curl my lips into a smile, and I drift off to sleep.
Sami
Present
“Oh.” My mom’s hands go to her lips as her eyes glisten. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”
I loved the dress as I slipped it on in the dressing room, but seeing Mom’s reaction tugs at my heart. I spin toward the three-way mirror.
“Come up on the platform,” the saleslady says as she fluffs the skirt around me. “You look stunning, Sami. Your mom is right.”
I crane my neck over my shoulder, taking in the lace and long line of buttons. The sweetheart neckline does a great job complementing my breasts without emphasizing them. It’s the dress I always imagined, but then I remember the price tag.
“Maybe I should try on some other ones?” I say, pitching slightly from side to side, enjoying the full skirt while taking in the intricate details.
Mom steps up on the podium and wraps her arm around my waist. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Sami, this is your wedding. I know what you’re thinking, but your dad and I have prepared for this since you and your sisters were young. If this is the dress you want, it’s the dress I want you to have.”
I lean my head toward her shoulder.
My parents were married and began having children when they were younger than I am now. Seeing her next to me, it’s easy to understand how we’re mistaken for sisters. My mom is the epitome of understated grace. I grin at her blue jeans and top. Even in her early fifties, she rarely wears much makeup or is excessive about her hair. She and Dad live in the same four-bedroom ranch where they raised four children. They attend the same church and are members of the local Moose Lodge.
In some ways, it’s as if they’re stuck in time, and in others ways it’s obvious that they don’t need to change or move up. They’re both content. Now, my dad does have an unhealthy obsession with reality television shows and zombies, but other than that, I would say that if you had to define my parents in one word it was content.
“Mom, I know Jackson has ideas for the wedding, and I want you to know, he’s willing to contribute. After all, it’s our wedding.”
“Samantha Ann, we paid for Jane’s wedding. We’ll take care of yours as well as Millie’s one day.” She squeezes my waist. “I think it’s wonderful that Jackson has ideas, but honey, you’re the bride. Tell me if you want this dress.”
I scan my reflection and imagine my hair styled, my makeup done, and then this dress. With each inch I see, the more in love with the dress I am. “I do.”
“Then this is the dress we’re getting. And the pearls will be beautiful with the neckline.”
By the pearls, she means a family heirloom and tradition.
I don’t answer her, knowing Jackson isn’t thrilled with the idea of me wearing what he calls hand-me-down jewelry for the wedding. I haven’t brought myself to tell my mother. I know how disappointed she’ll be. Every female descendant of my great-grandmother has worn the same pearls. My sister Jane was the last.
I should be the next.
As we were talking to the saleswoman, Mom gave her address instead of mine. “Wait.”
Mom turns and speaks quietly. “Now that Jackson has moved into your condo...”
“Our condo,” I correct.
“It’s yours and he’s there,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I understand the reasoning for his move, and so does your dad. But since he’s there, I’d rather anything wedding-related come to my email or our address.” She smiles and gives my arm a squeeze. “Remember, he isn’t supposed to see the dress until he sees you walking down the aisle.”
Jackson had moved into my condo shortly after proposing.
Remember the plan: partnership, wife, house...
Well, we’ve been looking at houses. The market is crazy. The ones we like are gone before we have a chance to see them or make an offer. Last month, we met with one of the area’s top builders. Now we are looking at land.
I never considered all the qualifying factors for residency.
Jackson doesn’t want to be in the country. He wants a neighborhood that fits our status. He researches everything down to schools and per capita median income. After all, it’s important for our children to make the right friends.
Honestly, the subject has lost its luster.
The last time we spoke about land, we got into a big discussion about moving closer to Johnson. Admittedly, outside of my