Changing Habits: A Short Story (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery) by Alice Loweecey Page B

earmarked for the elusive, frustrating, impossible wedding gown saved her.
    A hand-lettered sign pointed to a door in the back: Vintage Clothing 1800-1940. She followed it.
    The gown hung on a wicker dress form in the center of the room. Eggshell satin with a diamond-shaped lace insert in the center over the stomach. A V neckline with a modest plunge. Satin sleeves with smaller lace insets. A little scoop of a train.
    Giulia came toward it, both hands out to touch the satin. The skirt flowed through her hands like water. She realized she was holding her breath.
    It won’t be my size. The pits will be stained. And smelly. It’ll cost a thousand dollars.
    She walked out of the room and straight to the counter with its 1930s cash register.
    When the white-haired man behind it set down his cell phone, she said, “Good evening. Could you tell me about the wedding gown on the dress form?”
    “I can’t, but my daughter can.” He reached over to a small speaker on the wall and pressed the button beneath it. “Maggie, got a lady about the clothes room.”
    A tinny voice replied, “Be right down.”
    A minute later, an elegant middle-aged woman in a navy business suit came into the shop. “Caught me before I shed the Daily Grind getup. What can I show you?”
    “The satin wedding gown.”
    “Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m too much of an Amazon to squeeze into it or it’d be all mine. If I ever stuck my neck in the marriage noose again, that is.” She appraised Giulia. “You’re a… twelve? Hard to tell under that coat.”
    Giulia nodded. “Yes, twelve.” She tried to keep hope out of her eyes as she stood before the dress again.
    If the woman saw through her, she didn’t let on. “Here’s the details: The dress is from 1938, originally that color, silk satin and Shetland lace. The tiny covered buttons hide a zipper. A detachable bustle was originally part of it, but it ripped and the dress was retooled with the miniature train you see now. It’s been professionally restored and the lace in the sleeves re-knitted by a little old lady who only touched it on Sundays.” She laughed.
    Giulia steeled herself. “Give me the bad news.”
    “Three seventy-five.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    The woman laughed again. “No, really. It’s beautiful but delicate. Women tend to want a wedding dress they can party all night in. This one won’t take a beating.”
    “You’re trying to talk me out of it.”
    “Cross my heart I’m not. This is the full disclosure part of my sales pitch.” She appraised Giulia again. “Want me to help you try it on?”
    Twenty minutes later, the old man swiped Giulia’s credit card through the reader attached to the old-fashioned cash register. She signed the slip of paper and the woman came out with a four-foot by two-foot box held closed with silver duct tape.
    “I put the business card of the dress restorer in the box. They might be able to find lace that’s a close enough match.”
    “For what?” Giulia said.
    “To make the veil.”
    Giulia grinned at her. “This is one bride who’s not wearing a veil.”

II

      
    Frank Driscoll arrived at Driscoll Investigations’ frosted glass door as Giulia inserted her key into the lock.
    “Good morning, soon-to-be-wife.”
    “Good morning, soon-to-be-husband whose haircut looks both practical and sexy.”
    “I have skills.”
    They entered the office together, Giulia turning on lights and Frank playing back messages. After the first, he said, “That deadbeat dad we tracked down threatened to sue us. His wife says she’ll pay the first installment of our bill when her next paycheck clears.”
    Giulia opened emails. “A local insurance company wants us to find out if a claim is legitimate.”
    “Nice. Can we squeeze in an initial meeting this week?”
    “Let me check.” She scrolled through their appointments. “Not till Thursday.”
    The other line rang.
    “Driscoll Investigations,” Giulia said in her best admin voice.
    “Good