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“Does the other one come in white?” Posey asks.
“Too much lace,” Ethel says.
I look at Brena through the mirror. “Okay, we’ll be back with option number three.”
On the way back to the changing room, Brena shakes her head at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know how you brides with big families do it. When I get married, I’m picking one person to come with me, and it’ll probably be my fiancé.” She laughs. “Or Thad.”
We laugh, and I slide out of dress option two into dress option three, which is a white mermaid style but also has a long skirt that wraps around. It’s not champagne nor is it white, but maybe off-white.
The minute I step out, Ethel groans. “Another nonwhite dress?”
“I love it,” Ursula says. “Really shows off that figure my son loves so much.” She winks at me through the mirror, and I see the resemblance to Noah right away.
“I agree with Ursula, sweetie. I think I like this one the best,” my mom says.
“Agreed,” all three of my sisters say in unison.
I stare at myself in the mirror a little more. Brena gives me a veil to wear, pulling the entire look together. Oh my god, I’m going to marry a practical stranger. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
“Do you think this might be it?” Brena whispers to me.
“I do. I never thought I’d love my figure as much as I do in this dress.”
“It definitely flatters you,” she says.
“Sold then.” I nod and give her a big smile.
I go back and change into my own clothes, and she sets me up with an alteration appointment to make sure the dress will be ready for the wedding since it’s short notice.
“I look good in black,” Chevelle says.
“But I look best in green,” Posey says. “And since redheads are harder to find something that works for, I say we go with my color. You’re both blondes, and green will flatter you guys as well.”
“No way. Let’s do something bold, like red,” Nikki says.
Each of them has a dress pulled off the rack and is holding it up to them. Posey looks funny because her large belly protrudes so much the fabric flows over it.
“Mandi?” they all ask in unison, looking at me.
“You can each have your way. We’ll do no specific color,” Dori says. “In my day, it was done all the time.”
“Red, green, and black?” I raise an eyebrow. “Those are colors for a flag, not an array of bridesmaids.”
“This way everyone gets their own style and color, and they can wear it again,” Dori says, then walks over to the short dress Chevelle has in her hands. “Did you see this price? We could do them for you. Our sewing club at the Northern Lights is amazing.”
“Really? That would save some money,” Chevelle says.
I understand where she’s coming from. While Nikki married a millionaire, pro-MMA fighter and Posey married a childhood actor worth millions, Chevelle and I are both single and putting everything we have into our businesses.
I shrug. “Sure, if you think they could get them done on time.”
Dori waves me off. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if they couldn’t. They’ll love it.”
“Okay, but let’s decide on one design and one color,” I say.
