“Here we are,” Claire called out cheerily, opening the door and hanging a half-dozen garments on the ornate hooks that protruded from the opposite wall. “I’ll be right back.”
Hannah gazed at the creation on the nearest hook and groaned softly. It was gorgeous, a fairytale wedding gown that was festooned with tiny pearls and expensive and intricate lace. Hannah had no doubt that it had been featured on the cover of Vogue or Brides magazine.
“I know,” Claire said, catching Hannah’s shocked expression as she came back with another armload of gowns. “I told your mother that you couldn’t wear that gown, but . . .” Claire paused as Hannah burst into laughter. “What did I say that’s so funny?”
“You said you told my mother,” Hannah repeated. “You know better than that, Claire.”
Claire smiled and looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes, I do know better. Nobody can tell your mother anything when it comes to fashion.”
“Exactly. I’ll try it on first. That’ll prove to her that you were right.”
“Do you need help with all those tiny buttons?” Claire asked, moving the gown to a closer hook.
“Probably, but there’s something I’d like you to do for me first.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to find my other glass slipper.”
Claire burst into laughter. “You’re right, Hannah. It does look like the gown Cinderella wore. Do you think your mother will admit that this gown is all wrong for you?”
“Never. But she might say that I’m all wrong for this gown.”
Claire and Hannah shared conspiratorial smiles and then Claire left the dressing room, closing the door behind her. “Just call me when you’re ready to button,” she called out, her voice muffled through the door. “I’ll be right here.”
The moment Hannah took the wedding gown off the hanger, she knew she was in trouble. The skirt had so many layers of net between the silk underskirt and the lace and pearl overskirt that it could stand up on the dressing room floor by itself. There didn’t seem to be any way she could pick it up and get it over her head by herself unless . . .
Hannah sighed as she eyed the gold velvet settee. She might be able to get into the skirt if she climbed up on the cushions and launched herself into the middle of it. But what if she missed? She might rip this obviously expensive dress.
“No,” Hannah said aloud. The gown was probably worth more than she made at The Cookie Jar in a year, and there was no way she could afford to buy it if she damaged it. Actually, she couldn’t afford to buy it anyway. She was only trying it on to prove that Delores had been wrong. Would her mother pay for an expensive, damaged wedding gown? Hannah thought about that for a moment. Yes, Delores might pay for it, but Hannah would never hear the end of it. There was no way she could take a risk like that! She hated to ask for help, but there was no other recourse.
“Claire? I can’t do this by myself.”
“I didn’t think you could.” Claire came in a split second later with a smile. “You need a dresser for this gown. Just stand over here by the settee and I’ll slip it on over your head.”
Hannah stood where Claire indicated, and Claire climbed up on the cushion with the dress and dropped it over Hannah’s head. The dress whispered down past Hannah’s upwardly stretched arms, and the silk lining slithered down into place. “Wow!” Hannah said, as the dress settled around her waist.
“It usually takes two dressers, but I’ve carried wedding gowns from day one, and I’ve gotten pretty good at doing it solo.”
“You certainly have! How in the world does a bride get into a dress like this?”
“First of all, she doesn’t get dressed in her bridal finery until she gets to the dressing room in the church.”
“But why?”
“Because you can’t get a skirt like this into a limo without crushing it. If a bride buys a dress from me, I warn her that at least two bridesmaids have to volunteer to help her dress. And then I teach the bridesmaids how to do it.”
“It’s not very comfortable,” Hannah commented as Claire jumped down from the settee and began to button up the back of the gown.
“I know. Most brides who buy an elaborate gown like this don’t care that much about comfort. They just want to look perfect for the wedding photos. Take a look, Hannah.” Claire gestured toward the mirror. “You look really good, but it’s definitely not your style.”
“You’re right. And with all this white lace, I could go snow blind. Let’s go show this off and see what Mother says. And then let’s get me out of it!”
In less time than it takes to eat a cookie, Hannah was back in the dressing room. “I told you,” she said as Claire unbuttoned the dress.