Chapter 9: The Champagne Dress That Crossed the Floor
The ballroom didn't move after he said it was for the donors. The chandeliers kept throwing that warm gold light down onto the marble, and the white floral wall behind me seemed too bright to look at. I could feel the envelope in my hand, the edge of it soft against my palm, and I didn't open it. I didn't need to yet.
His mother hadn't let go of his sister's wrist. That was the first thing I noticed when my eyes finally left him. The older woman's hand was clasped tight around the younger woman's forearm, her knuckles pale against the navy lace of her own sleeve, and the younger woman in the champagne satin was staring at me like she was trying to decide if she could breathe.
The younger woman pulled her arm free. Not hard. Just a slow slide until her skin slipped from under those fingers. Her mother made a small sound, not a word.
Then she stepped away from the floral wall.
Her heels clicked once, twice on the polished marble as she crossed the space between them and me. The champagne dress caught the light differently than the navy lace, lighter and looser, and when she stopped she wasn't beside her mother anymore. She was beside me, close enough that I could see the faint tremor in her shoulders and smell her perfume, something clean and a little sweet.
She didn't look at her brother first. She looked at me.
"Isabella," she said, quiet. "Can I stand here?"
I nodded. I couldn't get a full sentence out. My throat was still tight from holding that zipper.
She turned her body slightly so she was facing them both, her mother and her brother, with me at her shoulder. Her hands were clasped in front of her now, fingers twisting together.
"I drove her," she said. Her voice shook but she didn't stop. "Four nights ago. After the final fitting when your alterations team said the lace was being donated. I drove Isabella back to the boutique on County Road 9. The owner stayed late."
The older woman's face tightened. "What are you talking about?"
"The crystal gown," the younger woman said, faster now. "She didn't cut it up. The seamstress built the zipper into it. So Isabella could wear her dress underneath and get it back when she was ready. I sat in the parking lot and waited. I kept the secret because she asked me to."
I felt my eyes sting. I had asked her not to tell anyone, not even after she'd seen me crying in that fitting room with the crystal skirt piled around me like armor that wasn't mine. She'd just nodded and held my hand in the car.
The older woman took a step forward, but she didn't come closer to us. She stayed near the flowers, her navy lace dark against all that white.
"Do you understand what you're doing?" she said to her daughter, and her voice was low and controlled, the way you'd speak to someone who was about to make a mistake at a charity gala. "You are jeopardizing this family in front of every person we invited here. Our standing. His foundation. Everything we've built. You will not be thanked for this."
The younger woman flinched but she didn't move back.
"I watched her shrink for months," she said. She wasn't loud. She didn't need to be. The ballroom was so quiet I could hear the faint hum of the chandeliers. "At the dress appointments. At the tastings where you ordered for her. At the rehearsal when you told her to smile smaller for the photographers. I watched it and I didn't say anything. I won't watch it again."
Her brother stared at her. His bow tie was still perfectly straight, his pocket square still folded, but his face had gone slack.
"She's my sister," he said, like that explained something.
"And she's the woman you said you loved," the younger woman answered. "You don't get to pick which one of us you listen to only when it's convenient."
The older woman's hands were clasped again now, tight against her stomach. For the first time since I'd walked out in that crystal-covered gown, she looked alone against that wall of flowers. The space where her daughter had stood was empty.
May you like
I didn't reach for the younger woman's hand, but I shifted my weight so our shoulders were almost touching. The lace of my sleeve brushed the satin of hers. It was the first time all night I didn't feel like I was standing by myself on that marble floor.
The younger woman stayed right there, between me and them, and the envelope stayed closed in my hand.
