The Bride Wore Crimson Page 9

  “Did I mention that Ronnie and her boyfriend have secret plans to run off and get married as soon as the expo is over?” Jenny said without missing a beat or offering me any connection to what I’d asked.

  I tamped down my impatience. “What did Ronnie say happened the day the jewels were stolen?”

  “Oh, that. It was about the security system. The cameras inside haven’t worked for six months. Her dad was too cheap to get them fixed. He said, ‘Nothing ever happens in Weddingville.’”

  Words Elton Ring will long regret. “I know. That’s why Mr. Ring has Whitey installing a state-of-the-art security system.”

  We’d reached the back door of Blessing’s Bridal. As we entered, Jenny said, “But don’t you see? Ronnie was there. She had easy access to what was stolen. That’s means and opportunity. And she’s planning to run off and get married. She and her fiancé will need money. That’s motive.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The perfect wedding is in the details, the thief thought, running a finger down the edge of the cake knife, the serrated blade honed to the smoothness and sharpness of a razor. The solid gold gave the handle heft. It would make a formidable weapon, if the need arose. The irony was that it might still be in a showcase at that Bernice woman’s shop if she hadn’t been such a bitch to her customers and her staff. She’d been asking to be taught a lesson. She’d deserved to be robbed. But maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe, since she coveted this cake slicer, she should have it. Right through her mean heart. A smile played across the thief’s face.

  The knife slipped into the box alongside its mate, the metal shiny in the meager glow of the lamp. The thief’s gaze shifted to the handful of rings, also on the table. The cops considered these stolen, but that wasn’t so. They were only borrowed. Something borrowed, something blue. The edict was very clear. Everyone knew that.

  Poking through the rings, the thief looked for the blue diamond, the eye-catching one that had led to the borrowing. Where was it? The perfect symbol of our perfect love. A red glint caught the thief’s eye instead, as if it were speaking. This ring looked old. Maybe it was the band, or maybe the setting. The huge stone, a ruby perhaps, seemed to have depths like deep water, dark at its center, lighter near the edges. The thief peered closer, unable to look away, feeling a hypnotic pull as if it were somehow magical. Or cursed. A shudder went through the thief.

  Go away, nasty red ring. You do not fit my wedding plans. The thief dropped the ruby ring into the to-be-returned pile. After all, you don’t keep something you’ve only borrowed. The return was going to be more difficult now that the jeweler had updated his security system. That little glitch in plans would need to be worked out. Hmm.

  As the thief considered the dilemma, the platinum blue-diamond ring revealed itself. Aah. There you are, you magnificent beauty. Yes, details. Soon, my love, soon.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “In the past two days,” I told Meg as she slipped into the third tea-length dress she’d selected from the racks, “I’ve observed every size and shape of female in the hunt for the perfect wedding gown. I’ve come to the conclusion that most women don’t know what looks best on their particular body.”

  “Very few women have any fashion sense,” Meg agreed as I closed the back of the ivory lace gown that cinched in her waist. The bodice was heart-shaped, and the skirt flared slightly, giving the illusion of an hourglass. Her long, unruly curls spilled over the cap sleeves and onto her creamy skin. Tiny crystals had been woven throughout the fabric. My breath caught in my throat. She’d looked like a princess in the peachy Cinderella gown she’d worn for the wedding to Peter Wolfe, but in this gown, she might be a fairy queen. It was stunning. She was stunning.

  She peered at herself in the mirror, her brow knit as if she didn’t see what I was seeing. I feared it was her inner turmoil that blinded her to just how beautiful she looked. I hadn’t brought up the ring, the curse, or whether or not she was going to marry Troy. She was here, trying on dresses, and that said more than words. But now I wondered if I should be her best friend and let her spill her guts.

  However, she was apparently still mulling over the question about women and fashion. “You have to consider the role models most girls have growing up.”

  “Their mothers,” I said automatically, thinking of my own, then twitching since Meg’s mom had abandoned her when she was twelve. “Their aunts…”

  “Teachers…” Meg smirked.

