Here Comes the Bride, page 6
“Let’s see the ring,” Denise said, as they sat down. “Rita told me she was going to give this to Ethan after you guys lost the other one.” She looked at Cate’s hand. “I remember this ring so well when Aunt Rita used to wear it.” She turned to Ethan. “Remember how every time she used to make meat loaf she would take it off and let me try it on? But only if I washed my hands.”
Ethan laughed. “That’s right. I do remember that.”
“And remember the time when Chuck had a girlfriend over and she wanted to try it on too and Rita said no?”
“Oh yeah. What was that girl’s name?”
“Sally Woods.” She turned to Cate. “Rita and I used to think that Sally’s name sounded like a porn star, some kind of pseudonym. She was so skinny and weird with her black eye makeup. We called her The Sassy Sally Woods. We had names for all of Ethan’s and Chuck’s girlfriends.” She still held Cate’s ring. “There was that one girl that we called Dandy Mandy.” Cate remembered her because Ethan had dated her while they were in high school. “Rita and I would say she’d probably stolen Cyndi Lauper’s wardrobe.” Denise laughed as if remembering something. “Yep, we do. We have names for all . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at Cate. “Except you, of course.”
Something about Denise bothered Cate. She’d tried to ignore it. Perhaps it was the fact that Cate had suddenly realized they were going to be related. Or perhaps it was just that she was tired of Denise constantly taking long exclusive trips down memory lane.
Cate didn’t really want to hear about Denise wearing her engagement ring. It sort of ruined the sentimental value of the ring between Ethan and her. Now she had an image of little meat loaf hands running around in the ring Ethan had given her. Couldn’t she just say, Hey congratulations, you guys. I’m really happy for you—like a normal person?
It had always bothered Cate a little bit that Denise insisted on sharing stories that Cate had never been a part of, talking about people that she’d never met. She tried to rationalize that Denise really liked to reminisce, and so she’d politely listened to Ethan and her while they shared all kinds of memories.
Denise looked at Cate and said something about how she had known they were going to get married the whole time they were in Playa del Carmen, how Ethan had shown her the ring before he left, and blah blah blah.
Cate wasn’t listening to her. She was thinking about step aerobics. It had actually been Denise who had made the first move in their friendship and invited Cate to join her. “I can get you a free pass at my gym anytime you want to come with me,” she’d said.
Cate hadn’t done step aerobics since her freshman year of college and would’ve preferred a walk around the bay for exercise, but she wanted to be friends with Denise so she’d gone to the class.
The whole car ride to the gym Denise had done nothing but tell her how difficult and intense the class was going to be. Cate wasn’t worried because she had been a pro back in college and had even practiced some of the moves the night before.
The class was great, and sure enough, it had all come back to her, just like skiing or riding a bike. She had done some turns in the wrong directions a few times, but so had most of their classmates. She’d had a great time and felt happy that she’d finally found something in common with Denise. She heard from Denise the following morning.
“Hi,” Denise had said sweetly. “I was just calling to see how you were doing. I told Rita this morning, ‘She is going to be so sore today.’ And I called Ethan and told him he needs to give you a massage.”
“Oh thanks,” Cate said. “That’s so nice of you!” Every part of her body had ached—places she didn’t even know she had muscles. “Yeah, it was a rough day at school. I couldn’t wait to get home and soak in the tub.”
“Hopefully after you heal we can go again.”
“I’d love to!” She hung up, glad that they were finally friends.
The strange thing was, Denise never called again. Never invited Cate to join her again, and every time Cate mentioned step aerobics after that, Denise changed the subject. She’d asked Ethan about it, and he’d said that he doubted she went anymore. She was too busy with her job, and she wasn’t really in that great of shape anyway. The funny thing was, Cate had overheard Denise talking about step aerobics at family events. Even though the results weren’t obvious, she made it sound like she went all the time.
Cate couldn’t help but take it personally, wondering what she could’ve done to drive Denise away. She’d worn deodorant, but maybe she’d had vicious BO that had scared Denise out of inviting her again. Maybe she looked like a jackass when she did right basic, left basic, and Denise was embarrassed to be seen with her.
Cate remembered the way she had eyed her while they were stepping away to Britney Spears. She recalled catching glimpses of Denise’s eyes narrowly watching her in the mirror in front of them. The more she thought about it, the “check in to see if you’re okay” call had been tinged with a slight tone of pleasure when Denise had found out how sore she was. She hated to make assumptions, especially negative ones, but maybe Denise just couldn’t stand it that Cate was good at something. It was a horrible thought and probably why she’d pushed the whole memory from her thoughts, but it really ate at her nerves that Denise had discussed how sore Cate was with Rita. Had they come up with a name for her too? Muscle Ache Cate?
“Cate?” Ethan said.
They were both staring at her when she looked at them. “Cate, don’t you have something you want to ask Denise?”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I thought you had something you wanted to talk to Denise about.”
She shot him a look but quickly recovered and smiled.
“Really?” Denise said. “What is it?”
