FITTING THE GOWN

"What about this one?" Rose held up a slim ivory gown with narrow straps for Francisca's inspection. She had examined racks of gowns this afternoon and had been amazed at the different styles and fabrics.

"It's a little too---i don't know." The bride shrugged her bare shoulders as she stood in the middle of the huge dressing room. "Too simple? It looks like something you would wear, not me."

"How about something like this?" Rose showed her a little gown with embroidered pink roses on the bodice. "You said you wanted flowers."

"It's okay," Francisca conceded, taking the hanger and gown. "I will try it."

The saleswoman poked her head in. "Now remember these gowns are samples. We order the one you choose in the size you need, plus we do alterations."

"The wedding's Monday," Rose told her, and watched the woman blink.

"What size is the bride?"

"Eight," Francisca replied, removing the pink bodiced gown from it's satin hanger.

"I will find our selection of eights for you to see. Would you ladies like something cold to drink?"

The saleswoman hovered at the curtained door. "I have refreshments out here in the parlor."

"Thank you," Rose called. "I think we're starting to figure out what styles she likes."

The gray-haired woman chuckled. "It's a long process, honey. Almost as long as finding the groom, so let the bride take her time. And let me know if I can help you in anyway."

"Thanks," Rose said, helping Francisca into the gown with the pink roses. "You look breathtaking," Rose said. Ever dress had looked good on Francisca, with her sunny hair and blue eyes. She was shorter than her aunt, and curvier, too. Rose waited for Francisca's reaction as she studied herself in the enormous three-way mirror.

"Not bad," the bride declared, lifting her hair up on her head to see what the neckline looked like.

"It's lovely, and you could carry pink roses."

"I wanted yellow," Francisca said, smoothing the puffy skirt. "I've been practicing making yellow roses with frosting for the cake."

"I will see if they have something like it in yellow."

"With thinner straps?" Francisca looked as if she was about to cry as she turned away from the mirror and looked at her aunt. "And a skirt that's not so, well, full? I feel like a fool."

"Honey, What's wrong?"

"Oh, Aunt Roro," she wailed before bursting into tears. "I don't know!"

"Nerves," the saleswoman said from the other side of the curtain. "It happens all the time, honey."

The curtain parted a few inches as the woman shoved a handful of tissues into the room. Rose took them to her niece. Francisca wept into the tissues for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and then blowing her nose.

"Let's get you out of that dress," Rose suggested. "I think we'd better take up that offer of a drink."

Francisca nodded and wrapped herself in the floral robe provided by Gwen's Gowns. The parlor was a nook around the corner, with wicker chairs and tables. A plate of cookies, bottled tea, a sterling ice bucket, crystal tumblers and a fifth of whiskey sat on a nearby tea carts.

"Sit down, ladies," Gwen said, uncapping the whiskey. She gave Rose a sympathetic smile as she lifted the bottle. "Sometimes the mothers need a little shoring up. Would you like some?"

"Just tea for me." Francisca sniffed, but Rose asked for whiskey on ice. Maybe the sight of those wedding gowns had made her edgy. She wanted to weep along with her niece, but she didn't have the slightest clue why.

"Here you go," Gwen said, serving the drinks before pulling a tapestry-covered stool closer and sitting down. "Sometimes all these choices are too confusing and you have to calm down." She eyed Rose. "Are you the maid of honor?"

"Yes."

"She's my aunt," Francisca supplied. "Size ten."

"And you need a dress," Gwen said. "Do you have any special color in mind?"

Rose looked at her niece "Do I?"

Francisca took another sip of her tea and looked as if she was trying very hard not to cry again. "Any color is fine, as long as it's not too practical."

She turned to Gwen. "My aunt is very conservative."

"Not really," Rose protested, taking a large to swallow of her drink. She had no objection to wearing a drop-dead-gorgeous dress to the wedding.

"I have just the thing." Gwen handed Rose the plate of cookies and walked to the other side of the room. She searched through a rack of pastel dresses until she found what she wanted. "Here," she said, holding out a pale green slip dress. "This subdued shade of Jade would be lovely with your coloring. It's a popular color this summer and would go with the yellow the bride prefers." She peered at the tag. "It's a twelve, but this particular company needs to run small."

"Go for it, Aunt Roro," Francisca said.

"Okay," she said, tempted by the simple long sheath. Maybe she could find one of those Victorian-style necklaces to go with it. And pearl sandals with three-inch heels.

Gwen beamed. "I will put it in the dressing room for you." She scurried off, giving Rose an opportunity to find out exactly why Francisca was sniffing into a tissue.

"Francisca for heaven's sake, what's the matter?"

*****

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