  I burst out laughing, recalling our math teacher, Ms. Rhodes, who dressed like Dolly Parton. “Or their favorite celebrities, God forbid.”

  While I was fortunate to have had good style examples to learn from, Meg was born with a talent for clothes, makeup, and hair that I’d always envied. She’d been fast-tracking her way toward becoming a stylist to the stars when her life derailed. She might’ve lost that career and been forced to give up Hollywood for Weddingville, but she retained the natural talent and the skills she’d honed over the years. I’d hoped that once she was feeling like her old self again, she’d consider opening a salon here in town. It seemed, though, that she wasn’t recouping as quickly as I’d hoped. Maybe if she had something to focus on that she was confident about…

  I brought up the subject. “It’s not as if a salon is my idea, Meg. It was all you talked about on the road trip home from Los Angeles.” After her failed wedding and losing our dream jobs in L.A., we’d packed up our apartment and U-Hauled our belongings back here. It seemed so much longer than nine weeks ago.

  “I don’t know what I want to do yet, Daryl Anne.” She looked equally undecided about the lacy gown, shifting this way and that and frowning at her image. This appointment had been her idea. Not mine. Somewhere inside, Meg was moving forward, even if she didn’t recognize it yet.

  “Come on, you can see yourself better in the three-way mirror.” I led her out to the main room.

  But someone else was already standing in front of the glass, my mother hovering nearby, a weariness around her eyes. It was the last customer of the day. Willa Bridezilla, Mom called her. This was the petite brunette’s third visit to the shop. She was a perfect example of a woman who had no clue what style best suited her shape.

  She took one glance at Meg’s shimmery dress and declared, “That’s what’s missing. This dress needs bling. I want to shimmer, like her.”

  I swear Mom was stifling an eye-roll. I couldn’t blame her. The dress didn’t need bling; it needed a different bride. Someone tall and curvy.

  “That dress doesn’t need sparkles,” Meg said as if she and Willa were old friends. “It’s just too much dress for your tiny frame.”

  Willa recoiled as if Meg had called her an anorexic whore. “Excuse me? Who died and made you style goddess?”

  “Diamonds wouldn’t improve what you’re seeing in the mirror,” Meg answered as if she hadn’t heard the retort. “You’re not wearing that dress. It’s wearing you.”

  I almost choked. Mom’s face flushed pink and her mouth rounded, but no word or sound issued from her. I didn’t know if she wanted to kiss Meg or ban her from the shop. But I sensed she was seeing dollar signs flushing down the toilet. This bride’s budget allowed for one of the most expensive gowns Blessing’s Bridal carried, and Willa was determined to spend that much or more. Or at least she had been until Meg spoke up. Now, it was anyone’s guess, but if I were betting on it, I’d say, “Sale lost.”

  Willa scowled at her reflection. And I suddenly realized why she hadn’t found a dress to give her that special moment every bride wants to feel when she puts on the gown. She wasn’t emotionally vested in this purchase. Just monetarily. Why? Was she in a contest with her girlfriends to see who could spend the most money on their wedding? If so, I pitied her parents’ pocketbook as well as the poor sap she was marrying.

  “Bling.” Willa pinned Mom with a look that said, Hop to it, lady.

  “I suppose we could try a belt,” Mom said, slipping into the back room.

  I bit my tongue, my han
ds curling into fists at my sides. I was this close to ordering Willa to leave. The only thing stopping me was that I’d been raised to believe the customer was always right. Big Finn had taught Meg the same thing.

  But recent life lessons had given Meg a new perspective on honesty, on what could come back and slap you in the face if you lied to yourself. Add that to her current anger stage of grief, and she couldn’t restrain the need to set this bride straight. “That is a beautiful dress, but that voluminous skirt is swallowing you. Less is more, you know?”

  The bride scowled at Meg, her eyes like slits, her nose wrinkled as if the tea-length gown Meg wore smelled like trash. “Yeah, I can see that appeals to you. But I can afford a whole dress.”

  My BFF’s cheeks flashed pink dots, the first sign that turbo-temper had locked and loaded.

