“Excuse me. Do you mind?”
Meow Meow blinked at me and slowly deflated on top of the paperwork.
I ruffled her ears and then marched into the hallway to grab my coat and tote bag.
Just as I closed the closet door, I heard the frenetic skitter of claws followed by a series of thumps coming from the study. There was a final, louder thud, and then Meow Meow careened into the hall and galloped off in the direction of the staircase.
Back in the office, I discovered my neat stack of folders had exploded everywhere.
“Freaking cat,” I muttered.
I sank to the floor and began gathering the jumble of paperwork. Mr. I Can Be of Assistance to You could put them back in their rightful order, I decided.
A series of now mangled printouts of newspaper stories caught my eye.
Upshaw sentenced to twenty years for drug arrest
Judge makes example of first-time drug offender
Defendant’s family suggests Upshaw’s sentence too harsh
I skimmed the headlines, but it was the picture of a devastated young man leaving a courthouse that caught my attention. The image was grainy and crumpled by cat feet, but I still recognized him. It was my father’s law student protégé, Allen.
After an interminable amount of time spent suffering in northern Virginia traffic, I slid out from behind the wheel of my Jeep with my phone pinned between my ear and shoulder.
“Yeah, hey, Maeve. I have a question for you. It’s about Dad. Give me a call when you get a chance,” I said to my sister’s voicemail before disconnecting the call. If Dad had been interested in Allen’s mother’s case, he probably would have discussed it at some point with my sister.
I reached back inside to drag my tote across the console.
I was five minutes late, which annoyed me. But I filed away the annoyance, straightened my shoulders, and pasted a cheerful smile on my face as I engaged bridesmaid mode.
I plugged in the parking info on my app and marched the two blocks to the bridal shop. Rather than a bell tinkling when I opened the front door, angelic harp music announced my arrival. I found Naomi, Lina, and Stef seated on a pink velvet banquette, each holding a tall flute of champagne, surrounded by an explosion of underskirts, lace, and every tone of white identifiable by the naked eye.
Naomi looked as though she was having the time of her life.
Lina looked like she was about to vomit.
“And how does our bride feel about one dress for the ceremony and a second dress for the reception?” asked a bald man rocking blue velvet loafers and matching cobalt glasses.
Lina choked on her champagne. “One dress is more than enough,” she insisted. Her eyes darted to me. “Oh! Look! Sloane is here. I’d better go greet her.” Her long legs wrapped in designer denim ate up the pink carpet between us. “Help me. I feel like I’m suffocating in taffeta,” she hissed, pulling me in for an awkward and unexpected hug.
“You must be terrified. You’re voluntarily hugging me.”
“I’ll voluntarily make out with you if you help me pick a dress in the next ten minutes so we can get out of here. I’m breaking out in hives.”
“I thought you liked fashion?”
“I like clothes I’m going to wear every day. I like badass heels and designer suits and luxury gym apparel. But apparently I don’t like wedding dress shopping. It reminds me that…” She looked over her shoulder. “It reminds me that I’m getting married.”
Prior to the appearance of the broody, wounded Nash Morgan, Lina had been more love ’em and leave ’em than “get engaged and build a house together.” She was still finding her way as a soon-to-be married woman.
I took her by the shoulders and squeezed. “You still want to marry Nash, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. But not dressed as some virginal princess!”
“Lina, what do you think about a veil?” Naomi called from the girlie couch where Stef was modeling an eight-foot-long veil with seed pearls.
“Oh God,” Lina squeaked. “I’m either not going to survive this, or I’m going to pick a dress that I hate just to get it over with.”
“Oh boy,” I whispered as she towed me toward our friends.
Ahmad, the dress shop employee with great shoes and a surprisingly thick southern drawl, led Lina back to a dressing room while a series of unsmiling assistants paraded after them carrying five gowns that looked increasingly princessy.
Naomi sat back on the couch and took a satisfied sip of champagne.
“Why do you look so smug? She’s going to hate every single one of those dresses,” I asked, accepting the glass Stef poured me.
“I know,” Naomi said gleefully.
“Witty here has a plan,” Stef explained.
“What kind of plan?”
“The kind of plan that ends with our friend getting her perfect wedding dress,” Naomi declared.
“You’re either being cocky or diabolical,” I mused. “I can’t wait to see which one.”
“So. Hook up with any baby daddies yet?” Stef asked me.
“Geez. I literally just set up my profile. Give me a day or two to find the perfect man. Did you ask Jeremiah about moving in together yet?”
Naomi hid her smile behind a delicate cough.
Stef glared at her over the rim of his champagne.
“Oh, come on,” Naomi teased. “Tell her your latest excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. Closet space is very important to a relationship, and the man just doesn’t have enough. It would never work. My wardrobe and I have been through a lot together. It deserves a beautiful, spacious home. Not a few rolling racks next to pieces of an actual motorcycle that he took apart in the living room,” he said with a shudder.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Closet space is definitely more important than being in love and sharing your life with someone. I’m sure you can cuddle up to those suede leopard loafers at night just as easily as you can Jeremiah. You probably won’t even notice the difference.”
Naomi grinned. “See? I told you.”
Stef sniffed. “Wedding dress shopping makes you two mean.”
“Here comes our beautiful bride,” Ahmad called.
“Showtime,” Naomi said, clapping her hands.
I hit the video call button on Lina’s phone, and her mother immediately appeared on-screen.
“It’s time!” I told her.
Bonnie Solavita was seated behind an executive desk and holding a mimosa. “I’m ready!”
Lina slunk out in an ivory ballgown so wide she had to turn sideways to squeeze between two mannequins. The spaghetti straps glittered with rhinestones. The corset was tied with a pink satin ribbon. There were so many layers of tulle I had to press my lips together in order not to make a Scarlett O’Hara joke.
The bride didn’t look like she was in the mood for jokes. She looked downright miserable.
“Oh my gosh! That dress was made for you,” Naomi crooned.
“You look…amazing.” I managed to choke the words out.
“I’m…speechless,” Stef said before turning to me and mouthing “What the fuck?”
“Wow! That is some dress, sweetie,” Bonnie piped up on-screen.