For the Love of Friends(15)

“Is that weird?” Caryn asked Rita.

She smiled knowingly. “I’ll pretend I’ve never seen you before.”

Caryn dropped her shoulders in relief. I hadn’t even realized how much tension she was carrying there until she lowered them. She looked at herself in the mirror again, then stepped off the pedestal to hug me. “Thank you.”

I returned her hug tightly. “Of course.” I paused. “Do I still get to sing in the birdcage?”

She laughed. “You can do anything you want after this.”





CHAPTER SEVEN


I had a package waiting for me when I got home. I tore into it, expecting the new yoga pants I had ordered, but found a journal, brightly colored dual-tipped markers, stencils, stickers, and a gift note from Megan instead.

I know organization isn’t your thing, but a bullet journal will help you keep all of the weddings straight! I already put some of my important dates in for you! XX —Meg.

Bullet journals were more Megan than me. But she had picked one that was perfect for me: it had a turquoise background with gold lettering that said, “Get Shit Done.” I flipped to the first page, where she had written Lily’s wedding journal in sparkly gold pen. Turning to June, I saw that her wedding day was filled in with rose gold, as well as her rehearsal dinner, bridal shower, and bachelorette party.

Thank you for my super cute gift, I texted her. She replied with a kissy face.

I camped out in the living room and started transcribing dates from my phone calendar into the journal. Would I actually carry a journal around with me normally? No, I was pretty digital. But the profanity on it made me like it.

Megan’s first wedding dress shopping date conflicted with Caryn’s appointment at the salon where we had secretly found her dress, but I figured that my behind-the-scenes work meant I could skip the fake appointment. I was supposed to go with my mother and sister on Sunday the following weekend, and I assumed I wouldn’t be involved in Madison’s dress shopping since they lived in Chicago. But I realized I hadn’t heard anything from Sharon about dresses and decided to check in and see how she was doing.

Hey love, I texted. How’s planning going? Are you looking for dresses? Can I help with anything?

I don’t want to get married anymore, she responded. I called her immediately.

“What happened? I can hire someone to break Josh’s kneecaps.”

“No, I do want to marry Josh. I just don’t want a wedding.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “I went dress shopping with my mom and my sister. And the saleslady was so mean. She took away the only dress I liked.”

“What do you mean the saleslady took away the dress you liked?”

“She said it wasn’t good on me.”

“What does she care? It’s not her wedding.”

“She said it wasn’t good and she practically forced me out of it and then put this big puffy thing on me that she said would hide my problem areas and I started to cry.” God help the bridal salon worker who says something like that in front of me, I thought. Yes, Sharon’s mom was even harder on her about her weight than mine was, but I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Meyer tolerating someone else bringing up her daughter’s “problem areas.”

“What did your mom say?”

“They wouldn’t let her in the room with me. So I just came out and said I wanted to go home.”

“That doesn’t make any sense though. Why would she take a dress away from you? She works on commission!”

“Because she’s mean.”

“What store was it?”

Sharon named a Potomac boutique that I had passed before. I fished my laptop out of my bag and opened it. “Do you remember what the dress looked like?”

“It was white.”

“Gonna need a little more info than that.”

“It was satin with lace over the top part. And it was kinda A-line, but like, not a lot.”

I pulled up the boutique’s website, but didn’t see a way to narrow that down. “Do you remember the brand?”

“Maggie something.”

I googled “Maggie wedding dresses.”

“Sottero? Does that sound right?”

“I think so,” Sharon said.

I clicked on a few dresses. But after shopping with Caryn, something immediately caught my eye. “Uh, can I ask a stupid question? Did your mom tell the saleslady how much she was willing to spend on a dress?”

“They made us fill out a form with our upper limit on it.”

“And did your mom give some ridiculous number?”

Sharon paused. “I don’t know if it’s ridiculous or not.”

“So yes, then?”

“Why?”

“Because this brand is way cheaper than most in the store. That’s probably why she didn’t want you to get it.”

Sharon was quiet for a minute. “Are you serious?”

“Yup,” I said. “But hang on, I’m sending you a link. Was it this one?”

She put me on speaker to look at the dress. “No. I didn’t see that one.”

I tried again. “This one?”

“No.”

“One more.”