  I almost shouted, “Fore!” to warn everyone to duck. Things were about to fly, and I wasn’t sure the hurled items would only be words.

  But Meg didn’t holler; instead her voice was deceptively soft, and I held my breath as she said, “How much you spend on your dress won’t ensure a happy marriage. And that dress not only looks awful on you, but you also can hardly maneuver in it. You’ll trip going down the aisle.”

  The brunette huffed, muttered, “Bitch,” and started toward Meg. Thank God Mom reappeared at that moment carrying a blinged-out belt. Willa gave a smug laugh and lifted her chin haughtily. Mom wrapped the belt around her and stepped back. Now attention was drawn to the belt, but not to the bride. Surely Willa could see that all eyes wouldn’t be on her but on the dress.

  “I’ll take it,” she said, startling us all.

  After I lifted my chin off the floor, I had to tamp down my own irritation. This woman had ordered my mother around as if she were a servant and not the owner of a prestigious bridal shop, and she’d called my BFF a name when Meg was trying to make her see that the dress didn’t suit her. If I had a speck of sense, I’d step away and say a silent “good riddance” to this bridezilla. But my conscience nagged like a bitter old hag. No matter how much I didn’t want to deal with this customer again, I couldn’t allow her to leave the shop with that dress as “the one.”

  Mom must have read my mind. She caught me by the shoulders and spun me away from Willa, speaking softly. “Sometimes you have to just take the money, Daryl Anne, and wish the bride well. This is one of those times.”

  I knew she was right, and yet, I was torn.

  Mom brushed hair from her cheek, the strain of this sale evident in the lines at her eyes and mouth. “But you might apologize for Meg.”

  The suggestion raised my hackles. I dropped off the fence I’d been straddling. “No.”

  “No?” Mom stepped back, making her disapproval clear, even though she whispered it. “Then I’ll apologize for her.”

  “No, you won’t. We can’t sell this woman that dress. You know I’m right. That Meg is right. What kind of reputation would we maintain if that was our practice?”

  “What are you going to do?” Mom frowned, worry spreading through her eyes. “She’s tried on every dress in the store in her price range.”

  “Not every dress.” I strode over to the petite brunette. “Willa, a”—I rattled off the name of a coveted wedding dress designer—“arrived in a shipment today that is a sample size. Your size. It’s a French lace and chiffon trumpet mermaid style with a scalloped neckline and a chapel train. It’s a very special dress, and exactly right for your figure. We haven’t even had time to take it out of the shipping box yet, but before you decide on this dress, I think you owe it to yourself to at least try that one on.”

  The brunette’s ears twitched. I had her interest. She glanced at Mom. “How much is it?”

  Mom found her composure with lightning speed. “Only a thousand more than your budget, but if you decide you love it, I’ll take that thousand off.”

  “And throw in the veil?”

  I tensed. A veil could run as much or more than a gown. Mom didn’t hesitate, though. Happy brides meant free word-of-mouth advertising. Besides, I knew the dress was actually four thousand less than Willa’s budget, which meant we could still come out ahead. But letting Willa think she was getting a deal was smart business. I silently applauded Mom’s savvy.

  “Can we do this now?” Willa asked. “I don’t want to have to come back again tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely,” Mom said. “I’ll get the dress right away.”

  The dress had come in yesterday and was actually ready to be put out after the shop closed tonight. As Willa ducked into one of the dressing rooms, Mom gave me a thumbs-up and headed into the back room to get the gown.

  “Will it be the one?” Meg asked.

  “You know, I believe it will be. It’s a stunner. Like you,” I said, positioning her before the three-way mirror.

  Meg glanced at herself, doubt still wavering in her big green eyes, but then something amazing occurred. Seth strode toward us carrying his mug, obviously headed for the coffeepot. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze locked on Meg. “Holy… Wow! Meg. You. That dress. Wow! Troy’s going to be blown away.”