They both waited for her to say something.
“Well, uh . . .” She’d changed her mind. She didn’t want to ask her.
But what was she going to say now? Ethan had already cornered her, and it would look awkward if she asked her something else. Besides, she was so shocked that he’d put her on the spot that she couldn’t even think of something else to ask. They waited, Ethan smiling, Denise fingering the beads on a necklace she wore.
“Well, I wanted to ask you to be a bridesmaid in our wedding.”
“Oh. Sure, of course. I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.”
There it was. Denise would be in the wedding. As she sat there sipping on her wine, she wondered what she had just gotten herself into.
• 9 •
Dream Dress ... or Not
The following morning she called all the local vendors listed on the bridesmaid dress designer’s Web site. A discouragement unlike anything she had ever felt kicked in when, one after the other, each San Diego wedding boutique informed her that they didn’t carry a sample of her dress. Even though her stomach growled and her ear began to ache from pressing the phone against it for over an hour, she dialed Los Angeles. They have everything in L.A., she told herself. Someone will definitely have it.
She listened while the saleslady in Los Angeles flipped the pages of a catalogue. Then she delivered words that made her feel as if she had just won the California Lotto. “Yes, we have it.”
She asked her to repeat the style number. She wanted to double-check before she schlepped her mom through the worst traffic in California for her wedding gown. When she read the style number back to Cate she felt her throat tighten. She was looking at the wrong dress. Again, she repeated the style number, which she knew as well as her ATM PIN code at this point.
“Ohhh,” she muttered. Cate could hear her flip a page in the catalogue. “That is a gorgeous dress. But no, I’m sorry, we don’t have that style in yet.”
She began to hate the designer. Who puts something on her Web site if it isn’t available to the general public? Only someone who was seriously sick would want to torment brides-to-be. She politely e-mailed the designer’s customer service, asking for help. Several hours later they replied. The dress wasn’t available anywhere in the state of California, but she could try Chicago.
“We’re not going to Chicago,” Connie said, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. She stopped by to look at the picture of the dress and go over a list of things they needed to do for the wedding. “And how do you know if you even like it? You haven’t even tried it on!” Connie suggested they try the most popular bridal boutique in San Diego. “Let’s see if we can get an appointment for this afternoon.”
She printed a picture of her beloved style #045323, and later that day they drove to the bridal salon with the picture neatly folded and tucked into Cate’s purse. They arrived at the boutique, and she felt slightly nervous when she noticed racks overflowing with full skirts.
“Hello, you must be uh . . .” She flipped through an appointment book. “Cate?”
“Yes.” She smiled at the chipper young girl in a suit.
“Welcome to Bridal Couture! And congratulations on your upcoming wedding!”
“Thanks!”
Her eyes wandered to Cate’s ring finger, and the smile wilted from her face. For a moment Cate thought the girl was going to say something. Instead, she returned her pert little smile to Connie.
“And you must be the proud mother of the bride!”
“Yes.” Connie’s smile was flat, and Cate knew her mother had seen the grim look on the girl’s face when she’d glanced at the ring. The receptionist’s snobbishness didn’t bother Cate. For years now, she’d silently listened to some of her more shallow friends compare rings and flaunt their gigantic gems like they were designer labels. Stuff like that never mattered to her, because she knew they all had problems with their husbands anyway, and she’d often thought bigger rings had only compensated for a lack of commitment.
However, Connie was a force of nature. She didn’t have the same kind of patience for people. She was the kind of person you wanted with you when you got bad service at a restaurant, because she’d make sure not only the manager knew but the owner and everyone else who happened to be nearby. Cate was willing to bet the woman had never been ripped off once in her life. She was even worse when it came to her children.
Cate would never forget the time when she was six years old and she was having a hard time doing step ball change in her tap dance class. Rather than making Cate feel comfortable, her idiotic teacher had singled her out and made her do the step ball change over and over again in front of the entire class, and a few parents who had stayed to watch. Humiliated beyond words, she’d told her mother what had happened on the car ride home. She could still hear the wheels of Connie’s Volvo screeching when she turned around. With Cate in tow, Connie had marched back to the class and interrupted the teacher. Cate couldn’t remember the words Connie had chosen, but by the time they’d left she had the teacher doing the step ball change in front of everyone, humility covering her face.
“Fantastic that you both could come,” the girl said. “Let me get Edith. She’s going to be working with you guys today.”
“You do that,” Connie said, watching her go.
While they waited in the lobby for Edith, she noticed another bride-to-be with her mother, laughing and strolling around the boutique with a perky and fashionable little sales consultant.
Her view was suddenly blocked by an obese woman in her late fifties, wearing turquoise slacks and a green and white striped T-shirt. A banana clip held back her graying hair, and a mole the size of a macadamia nut stuck from her chin. She was going to be helping them.
“Great!” Cate said. She handed her the picture while explaining what she had in mind.
“Hmmm.” Edith handed the picture back. “Okay, let’s take a look around.”
