’t engaged when I won the dress.”
“But we remedied that in a hurry.” Brady took hold of my left hand and lifted it to show off my diamond ring.
“So, you got the dress first and the ring after? And when did the baby come?” She grimaced. “Sorry! I guess I’m getting too personal, but inquiring minds want to know.”
“Yes, inquiring minds want to know.” Twiggy crossed her arms at her chest and gave me a “How are you going to get yourself out of this one?” look.
“I’m really confused.” Brady raked his hands through his hair.
“We’re talking about baby Izzy,” I explained.
“I’d love to see pictures, if you have any.” Bridget clasped her hands together. “I just love baby pictures.”
“I don’t have any handy,” I said.
“I do. I have some on my phone.” Brady pulled it out of his pocket. “She’s cute as a button. Wait till you see her expressions. Never seen anything like it. Then again, I haven’t been around babies before this one, so I’m on a definite learning curve.” He flipped through photo after photo.
“Ooh, she’s a doll!” Bridget looked at one picture after another. “Congratulations, you two! So excited for you. I had no idea, Brady. I can’t believe I haven’t read this in the papers or online. Usually the paparazzi won’t let you get away with anything, especially something this big. How old is she?”
“I’m so confused.” Brady looked my way, eyes widening. “I’m a father?”
Twiggy snorted and erupted in laughter.
“I’m sure it must seem like a dream.” Bridget patted him on the back. “Probably every new dad asks himself that same thing. You’ll get used to the idea, as soon as you’ve had some sleep, I mean. I’ve heard a lot about how tough the first few weeks can be.”
Brady gave me another look. Oh boy.
Bridget turned her attention to me. “Where is your big day taking place, Katie?”
“We’re still trying to figure all of that out.” I lowered my voice in case Nadia happened to be nearby. “But it will be late summer. That’s as far as we’ve gotten. You know what they say: ‘The devil’s in the details.’”
“Tell me about it.” Her cheerful expression faded in a hurry.
“Well, speaking of weddings, didn’t you drive all the way up from Houston to try on gowns?” Madge, ever the businesswoman, jumped back into salesperson gear.
“Yes, that’s right.” The edges of Bridget’s lips curled up in a smile. “When I called, Katie set up an appointment for me with Nadia. But I daresay I already know which gown I’m going to choose. I saw it in a magazine just a couple of weeks back.”
“Nadia’s in the studio. I’ll go get her.” I hurried down the hall, half relieved to get away from the dark-haired beauty and half frustrated as I recalled how Brady’s eyes had sparkled when he recognized her. Oh, if only I could go back and start this day all over again!