Carol Clark - Hitched

“You could become a role model,” Adele suggested.

“For what?”

“For being a shining example of ‘Be careful what you pray for. You just might get it.’ But you’ll be the one who dodged the bullet at the last minute.”

Tracy wasn’t quite sure what to make of this statement. She blinked her eyes and turned to Alfred. “For now, I absolutely don’t want people to know my name. Because if he turns out to be innocent, then I’m just the girl who got dumped.”

Alfred nodded.

“Or I’ll sue you,” she added.

Alfred nodded again.

Fifteen minutes later Ellen and Adele pulled around to the front of the building. Regan and Alfred accompanied Tracy down the stairwell. She had on one of Charisse’s raincoats, the hood pulled up over her head. Regan was glad it was actually raining. Tracy leaped into the backseat of her mother’s Lexus, the door was shut, and they sped off to the leafy suburbs of Connecticut.

“I wouldn’t want to be a passenger in that car,” Alfred commented.

“The poor thing,” Regan said. “She was crying again.”

“She’ll get over it. If you find any dirt on her ex, she’ll really get over it.”

“What a responsibility,” Regan muttered.

“Revenge is sweet,” Alfred said in a tone that implied experience.

“But isn’t it a dish best served cold?”

“Regan, it’s good any way you can get it.”

When they got back upstairs, it was three o’clock. The two other April Brides had not returned Alfred’s calls. Charisse had all five brides’ files out and was arranging to order fabric for the four dresses Alfred planned to replace.

“ Tracy ’s situation is very sad, but at least that’s one less dress we have to worry about,” Charisse said cheerfully.

“What if they make up?” Alfred asked.

“She shouldn’t take him back,” Kit commented.

“No, she shouldn’t,” Nora agreed with a look of concern. “Alfred and Charisse, do you think you’ll be able to replace Regan’s dress in one week? If not we’ve really got to start thinking about…”

“Absolutely!” Alfred cried. “Regan will have her dress no matter what. We’ll get started on it right away. No thieves or threats are going to keep Alfred and Charisse from their business!”

“Call a locksmith, would you Charisse?” Regan suggested. “I don’t want you two in here tonight not knowing if some stranger has a set of your keys.”

“Right away, Regan.”

“Where do the two remaining brides live?” Regan asked.

“They’re both in Manhattan.”

“I think I’d better pay them both a visit and deliver the news to them in person. If they’re not there, I’ll leave a note explaining the situation. Written by you, of course. That way they can’t accuse you of not trying in every way possible to contact them. After this experience with Tracy, you’d better be concerned about their privacy. Who knows what their secrets are?”

Charisse sighed. “Anything’s possible. They are both a little different…”

Brianne and her mother had gone to Kleinfeld and been greeted cordially.

“Your wedding’s next week!” the saleswoman cried in dismay. “Did you get engaged five minutes ago?”

Teresa explained the unfortunate situation.

“You’re one of the victims of the bridal heist! One of the April Brides!” the saleswoman boomed. “Oh, my God, what a mess. What a mess! Can you imagine if they stole all the dresses we have hanging around here? I can’t imagine. Well, you picked our busiest day to stop by without an appointment.”

Another saleswoman had wandered over. “Didn’t I wait on you two once before?”

Teresa looked guilty. “As a matter of fact you did. But Charisse and Alfred had a design that Brianne just loved. So we went with them,” she explained.

Both saleswomen nodded mournfully. “It isn’t our policy to work without an appointment, but given your hard luck, we will try and do our best for you,” the first one said. “We have sample dresses…”

“We appreciate any help you can give us,” Teresa said with great relief.

The two saleswomen started pulling dresses off the rack but they couldn’t find anything that worked for Brianne. They clucked, frowned, tsk-tsked, and implied that if they had chosen a dress from there in the first place…well, then she’d have her dress, wouldn’t she?

Brianne was freaking out. She was hot and tired, and the rows and rows of wedding gowns were too much for her. Nothing fit right, and it was too late to order a dress that would really look great. Other brides in the shop were laughing and having fun with their mothers and sisters and friends as they gaily tried on one gown after another, knowing they had time to get whatever dress they wanted. Their happiness made Brianne even more miserable.

Teresa pulled Brianne aside. “Your dead grandmother would light up in the sky if you wore our dress. Let’s get out of here and go dig it out of the attic.”

“What if it’s in bad condition?”

“I wrapped it good. Honestly. I should have had you try it on before you went to those crazy designers.”

“Ma, Debbie had her dress made by Alfred and Charisse. It looked beautiful.”

“Didn’t she split up with him within six months?”

“So?”

“They’re bad luck. I’m telling you. Bad luck.”

“If I wear your dress and it needs to be altered, then we’ll have to take it to them. Who else would do it so fast?”

“It’s all right. We’ll ignore the bad luck then. But it’s good you’re going to wear a family dress. Believe me, you can’t go wrong. If people don’t think it looks gorgeous, you can blame me.”

They thanked the saleswomen for their efforts, drove out to Long Island, pulled into the garage, and entered the house through the back door. Brianne’s father had just returned from playing a game in his over-50 softball league. He’d already heard the news about the dress but seemed to have gotten over it.

“Aahhh,” he groaned. “I pulled a muscle in my leg sliding into home plate.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “You’re fifty-five years old. You’ve got no business sliding around anywhere.”

“You better be in good shape to walk me down the aisle next week,” Brianne told him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said as he reached in the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade. “No more games until after the wedding. I thought I could play next Saturday morning and still make it to the church on time, but your mother forbade me.”

“In no uncertain terms.”

He took a chug from the bottle. “Did you get your money back?”

Brianne pulled the check out of her pocket and slapped it in his palm.

“Daddy’s little girl.”

Brianne gave her father a hug. “I was interviewed on television.”

“Let’s get a tape and play it at the rehearsal dinner. It’ll all work out. You know, honey, the important thing is that you’re marrying a good guy. When I think of that creep you went out with last year.”

“I know. I know.”

“What was his name?”

“Bill.”

“That’s right. Bill the Pill.”

“Good riddance to him,” Teresa said. “You see, Brianne, you could still be stuck with someone like that-someone always whining, complaining, and in a bad mood. Instead, you found a nice boy like Pauly. So he’s a little rough around the edges. He’ll learn.”

“He still hasn’t called me back. I left him a message hours ago.”

“He thought you were going to be busy all day. Maybe he went to see a movie to calm his nerves. All I can say is thank God he finally got a new job. You both work until you have a baby. Then see what’s up. Whatever.”