She led them to a rack of dresses that looked nothing like the picture Cate had shown her. “What do you think of this dress?” She pulled a strapless gown with beading on the bodice and a full skirt from the rack. It looked like it had been tried on a million times by women who never bathed. The edges were brown, especially around the armpits, and some of the seed beads had come loose. “Do you want to try this on?”
No. But she also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Um. Okay. But I’m looking for something that has a V-neck and thin material. A sheath dress.” Hadn’t she just explained this?
She spotted the other bride-to-be and watched with envy as her salesgirl pulled out dozens of V-necks made of flowing silk and thin straps while she happily nodded approval. Her heart sank as she watched them leave with the pile.
“I want to look at those dresses,” Cate said, following their trail with her eyes.
Edith told her to look around while she searched for another dress she had in mind.
“I don’t like our saleslady,” Connie whispered as soon as she was gone.
They began to frantically comb the rack where the other bride had been looking. They spotted a few gowns that resembled what she was looking for and held onto them as if they just stumbled upon potatoes in a famine.
When Edith returned, she held more of the same strapless style with full skirts. Cate debated asking for a manager. Feeling completely discouraged, she followed Edith to a dressing room that was larger than a studio apartment she had once lived in. She waited for her to leave. However, Edith didn’t budge. Instead, she began pulling sharp little silver pins from a pincushion. All Cate could think about was how grateful she was that she’d worn underwear.
She tried on her favorite sheath dress first. It was ten sizes too big, and she stood patiently while Edith pinned and tucked the gown. After Edith was finished pinning, she reached for a long veil hanging in the dressing room. Cate wanted to tell her not to bother with the veil because she didn’t want to wear one. She’d envisioned her hair in a loose knot near the nape of her neck, a couple Vendela roses tucked into the bun for decoration. But Edith had already started tucking the veil on the crown of her head, and Cate figured she might as well experiment while she had the opportunity. After Edith crookedly attached the veil, she quickly reached for another accessory. “Here you go,” she said. She handed Cate a fake bouquet of flowers.
Stiffly, she turned toward her mother. She was afraid if she made one false move she would trip over the dragging gown or cathedral-length veil that dug into her scalp.
“It looks like a nightgown,” Connie said instead of getting tears in her eyes, as Cate always imagined her mother would the first time her youngest daughter stepped into a wedding gown.
Fashion had never been a common interest among them. Cate remembered the time in high school when she’d bought leopard skin creepers and Connie said she couldn’t understand why anyone would purposely want to wear orthopedic shoes. However, this time Cate agreed with her. The dress did look like a nightgown, and she could see every unflattering crevice and bulge in her body beneath the silk. She imagined all of their friends and relatives seated in Founders Chapel, looking at her butt cheeks clenching as she took each step down the aisle.
The most flattering part of the whole ensemble was the veil. Though crooked, and giving her a headache, she actually liked it. Something about its long cathedral length was elegant yet dramatic and very flattering to her silhouette.
The other two sheath dresses were the same story, and it was then that she understood why her dream dress had been so hard to find. Only Gwyneth Paltrow and Uma Thurman would look good in it.
At this point she was open to anything. She tried on the first dress Edith had selected—the strapless one with dirt around the edges. As Edith began to pin the dress to fit her figure, she felt that same surge of adrenaline she felt when she spotted her dream dress online.
She turned to Connie. She was dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. “I told you that you have to try them on,” she said. “You look beautiful.”
“Twenty five years’ experience,” Edith said. “I always know what looks best.”
After that she listened to Edith. In fact, she hung on her every word. Eventually, she found her dress. Pure satin, it was strapless with beads that sent prisms of rainbow lights from the mirrors. It had a mermaid style skirt, and there was no tulle or crinoline to create any poof. She also selected a cathedral-length veil with white piping around the edges.
She was in a wonderful mood when they left the bridal salon. Her mother threw her arm around Cate’s shoulders. “Isn’t this exciting?” Connie said. “You’re going to look beautiful! I can’t wait for everyone to see you in that dress. Ethan’s gonna die.”
“Thanks, Mom. Thanks for coming with me. I had a really good time today.” She was about to put her arm over her mother’s shoulders when her cell phone rang. “It’s Ethan.”
“Don’t tell him what it looks like,” her mom chided as Cate answered the phone.
“Hey, pretty,” he said. “How’s it going? Did you find a dress?”
“I sure did.”
Her mother’s car made a beeping noise when she opened her door. She climbed into the passenger side of the car. “What’s going on?”
“There is a house I’m really interested in looking at. I drove past it, and it looks pretty good. When are you coming back? Denise said she can get us in there around six.”
“We’re on our way now. So if we don’t hit traffic we should be right on time.”
She agreed to pick him up at five, and they would drive up to Escondido together. She hung up and slipped her cell phone back into her purse.
“How’s Ethan?” her mother asked.
“Great. He found a place he wants to look at.” She was going to have to tell her sooner or later, so she may as well get it out in the open now, especially when her mother was in a good mood.
