Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,80

put on my dress.”

We unzipped the white gown from the garment bag, and I helped Adrianna to step into the dress. When I zipped up the back, I was quite relieved to find that the fit was perfect. “Let me look at you.”

I stood in front of my best friend and clasped my hands to my mouth to stifle my choked gasps. The crisp white material was fitted over her chest and tied halter-style at the nape of her neck. Adrianna had altered the dress so that it fell softly against her belly and accentuated the beautiful shape of her late-pregnancy body. Gentle gathers of fabric made up the skirt. Her wedding dress was simple, with no lace or huge bows: just clean, flowing lines. I felt overwhelmingly happy that Kitty wasn’t here to make snide comments about Adrianna’s decision to wear virginal white.

I grabbed a tissue and dabbed my eyes. “You’re breath-taking, Ade. You really are.” I started maniacally snapping pictures. I looked at my watch. “It’s getting close. Oh, we almost forgot the flowers! I’ll go find the bouquets. And then I have to get all my papers for the ceremony.”

“Okay. I’ll just be here.”

I couldn’t leave Ade by herself. My dad was going to walk her down the aisle, but she needed a woman to wait with her. “Don’t worry. I’ll send someone up to sit with you. Give me a hug.”

“Watch the dress.” Ade shrieked as I leaned in. We hugged gently, not wanting to crinkle our dresses or ruin our makeup.

“I’ll see you on the aisle.” I opened the guest room door and stepped into the hall.

“Oh, screw it. Give me a real hug.” Ade held her arms out.

I raced to my friend and squeezed her tightly. “This is it.”

TWENTY-FIVE

I had to find someone to stay with Adrianna while we dealt with last-minute details. In so many ways, Ade really was alone: she had almost no women friends, her father had disappeared, and her hostile mother was worse than none. If she waited by herself, she was bound to feel painfully solitary. My mother was her matron of honor, but this was Mom’s house, and she was mobbed right now. I looked out the front door and spotted my sister. No, Heather wouldn’t do; she couldn’t open her mouth without criticizing someone or something. Although Heather wouldn’t intentionally hurt Adrianna, she might blurt out something thoughtless and stinging. Besides, she and her husband, Ben, were busy trying to keep their kids from ruining their fancy outfits. And they did look adorable; one-year-old Lucy was wearing a poofy pink dress and white Mary Jane shoes, and five-year-old Walker had on a navy suit. I had visions of them serving as flower girl and ring bearer at my own wedding. Romantic visions of Josh and me riding off into the sunset momentarily distracted me. I shook off my fantasies and continued looking for an appropriate person to stay with Adrianna.

Owen’s relatives were impossibly difficult, and Kitty was obviously out, too. Then I saw Naomi and her boyfriend, Eliot, on the front lawn, admiring the tent. Aha! Naomi was, well, Naomi. New Age, corny, touchy-feely, yes, but Naomi was absolutely genuine, and she was sweet, supportive, and reliably kind. “Naomi!” I waved her over. “I need a favor.”

For the wedding, Naomi had fastened her dozens of braids with turquoise beads that matched her long garment, which appeared to be an actual sari draped in some non-Indian manner. On her feet were what I recognized as brand-new tan suede Birkenstocks. On the positive side, Naomi said that she’d be more than happy to stay with Adrianna until my mother could officially begin her matron-of-honor duties. “Chloe,” she said with her usual enthusiasm, “I brought a copy of the letter of reference I wrote for you. The one I sent to the secretary of state’s office. I thought Adrianna might like a copy for her wedding album. Here, I’ll read it to you.”

Keeping one eye on Naomi, I used the other to look out the front door for arriving guests.

“This is my favorite part,” Naomi said happily.“ ‘Chloe Carter has a remarkable soul, and I offer up my sincerest hope that she be allowed to unite her two friends—’ ”

“Son of a bitch!” I screamed.

“Well, that’s not very nice, Chloe.” Naomi crinkled her nose at me.

“Not you, Naomi. Owen.” I pointed to the groom, who stood outside talking to Josh.

Josh looked positively dashing. More than dashing. Regal. As Adrianna had