Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride by Sandra D. Bricker Page B
Authors: Sandra D. Bricker
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will suit you to a tee."
Emma jumped to her feet hopefully. "Will you show us?"
She took Sherilyn by the wrist, and they filed up the stairs behind the young woman whose nametag dubbed her Sarah.
When they reached the top landing, Sarah turned back to them and smiled at Sherilyn.
"It's a vintage design, circa 1960," she explained. "Fitted bodice with short lace sleeves, A-line satin skirt, empire waist with a ruched sash that ties in the back with a long bow. Very simple, very classic, a beautiful shade of antique ivory."
She was almost afraid to ask the question, but before she allowed her enthusiasm to grow another centimenter . . .
"What size?"
Sarah went straight to it and plucked the hanger from a dozen others. She fluffed the simple skirt out toward them and displayed the dress. "I think this will fit you."
"Are you sure?"
Fee ran her hand along the skirt. "Dude, this is a killer dress."
"Really? You think so?" Sherilyn asked. It was a bit plain, but then . . . if it fit . . .
"Yes. Size twelve," Sarah told them.
Brightening, she asked Fee, "You really like it?"
"I want to buy it, and I'm not even engaged."
"It is in my size," she reasoned aloud.
"Sher, don't choose what fits you. Choose what you love, and we'll go from there."
"Let's get you into a dressing room and see what it looks like on you," Sarah suggested.
And the moment that she slipped into the dress, no trouble zipping it at all, Sherilyn gasped through the fingers that covered her mouth. Her eyes popped open wide, and she let out a soft coo of ecstasy at the sight of herself in the mirror.
It fits! Oh, thank God!
"This is it."
"It's perfect," Sherilyn purred, and she reached across the table and squeezed Andy's hand. "After something like twentyfive dresses, I finally found it. Right here in Atlanta, tucked away in the vintage section upstairs. Simple and sweet, and it's just my size. Seriously, it fit like a glove!"
"Right there, waiting for you," Andy said with a smile.
"Yes. And I like it so much better than any of the others in my size, even my AWOL dress from Chicago!"
He watched her as she sighed and leaned back into her chair. It was the closest thing to peace that he'd seen in Sherilyn since they'd arrived in Atlanta. And all it took was a dress.
"I should go up and look in on Russell," he commented, and she popped to attention again.
"No. Not yet. Give dinner time to digest or something. Let's at least have a cup of coffee together." His expression apparently gave her the idea she'd have to fight for her cause, and she switched to a different tack. "We've had no time together lately." She traced around his fingers on the tablecloth, and then caressed his hand with her thumb. "Can't we just enjoy it a few more minutes?"
Andy smiled just as the waitress approached the table. "Anything else for you? Would you like to see the dessert cart?"
"No, thank you," he replied. "But how about a couple of cappuccinos?"
"Certainly."
"Thank you." Sherilyn's grin lit up the immediate vicinity like a Roman candle. "So tell me about your job. You've hardly mentioned it. What do you think of the place?"
"It's fine, I suppose. Very different from where I've been, that's for sure."
"How so?"
"I'm used to a much faster pace. Most of my time was spent at the hospital with surgeries and consults and on-call. I only took appointments two days a week in the afternoon."
"A little more relaxed can be good, right?" she asked.
"I thought so." Did he dare tell her the truth? That he missed Chicago? He missed the job, the people, the pork sandwiches at The Boundary.
"Well, it's just a matter of adjustment, right?" she asked hopefully.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure it is."
"You're not having second thoughts, right?"
He held still, mid-shrug. The concern showed a little in those tell-all eyes of hers.
"It's going to be fine," he reassured her. "It's just a matter of getting into a routine. What about you? How are things here?"
"Same
Emma jumped to her feet hopefully. "Will you show us?"
She took Sherilyn by the wrist, and they filed up the stairs behind the young woman whose nametag dubbed her Sarah.
When they reached the top landing, Sarah turned back to them and smiled at Sherilyn.
"It's a vintage design, circa 1960," she explained. "Fitted bodice with short lace sleeves, A-line satin skirt, empire waist with a ruched sash that ties in the back with a long bow. Very simple, very classic, a beautiful shade of antique ivory."
She was almost afraid to ask the question, but before she allowed her enthusiasm to grow another centimenter . . .
"What size?"
Sarah went straight to it and plucked the hanger from a dozen others. She fluffed the simple skirt out toward them and displayed the dress. "I think this will fit you."
"Are you sure?"
Fee ran her hand along the skirt. "Dude, this is a killer dress."
"Really? You think so?" Sherilyn asked. It was a bit plain, but then . . . if it fit . . .
"Yes. Size twelve," Sarah told them.
Brightening, she asked Fee, "You really like it?"
"I want to buy it, and I'm not even engaged."
"It is in my size," she reasoned aloud.
"Sher, don't choose what fits you. Choose what you love, and we'll go from there."
"Let's get you into a dressing room and see what it looks like on you," Sarah suggested.
And the moment that she slipped into the dress, no trouble zipping it at all, Sherilyn gasped through the fingers that covered her mouth. Her eyes popped open wide, and she let out a soft coo of ecstasy at the sight of herself in the mirror.
It fits! Oh, thank God!
"This is it."
"It's perfect," Sherilyn purred, and she reached across the table and squeezed Andy's hand. "After something like twentyfive dresses, I finally found it. Right here in Atlanta, tucked away in the vintage section upstairs. Simple and sweet, and it's just my size. Seriously, it fit like a glove!"
"Right there, waiting for you," Andy said with a smile.
"Yes. And I like it so much better than any of the others in my size, even my AWOL dress from Chicago!"
He watched her as she sighed and leaned back into her chair. It was the closest thing to peace that he'd seen in Sherilyn since they'd arrived in Atlanta. And all it took was a dress.
"I should go up and look in on Russell," he commented, and she popped to attention again.
"No. Not yet. Give dinner time to digest or something. Let's at least have a cup of coffee together." His expression apparently gave her the idea she'd have to fight for her cause, and she switched to a different tack. "We've had no time together lately." She traced around his fingers on the tablecloth, and then caressed his hand with her thumb. "Can't we just enjoy it a few more minutes?"
Andy smiled just as the waitress approached the table. "Anything else for you? Would you like to see the dessert cart?"
"No, thank you," he replied. "But how about a couple of cappuccinos?"
"Certainly."
"Thank you." Sherilyn's grin lit up the immediate vicinity like a Roman candle. "So tell me about your job. You've hardly mentioned it. What do you think of the place?"
"It's fine, I suppose. Very different from where I've been, that's for sure."
"How so?"
"I'm used to a much faster pace. Most of my time was spent at the hospital with surgeries and consults and on-call. I only took appointments two days a week in the afternoon."
"A little more relaxed can be good, right?" she asked.
"I thought so." Did he dare tell her the truth? That he missed Chicago? He missed the job, the people, the pork sandwiches at The Boundary.
"Well, it's just a matter of adjustment, right?" she asked hopefully.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure it is."
"You're not having second thoughts, right?"
He held still, mid-shrug. The concern showed a little in those tell-all eyes of hers.
"It's going to be fine," he reassured her. "It's just a matter of getting into a routine. What about you? How are things here?"
"Same
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