“I know you don’t like the one I picked, but I tried to keep it in a reasonable price range at least.”
I had no idea she had paid attention to that. “Thank you.” I didn’t deny hating the dress, but I could concede that it might look sweet on someone nearly a decade younger than me. “So when do you want to go try on the dresses?”
“I could go tomorrow morning.”
“I work a nine-to-five.”
“Every day?” I rolled my eyes. She had never held an office job. “Gross. Okay, what about Thursday night?”
“You’re on.”
I typed out a reply to Madison, thanking her for keeping us in the loop and complimenting her dress. I added that I would start looking at flights and see what was doable for her shower as well. I hit “Send,” hoping that my tone was conciliatory enough to make that situation less awkward.
Today was a good day, I thought, leaning back in my chair.
“Lil, did you ever finish updating the website with the HAWC write-up?” Caryn was at my door, a stack of papers in her hand.
“Ugh. No. I’ll do that now.” I glanced at the calendar on my wall. Just six more months until all of this was over and I could go back to having an actual life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I arrived at the bridal salon on Thursday night, Amy was already there. With our mother.
“I didn’t realize you were coming,” I said as she kissed my cheek.
“Amy invited me.”
I gave Amy an annoyed look and mouthed, “Why?” Amy shrugged. I did not need a repeat of the “why this dress would look good on someone who isn’t Lily” game today. But wasn’t this whole endeavor pointless anyway? Neither Amy nor I were going to say we hated the dress and make Madison pick a different one, so what did it matter how it fit us?
“What are you going to wear, Mom?” Amy called from the dressing room. The store only had one of the dresses, so we were taking turns trying it on.
“To which wedding?”
“Jake’s. I thought I’d go with you to shop for yours for mine.”
“Why don’t you come with me for both?”
“Ooh okay, fun!” She emerged from the dressing room in the yellow chiffon and did a little twirl. “I don’t hate it.” She studied her reflection in the mirror and bit her lip. “I don’t love it, but it’s fine.”
I looked at her critically, studying how the dress fit her. We were built similarly, but Amy was a little thinner these days. She had been a chubby teenager and worked really hard to maintain her current weight. But the dress was flowy without bulk and looked like it would be cool in the Mexican heat and forgiving of problem areas without necessitating Spanx. And even more thankfully, it had wide straps, so I could wear a normal bra. The color even looked good on Amy, with the remnants of her tan from Mexico.
“It looks good, Ames.”
My mother was biting her lip in an unconscious imitation of Amy’s face. “You don’t like it?” Amy asked her.
“Who are her other bridesmaids?” my mom asked.
“She said it was her sister, her cousin, and a friend?”
“Are they bigger girls?”
I looked at her in alarm. “What?”
My mother ignored me. “It’s just such a shame to hide your figure in something like that. Especially when you’ve worked so hard.”
“I know. But it’s not my wedding. It’ll be fine.” Mom looked unsure. Amy shrugged at me, then handed me her phone and struck a pose. “Take a picture so we can send it to Madison?”
I did, internally girding my loins for the jellyfish of a comment that was about to come my way when I put on the same forgiving dress. Amy retreated to the dressing room and emerged a couple minutes later in her jeans. “Tag, you’re it.”
Whatever they were discussing while I was in the fitting room was said too quietly for me to hear more than a murmur of voices. I pulled off my shirt and pants and put on the dress.
I stepped back to get as full a view as I could in the fitting-room mirror. It actually wasn’t bad. Yes, the color was frightful on me, but the fit was somewhat flattering. Would I choose this dress on my own, even in a different color? No. But it was the first one any bride had picked that didn’t make me feel overly self-conscious. I smiled faintly at my reflection. Yes, I would be the much older spinster sister at my brother’s fabulous destination wedding in a color that didn’t suit me at all. But I would still look pretty good doing it. And even my mother couldn’t find a flaw with that. Actually, scratch that. This was my mother we were talking about.