Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) by Janel Gradowski Page A
Authors: Janel Gradowski
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head to the side as she scrutinized the dress.
"It fits pretty well. The straps need to be shortened a little, and I can also take the waist in a bit. Do you like the length of the skirt?"
Carla turned back around to look at her reflection in the mirror. "I think the length is good. It seems appropriate for this style…at least to me."
"You're right." Michelle nodded as she pinched the top of the loose straps that had already slipped off Carla's shoulders. "I can't help but think about the previous life of vintage clothes. I'm pretty sure this was originally a wedding dress, probably from the 1950s or early '60s. I wonder what the wedding was like. I bet the bride and groom were madly in love. Maybe they splurged on a bottle of champagne to toast the start of their marriage."
"You have a very romantic imagination. The reality could've been less rosy. Maybe they both got drunk on the champagne and ended up fighting on their wedding night." Carla smoothed the sheer, white fabric of the skirt. The poor woman would think she was altering a dress for the Bride of Frankenstein after a comment like that. "Sorry. I work in the ER, and my fiancé is a homicide detective. Sometimes we see the not-so-pleasant side of people."
"We all have a different view of life. Selling clothes is much less stressful than what you do. Drawing on my area of expertise, I can tell somebody took very good care of this dress, so I think they cherished it for a reason."
A memento of a special day that revolved around love. So much better than a reminder of an argument with a hangover chaser. Carla smiled. "I promise I will also treasure this dress. I like your tale of its possible heritage better than mine."
"And you'll be adding to the history in your own unique way." Michelle tugged at the fabric of the wide waistband. "Do you want this a little tighter?"
Carla took a deep breath. The fact that she was wearing a wedding dress hit her like a gust from a hurricane. Like a real storm, pretending the disturbance wasn't developing didn't prevent it from causing damage. She had told herself she would never marry again after her nightmare of a first marriage went up in flames faster than the cigarettes her ex-husband chain-smoked. She took another breath. The wide waistband tightened around her stomach.
"You know, the fabric is so delicate I don't want to rip it if I eat too much or try to give someone a hug. Can you just leave the waist as it is? I don't think it looks bad."
Michelle poked a pink-topped straight pin back into her fabric tomato bracelet and took a step back. "I think it looks good. Some women who have a small waist like yours want to highlight it as much as possible. Of course, they probably don't eat or do the 'Funky Chicken' dance either."
Carla chuckled. Avoiding the embarrassing dance was one good thing about cramming the guests into her loft. "Riverbend Café is catering. I will definitely be eating at my wedding. Although, I don't think there will be room for a dance floor where the reception will most likely be held, so the 'Funky Chicken' will not be on the play list for the evening."
"How is the planning going? Your friend who picked out the dresses told me about it. I think you are so brave to organize a wedding in less than a month. Most women take over a year."
"It's been an exercise in learning that what will be, will be. It's like building a beach hut on quicksand. What I want and what I can have are constantly shifting, and I'm just trying to stay afloat. Luckily my friend, Amy, does things like find you and your shop so I can wear the dress of my dreams."
"She sounds like a sweetheart." Michelle sized up the proposed alterations and nodded her head. "I think we're done. Let's get you out of this and going to wherever else you need to do today!"
Carla slipped out of the dress. The silky fabric gliding over her skin felt like cool water. Michelle was right about Amy being a great friend. Hopefully she was correct
"It fits pretty well. The straps need to be shortened a little, and I can also take the waist in a bit. Do you like the length of the skirt?"
Carla turned back around to look at her reflection in the mirror. "I think the length is good. It seems appropriate for this style…at least to me."
"You're right." Michelle nodded as she pinched the top of the loose straps that had already slipped off Carla's shoulders. "I can't help but think about the previous life of vintage clothes. I'm pretty sure this was originally a wedding dress, probably from the 1950s or early '60s. I wonder what the wedding was like. I bet the bride and groom were madly in love. Maybe they splurged on a bottle of champagne to toast the start of their marriage."
"You have a very romantic imagination. The reality could've been less rosy. Maybe they both got drunk on the champagne and ended up fighting on their wedding night." Carla smoothed the sheer, white fabric of the skirt. The poor woman would think she was altering a dress for the Bride of Frankenstein after a comment like that. "Sorry. I work in the ER, and my fiancé is a homicide detective. Sometimes we see the not-so-pleasant side of people."
"We all have a different view of life. Selling clothes is much less stressful than what you do. Drawing on my area of expertise, I can tell somebody took very good care of this dress, so I think they cherished it for a reason."
A memento of a special day that revolved around love. So much better than a reminder of an argument with a hangover chaser. Carla smiled. "I promise I will also treasure this dress. I like your tale of its possible heritage better than mine."
"And you'll be adding to the history in your own unique way." Michelle tugged at the fabric of the wide waistband. "Do you want this a little tighter?"
Carla took a deep breath. The fact that she was wearing a wedding dress hit her like a gust from a hurricane. Like a real storm, pretending the disturbance wasn't developing didn't prevent it from causing damage. She had told herself she would never marry again after her nightmare of a first marriage went up in flames faster than the cigarettes her ex-husband chain-smoked. She took another breath. The wide waistband tightened around her stomach.
"You know, the fabric is so delicate I don't want to rip it if I eat too much or try to give someone a hug. Can you just leave the waist as it is? I don't think it looks bad."
Michelle poked a pink-topped straight pin back into her fabric tomato bracelet and took a step back. "I think it looks good. Some women who have a small waist like yours want to highlight it as much as possible. Of course, they probably don't eat or do the 'Funky Chicken' dance either."
Carla chuckled. Avoiding the embarrassing dance was one good thing about cramming the guests into her loft. "Riverbend Café is catering. I will definitely be eating at my wedding. Although, I don't think there will be room for a dance floor where the reception will most likely be held, so the 'Funky Chicken' will not be on the play list for the evening."
"How is the planning going? Your friend who picked out the dresses told me about it. I think you are so brave to organize a wedding in less than a month. Most women take over a year."
"It's been an exercise in learning that what will be, will be. It's like building a beach hut on quicksand. What I want and what I can have are constantly shifting, and I'm just trying to stay afloat. Luckily my friend, Amy, does things like find you and your shop so I can wear the dress of my dreams."
"She sounds like a sweetheart." Michelle sized up the proposed alterations and nodded her head. "I think we're done. Let's get you out of this and going to wherever else you need to do today!"
Carla slipped out of the dress. The silky fabric gliding over her skin felt like cool water. Michelle was right about Amy being a great friend. Hopefully she was correct
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