  I arched a brow, glad for the support but kind of taken aback. I wasn’t sure I liked my guy’s tongue hanging out when he looked at another woman, especially when that other woman was my best friend. I glanced back at Meg and realized that his compliment hadn’t bounced off my best friend. Just the opposite. She blinked, then drew a sharp breath as if the blinders had been cleared from her eyes and she saw in the mirror what we all saw.

  She gasped. “Oh my God, Daryl Anne, I love this dress. It’s… it’s amazing.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and in mine, that special moment hitting both of us. I nodded, sniffling. “Seth is right. Troy O’Malley is one lucky guy.”

  Meg wiped her eyes and hugged me. “I’m the lucky one… to have such good friends. Thank you, Seth.”

  He shook his head, looking discomfited. “Just stating the truth.”

  “You think this one is the one?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes, this is definitely my dress,” Meg said, smiling. And I knew she was thinking what I was thinking. Those red satin slippers were going to be just the perfect complement to it. “Come on, help me out of this before I get mascara or makeup on it.”

  As we entered Meg’s dressing room, Mom and Willa emerged from the other, the tiny brunette wearing the designer, trumpet-mermaid dress. She glided by us with ease and grace. Meg smiled at her, and I feared anything Meg said or did, even smile, would be taken wrong by Willa. I shoved Meg into the dressing room before she could blow the sale for Mom. But as soon as the door was shut, Meg said, “Did you see that dress? It’s gorgeous on her.”

  “I know. Finally. Let’s hope she agrees.”

  I helped Meg out of her dress, putting it carefully into a special garment bag as Meg slipped into the outfit she’d worn here, a short skirt and a pale green top that brought out her eyes. She was buckling her sandals when a cell phone rang. At first I thought it was mine, since Meg famously misplaced or couldn’t find her own.

  To my surprise, however, she actually had hers within reach, powered up and turned on. She pulled it from her skirt pocket. The ringtone was “Hawaiian Wedding Song.” Her dad and new stepmom had spent their recent honeymoon in Maui. Since it seemed the wrong ringtone for Big Finn, I didn’t figure it was announcing a call from her dad.

  She said, “It’s Zelda.”

  Duh. “I’ll give you some privacy. I want to put this dress in Alterations.” To ensure that nothing happened to it, like someone stealing it.

  I left her to her phone call. Willa and Mom were still standing by the three-way mirror. Willa was saying, “I didn’t think I’d like this much lace, but it’s, ah, I feel so…” Her voice broke, as though she were choking up. Maybe having that special moment at long last? I could only hope.

  I winked at Mom as I passed, but I heard Willa say, “I’ll take it. At the special price you offered with the veil thrown in.”
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  “I’ll throw in a veil, but only if you choose one from this rack,” Mom said, taking control again, her voice strong and sure.

  A moment of hesitation, then Willa said, “Deal.”

  I proceeded to Alterations filled with relief. I placed Meg’s dress on the reserved rack and tagged it with her name. Hannah appeared behind me. “You know that woman your mom just got the dress for? Willa?”

  “Yes.”

  Hannah’s blue eyes narrowed, the most animation I’d seen from her in years. “She’s the one who stole Lisa Marie’s fiancé.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Hannah nodded. “She’s doing all of her wedding shopping in town, rubbing Lisa Marie’s nose in it.”

  Now I was sorry I hadn’t let Willa leave with the dress that overwhelmed her. Really sorry. And she’d had the nerve to call my Meg a bitch. “The only consolation is that Lisa Marie’s fiancé will deserve every miserable day of his marriage.”

  “Yep. See you tomorrow,” Hannah said.

  “Night.” I went for coffee, hoping to run into Seth.

  He’d started a new pot, the aroma uplifting, the small gesture thoughtful. He was always doing considerate things, like bringing in a new blend of coffee for us to try or ordering deli sandwiches if we were too busy to take a long lunch.

  A smile gave away how happy I was to finally have a moment alone with him. “You know the way to a woman’s heart, Quinlan.”

  “I’m only interested in one woman’s heart, Blessing,” he said, handing me a steaming cup. “I’m hoping you’ve forgiven me?”

  “For?”

  “Not admitting to Troy that I’m the one who told Meg about her ring being stolen.”