retail therapy.
“Ciao, benvenuta.” An older woman nodded in greeting, her dark hair threaded with grey. She wore a deep green dress and a gold necklace in the design of a snake.
“I’m here to look at your vintage bridal gowns,” Fi said, and the woman nodded her head once more, toward a door that led to a room in the back. Appreciating the unfussy nature of the woman, who didn’t seem interested in chattering, Fi breezed through the shop to the back room. Two long racks lined each wall, bursting with dresses.
“Oh, wow,” Fi crowed, and pulled out a notebook where she’d recorded everyone’s sizes. In less than an hour she’d amassed a pile of tulle and sequin that had even the clerk curious.
“Can’t decide which one is for you?” the clerk asked, glancing at where Fi had piled the dresses on a chair.
“Nope, those are for my friends. I’ll take all of them. I just have to pick mine out,” Fi said, strolling up and down the racks. Her eyes finally landed on a dress that looked like it was straight from a dominatrix store, not meant for a vintage bridal shop.
“I think this will do. But I’d like to try it on first.”
“That’s certainly a choice,” the clerk said.
Fi bit back a smile. She didn’t have the heart to admit that she was picking the ugliest dresses she could find in order to have a spoof-wedding hen party.
“I’ll just be right out,” Fi said and carried the dress into the fitting room. Pulling the mustard-yellow curtain closed behind her, she undressed quickly and slipped the dress over her head.
“May I see?”
“Sure,” Fi said, not seeing a mirror in the room. She stepped out to where the clerk stood by a long mirror on the wall next to the fitting room curtain.
“It works for you,” the clerk said.
Fi almost giggled when she realized the woman was absolutely serious. There was no way she’d ever be caught in… whatever this shiny material was. Then she turned, and her mouth dropped open when she saw herself in the mirror.
It should have been ridiculous. The latex dress, dripping in sequins with a pouf of ruffles at the hem, hugged her body like a second skin. For once in her life, she looked like she had actual curves instead of the boyish figure she always complained to Grace about. Her eyes looked huge in her face, and oddly alluring.
“I… I honestly was not expecting this to look this good,” Fi admitted, running a finger over the bodice. “It’s really not my style.”
“Are these for a hen party?”
“They are. I thought it would be fun if we all dressed up a little ridiculous in dresses that maybe we wouldn’t choose for ourselves.” There, she was being honest without insulting the woman’s entire stock.
“This dress does not look ridiculous on you. However, I bet I can make it so. Give me a moment.” Turning, the woman bustled away, and Fi appreciated the fact that she was more interested in making a sale than in what the gowns were being used for. In a moment, the woman returned, her arms piled full with mounds of tulle and lace in a variety of colors.
“A veil,” Fi said, and laughed when the woman plucked the gaudiest one from the top and placed it on her head. They both stared at the mirror, and nodded together.
“Now it is ridiculous. But, I will say: When you marry, look for a dress in this cut. The shape” – the clerk kissed her fingers – “it is meant for you.”
“That’s a long way out yet,” Fi promised her, though she caught herself staring in the mirror, admiring her body in the dress.
“One never knows. Like a lightning strike, love can scorch your heart in an instant.”
Chapter 5
Gallagher’s Pub wasn’t open yet, but those who knew Cait well enough knew that the door was always unlocked in the mornings. Fi paused outside, admiring the new paint job on the shutters and trim that lined the pub’s tall narrow windows. Where the pub had once been green and red, now Cait had chosen a cheerful blue with a brilliant gold trim. Fi approved.
“I see the pub’s gotten herself a fancy new dress,” Fi called as she pushed the door open. Cait’s head popped up from behind the bar and for a moment, Fi’s heart squeezed. She’d seen her mum behind the long expanse of burnished wood more times than she could ever count. Gallagher’s Pub