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Harley stood and started walking around the barn. “The way it looks right now, with the lights, it’s perfect. We only really need to add a trellis and altar and places for people to sit.”
She spun around and looked at me. “Hay bales. With blankets on them!”
I smiled. “I love that idea.”
Chewing on her lip, she started walking again. “We could set up tents outside for the reception if Lori and her folks agree to it.”
Her phone beeped with a text. When she read it, a huge grin spread across her face.
“What did she say?”
She flipped the phone for me to see it.
Paxton: May 26. Two weeks. It’s doable.
We both looked at each other.
“Two weeks.”
“What about a dress?” I asked.
Tears filled her eyes. “That’s not a problem.”
“The cake and food?”
“That’s not a problem!” Lori shouted as she rushed in. “I can take care of all of that.”
Harley and I stood there, staring at Lori.
“Sorry! I couldn’t help but overhear y’all. I was walking back to get my phone! I left it in the tack room.”
“Lori, y’all are okay with this? We’ll keep it small, family and friends only.”
“Are you kidding? Yes! My mother is going to be over the moon. Do you know how much fun she had setting this up today for y’all? She was already making plans for the wedding. I think my mother just found a new job…event planning!”
“This is it, then. We’re getting married in two weeks!” Harley exclaimed, jumping up and down along with Lori.
I leaned back against one of the stalls as I watched my future bride running around with the possible future mayor of Oak Springs. Both of them acting like two little girls blurting out ideas and squealing in delight after each one.
Best fucking day of my life.
I stood with Waylynn on one side and Paxton on the other. The three of us stared down at an old trunk my mother was trying to get unlocked.
“How old is the dress?” Waylynn asked in a whisper.
I was positive my look of horror answered her question.
“It’s going to be okay. Vintage is…in…right now,” Paxton added.
Waylynn and I turned at her. I snarled as she shrugged. “What? It is!” she softly said.
“Gosh darn it. Why won’t this thing unlock?”
“It’s a sign!” Waylynn declared as Paxton reached around and hit her.
My mother twisted and tugged on the padlock.
“Mom, honestly, I can buy a dress.”
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I know the second you see your great-grandmother’s dress you’ll love it.”
“Great-grandmother?” Waylynn gasped. She pulled me and Paxton back and out of earshot of my mother.
“That means it’s going to cover you from head to toe. Like…one of those dresses that buttoned all the way up the neck, complete with a chastity belt!”
My fingers brushed over my neck as I swallowed hard.
“Look at your figure! You have boobs! Hips! Skin that looks like the sun god himself kissed you. We cannot have you in an old timey gown. It’s got to be against your Latino roots!”
Paxton nodded. “I agree, not necessarily with the whole Latino roots thing.” She shot Waylynn a weary look. “I think it’s time to tell your mom you want to buy a gown.”
I took in a shaky breath. “Crap. I guess I have to break the news to her.”
“You do!” Waylynn added.
Paxton took my hands in hers. “You can do this. Remember, it’s your wedding and you’ve waited a long time for this day.”
Chewing on my lip, I closed my eyes and dug deep down for the courage to tell my mother I wasn’t wearing Great-Grandma Rose’s wedding gown.
“I got it!” my mother exclaimed.
“We’re too late!” Waylynn whimpered, her hands running down her face as she let out a groan.
The three of us walked toward the old trunk like something evil was going to jump out at any second. My breath caught in my throat as my mom opened the trunk. We all gasped.
“What is that?” Paxton exclaimed.
“It’s beautiful,” Waylynn and I both said at once.
The light-gold lace caught my eye first. Small pearls were hand sewn into it, with a different pattern lining the sweetheart neckline and the shoulder straps.
My mother pulled the dress out, letting the champagne-colored tulle fall to the floor.
“Goodness, how long is this train?” Paxton asked, gathering the fabric up in her hands.
“Grandma Rose had exquisite taste. She had fashioned a designer in Paris make this one-of-a-kind gown. Of course, because she was ahead of her time, it was considered risqué.”
I stared at the beautiful vintage gown. “Momma, why didn’t you wear this for your wedding?”
She chuckled. “When my mother showed it to me, I fell in love with it. Tried it on, and it didn’t fit. I was heartbroken and refused to let my mother take it in somewhere and have it altered. So we tucked it back in this trunk and I’ve waited until the day you told me you were getting married to take it out.”
