Chapter 30
Ismeralda
With Mindy’s help, I plan a wedding in less than forty-eight hours. After I learned that we’d have to wait six months if we want to get married at the dude ranch, I insist that we get married now. I’ve fallen in love with this place and want to get married here. Let the media and everyone speculate why we’re sprinting to the altar. I know the real reason—we’re head over heels in love.
Each one of our guests accepts the invitation, and we schedule the ceremony for the following week, when the weekend guests clear out of most of the cabins. We’ll have a Wednesday sunset ceremony at the Double Trouble chapel. Turns out Jethro is a pastor, so he’s going to perform the nuptials. There’s a trail ride on Thursday or a fly-fishing class if the guests prefer that option, followed by the Cowboy Buffet and campfire. I should be stressed out by the short timeline, but strangely I’m not.
“What do you think of this dress?” I ask Sofia, who agreed to be my maid of honor. She flew in early to help me. We’re at a little boutique in Spanish Fork, the only option if we don’t want to drive to Salt Lake City.
Sofia taps her cheek. “It looks adorable on you, but do you think pink is an appropriate color?”
The ankle-length dress is gorgeous, with beading and lace on the bodice, it’s just the right style that’s casual yet dressy. It fits me like a glove and I’m in love with it. Except for the color.
Frowning, I say, “Pink isn’t ideal. I’d love to wear traditional white.”
Sofia scurries off in search of the shop owner and returns with a dumpy-looking middle-aged man at her side. This guy owns a dress boutique?
“That looks great on you. What’s the problem?” he grumbles.
With this grouchy outlook, obviously he’s not into customer service. I guess you can be a grump when your shop is the only game in town.
“I’m getting married. I want a white dress, not a pink one.”
He stares at me for a few seconds, then snaps his fingers. “Aren’t you that makeup gal who got herself kidnapped in Denver? How long were you held? What was the ransom amount?” he asks, an interested expression lighting his eyes.
“There was no ransom. My bodyguard/fiancé found me and rescued me. I was locked in a janitor’s closet, not kidnapped.”
His face falls. “Well, that’s not what I heard. I heard your man had to pay fifty grand to get you returned safely.”
My eyes widen. He doesn’t believe me? I was there.
“That’s fake news,” I reply.
“The other story is better,” he grouses. “You should go with that one. Sell the rights to Hollywood for a movie.”
Sofia’s shoulders shake with laughter.
Does he not care about the truth?
“Can you get this dress in white before Friday?” I ask, ignoring his comments about the Denver attack.
He crosses his arms over his pot belly. “Nope. Even those FedEx guys can’t get it here before that. I have to order it all the way from California.”
Has he never heard of expedited shipping?
My hope rises despite his negative attitude. I have contacts in California; maybe they can ship me a version in white.
“Thank you. I’ll keep looking,” I say, and he shuffles away.
“What a Debby Downer! Considering it’s a two-thousand-dollar dress, he wasn’t very interested in helping, was he?” Sofia says.
“No, he wasn’t,” I say as I get out of the dress, then take a picture with my cell of all the tags as well as the dress itself hanging on the hanger. “I just happen to know some people in California. Let’s see if one of them can help me.” I say to her with a wink.
Sofia drives back to the ranch while I place my phone call.
“Kat! This is Ismeralda Harrington. I have a favor to ask,” I say. I’m guessing she’ll be very helpful considering I didn’t press charges against her sister. Turns out that was a good decision after all.
We talk for a few minutes, I text her the dress photos, and then hang up.
“Well?” Sofia asks.
A broad smile lights my face. “She even knows the designer. I’m betting I’ll have that dress by tomorrow.”
“Excellent! I’m glad we don’t have to drive to Salt Lake. That gives me more time to prepare my tamales for the reception dinner.”
“Thank you for doing that. Your tamales are the best Gabe or I have ever tasted.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
I feel like this woman has become my friend, and I never would have met her without the stalker. It’s ironic how Gabe took all those back roads to avoid my pursuer, when it turned out we were actually being followed by the Berringers.
I shake my head at the surreal situation. Stalked by the sister of a cosmetics mogul... Followed by a retired couple who thought they were tracking Martha Stewart for the Celebrity Detection Network... All the while falling in love with my James Bond–esque bodyguard...
The shop owner is right, this sounds like a Hollywood movie.
Our wedding is going to be a reunion of all the quirky characters Gabe and I met on the book tour cross country road trip. I can’t wait.