“Breast cancer,” the woman whispered. “My insurance wouldn’t cover reconstruction, and so . . .” She winced, studying the dresses. “Nothing looks right. Nothing fits right. And the bride is a nice young woman, but she thinks I should be able to walk in here and get a suitable gown and it will be okay. And of course it won’t.”
“Of course it will.” Tara added punch to the words with a soft call to Maisy working in the first alterations room. As Maisy strode forward in her typical take-no-prisoners style, Tara reached out a hand. “This is Maisy. Maisy, this is Mrs. Dreschler. We need your expertise to tell us which styles will work with post-surgical mastectomy, and how we can establish a normal and comfortable curve for her son’s wedding day.”
Mrs. Dreschler stared at her, then Maisy in turn. “You can really do this? I know they sell prosthetic devices, but my skin is too sensitive after the radiation. Most days I don’t care,” she added. “My husband doesn’t care. He’s just thankful I’m alive. And my family understands, but for this occasion”—she stressed the last two words—“I want to look and feel normal. Just for one day.”
And what did tough, drill-sergeant Maisy do? She reached right down and hauled Mrs. Dreschler out of the chair. “Toss off that coat, dearie. What size are you normally? A ten? Twelve?”
“Twelve, yes.” The groom’s mother didn’t dare say no to Maisy. No one did. She removed the coat and draped it on the chair. Maisy gave her a once-over, then a crisp nod.
“Good shoulders, that helps! And they cut these dresses small, a man’s choice, no doubt, utter foolishness. So let’s try some twelves and fourteens, because I can trim as needed.” She handed Tara pretty gowns in rapid-fire fashion. “This, this, this, and this. And that.” She pointed to the rack behind Tara. “And the gold too.”
She turned back to Mrs. Dreschler. “Tara’s going to take you into my fitting room. I’ve got some wonderful ways of doing just what you want, but you’ve got to trust me to know my stuff!”
Maisy’s take-charge attitude and self-confidence worked wonders. Mrs. Dreschler picked up her coat, laid it over her arm, and faced Tara. “Lead the way.”
Within minutes they’d picked a flowing, blouson gown with tacked, pleated shoulders. The looser fit was perfect for the woman’s sensitive skin. With a bit of clever engineering using alteration supplies on hand, Maisy was able to build the look of a normal woman’s chest beneath the gown.
“I don’t believe it.” Mrs. Dreschler caught sight of herself in the triple mirror and sighed. Tears filled her eyes, but they were happy tears this time. “When Mandy said you folks would help me, I thought she was being pushy. She wasn’t.” She fingered the soft pleats that allowed the top of the gown to fall stylishly, skimming instead of clinging. “This is perfect.”
“Well, good!” Maisy beamed. “And, dearie, you look wonderful!”
“I do.” Mrs. Dreschler’s smile of disbelief widened. “I really do.”
Tara chatted with her as she bagged and tagged the gown, then hung it near Maisy’s sewing area for the necessary adjustments. As they approached the front, Mrs. Dreschler gave her a spontaneous hug. “Thank you.” She whispered the words, emotion clogging her voice again. “This means the world to me.”
The past three years of study and testing and argument flashed through Tara’s mind. She’d done what she thought was right, but this—helping this woman, working at this delightful shop, surrounded by ribbons and lace—this was what felt right.
She left Mrs. Dreschler in Kathy’s capable hands to ring up the sale, moved back to bridal, and ran smack into Greg around the corner. He caught her shoulders to keep her from falling, then didn’t let go.
She looked up and met his gaze. Appreciation and approval brightened those big brown eyes. He flicked a glance toward the front and gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “That was a nice thing you did.”
“Maisy, mostly.”
His face said yes and no. “Teamwork is vital in a hands-on business like this. I don’t know much about bridal, per se, but I know business, and what you and Maisy just did was wonderful, Tara.”
“Thank you.” She kept her eyes locked on his. Greg’s grip changed slightly, and the look on his face changed too. He glanced at her mouth as if wondering, and she had to work hard to step back, away from the growing temptation of Greg Elizondo. “Did you come to help shift things around?”
His expression said he recognized her ploy, but his smile said they might revisit things later. The fact that she liked the idea meant she needed to keep her distance.
“I needed measurements for the tuxedo dressing rooms and the hanging racks for displays. Then Kathy and I are interviewing people to staff the tuxedo area. I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?” She moved toward the bridesmaids’ racks to replace gowns they’d pulled for earlier customers.
“Can I buy you supper again tonight? After we close up? It’s been almost a week, and you must be hungry again.”
A cozy late evening with Greg? Her heart said yes instantly. Her head reminded her why this was a really bad idea. “I should go straight home.”