regarded Kristin for a moment. Did she feel that way about Tim? Special? Like they belonged together? When they first met, he consumed her daytime thoughts and nighttime dreams, but lately, since the engagement . . . Charlotte exhaled. What she needed at the moment was to concentrate on turning this fiancée into a beautiful, unique bride.
“Is this the gown you’ve selected?” Charlotte produced a bridal magazine clipping of the dress Kristin wanted. “It makes you feel special like Oliver makes you feel special?”
“Yes, yes, it does.” Kristin’s eyes glistened. “I went to a friend’s wedding a few years ago and just loved her gown. I looked everywhere to find one just like it. It’ll be perfect for me.”
What Charlotte didn’t get about brides was why they all wanted to look alike. How could a dress just like the one Kristin’s friend wore make her feel special?
She considered it her mission, her calling even, to dress her brides as uniquely as possible. When a bride slipped on a truly perfect gown, Charlotte’s soul rested in pure satisfaction.
“It is a lovely dress, Kristin.” Charlotte held up the picture as if to study it. “White satin strapless gown with an A-line skirt and a chapel train.”
“I get weepy every time I see it.” Kristin pressed her hand to her chest. Her engagement ring glinted in the afternoon haze that fell through the southern window.
Charlotte scooted forward, inhaling, calculating her next words. Kristin was a reluctant Malone & Co. client, only coming in this afternoon because her mother insisted.
“Well, if you want this dress, really want this dress, then buy it from the shop where you found it.” Charlotte peered at Kristin with a gracious, kind smile and tucked her photo album under her arm with exaggeration. Kristin’s lit eyes dimmed and follow Ced s fed Charlotte’s every move.
“Why can’t you order this gown? I’ve seen it in several shops. Surely you could—”
“Kristin, I don’t order gowns that are in every other shop. I dress brides from the inside out. I’m not a bridal gown mill.” She tapped the photo album. “Do you want to see what’s in here?” Charlotte scooted closer to her client, opened the album on Kristin’s lap, and turned the pages. “Do you see what I see?”
Page after page, the same gown, just a different bride. A blonde, a brunette, young, old, skinny, chubby . . .
Kristin took over turning the pages, the excitement in her countenance fading. “Where’d you get these?”
“The newspaper, websites, all around Birmingham. These are from the last six months.”
“I never realized.” Kristin’s shoulders slumped forward. “Oh my . . . now what am I going to do? I thought I’d found the perfect gown. Just perfect.”
Charlotte gently removed the photo album and closed it, placing it on the floor by the sofa. She intended to wake Kristin up. Not crush her.
“We’re going to find the perfect dress. Trust me. When we attend one wedding at a time, we don’t realize how many of the dresses are exactly alike. But at Malone & Co. our job, our delight, is to find a gown that fits your figure as well as your heart. Kristin, finding gowns for brides that expresses them completely is my one talent in life.” Charlotte tipped her head to see Kristin’s face and laughed softly. “Don’t deny me my one, widdle talent.” Kristin broke into a smile. “Tell you what, if you don’t like the gowns I bring to you, then I’ll personally recommend you to a friend of mine who sells the gown you have here.” She tapped the magazine cutout Kristin brought in with her.
“My mother insisted I talk to you because she said I could do better than this.” Kristin ran her finger over the image of the model wearing her once-perfect gown.
Charlotte sat back, reading Kristin’s countenance. “I understand how you feel about that dress. All your friends looked beautiful in the same style and you want to be beautiful too.
“Is this the gown you’ve selected?” Charlotte produced a bridal magazine clipping of the dress Kristin wanted. “It makes you feel special like Oliver makes you feel special?”
“Yes, yes, it does.” Kristin’s eyes glistened. “I went to a friend’s wedding a few years ago and just loved her gown. I looked everywhere to find one just like it. It’ll be perfect for me.”
What Charlotte didn’t get about brides was why they all wanted to look alike. How could a dress just like the one Kristin’s friend wore make her feel special?
She considered it her mission, her calling even, to dress her brides as uniquely as possible. When a bride slipped on a truly perfect gown, Charlotte’s soul rested in pure satisfaction.
“It is a lovely dress, Kristin.” Charlotte held up the picture as if to study it. “White satin strapless gown with an A-line skirt and a chapel train.”
“I get weepy every time I see it.” Kristin pressed her hand to her chest. Her engagement ring glinted in the afternoon haze that fell through the southern window.
Charlotte scooted forward, inhaling, calculating her next words. Kristin was a reluctant Malone & Co. client, only coming in this afternoon because her mother insisted.
“Well, if you want this dress, really want this dress, then buy it from the shop where you found it.” Charlotte peered at Kristin with a gracious, kind smile and tucked her photo album under her arm with exaggeration. Kristin’s lit eyes dimmed and follow Ced s fed Charlotte’s every move.
“Why can’t you order this gown? I’ve seen it in several shops. Surely you could—”
“Kristin, I don’t order gowns that are in every other shop. I dress brides from the inside out. I’m not a bridal gown mill.” She tapped the photo album. “Do you want to see what’s in here?” Charlotte scooted closer to her client, opened the album on Kristin’s lap, and turned the pages. “Do you see what I see?”
Page after page, the same gown, just a different bride. A blonde, a brunette, young, old, skinny, chubby . . .
Kristin took over turning the pages, the excitement in her countenance fading. “Where’d you get these?”
“The newspaper, websites, all around Birmingham. These are from the last six months.”
“I never realized.” Kristin’s shoulders slumped forward. “Oh my . . . now what am I going to do? I thought I’d found the perfect gown. Just perfect.”
Charlotte gently removed the photo album and closed it, placing it on the floor by the sofa. She intended to wake Kristin up. Not crush her.
“We’re going to find the perfect dress. Trust me. When we attend one wedding at a time, we don’t realize how many of the dresses are exactly alike. But at Malone & Co. our job, our delight, is to find a gown that fits your figure as well as your heart. Kristin, finding gowns for brides that expresses them completely is my one talent in life.” Charlotte tipped her head to see Kristin’s face and laughed softly. “Don’t deny me my one, widdle talent.” Kristin broke into a smile. “Tell you what, if you don’t like the gowns I bring to you, then I’ll personally recommend you to a friend of mine who sells the gown you have here.” She tapped the magazine cutout Kristin brought in with her.
“My mother insisted I talk to you because she said I could do better than this.” Kristin ran her finger over the image of the model wearing her once-perfect gown.
Charlotte sat back, reading Kristin’s countenance. “I understand how you feel about that dress. All your friends looked beautiful in the same style and you want to be beautiful too.
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