Chapter 23
23
I t was an hour before I needed to be at the chapel again, and nothing seemed right.
I turned sideways in the mirror on my closet door and frowned at my reflection. Normally, I didn’t fret over what dress I was serving cake in, because my job wasn’t to stand out. Tonight, though, I wasn’t crazy about the gray sweater dress and black flats I had pulled from my stockpile of rather boring clothes, none of which seemed to suit a classy winter wedding or how I was feeling.
And no matter how much I denied it, I knew part of what I was feeling was because I wanted to impress Connor tonight.
Correction. I didn’t want to just impress Connor. I wanted to knock his socks off.
Just the fact I’d admitted that to myself was a big step.
I sighed and picked at the collar of the dress, the scoop neckline doing nothing for me. No way was a gray sweater dress going to do the job. My doorbell rang, and I glanced at my bedside clock and frowned.
“Who on earth could that be?” I spoke aloud to my orange and white cat, Peppermint, who meowed softly in answer before closing her eyes again.
Well, she was no help at all. I’d barely made it to the hallway before the pounding started.
“I’m coming!” I yelled. “Hold on!”
I was taken aback when I opened the door and found Ella standing on my porch, grinning like a loon.
“Hey, girl! I’ve got something for you.” She held up a garment bag and shook it at me. “It’s the dress you’re wearing tonight.”
How had she known I’d be judging myself right now? Because she was my best friend, and she knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. I looked down at my drab and colorless selection. “Um, I already have on a dress.”
“That thing? Nope. No way.” Ella pushed past me into my little house, not even stopping in the entry, passing through the living room on her way to my bedroom as she held up the garment bag like a war trophy. “This is your day to shine, Ivy. You are not wearing that ugly thing to the wedding.”
“It’s not ugly,” I lied as I strolled into the bedroom. “Peppermint likes it. Don’t you, Peppermint?”
My cat looked up from her nap, yawned, then decided licking her front paw held much more interest than anything I might do or say.
“See, even your cat is unimpressed,” Ella said, one eyebrow raised.
I snorted. “Peppermint is a cat. What does she know about fashion?”
The orange and white furred princess looked up and hissed.
“Okay. Okay.” I raised my hands and laughed. “I take it back.”
“Models don’t walk down a dog walk, Ivy,” Ella joked. “They walk down a cat walk. It’s called that for a reason. Isn’t that right, Peppermint?”
But my feline companion was done with us. This time, she didn’t even bother with a response.
Ella hadn’t waited for one anyway, already unzipping the garment bag and letting it fall to the floor. While I gasped and clutched my hand to my neck, because there was no comparison to the dress I now wore and what she held up for my approval.
“Wow! That’s gorgeous.” Bright red. Silky and swaying. Sweetheart neckline. And a hem that was a couple of inches above what I would normally wear. Her choice in a dress was about as far from what mine would have been under usual circumstances as it could be. So, why then did my mind whisper, do it!
“And it’s perfect for Valentine’s Day,” Ella said, a note of triumph in her voice. “Does your best friend have great taste or what ?”
I reached out and ran my hand lightly down the soft, red lace that covered the entire dress. There was no doubt if I put it on that it would hug every curve I had and maybe add some I didn’t. “I’ll never be able to breathe in it.” That excuse fell flat, even on my ears. “Much less serve cake in it.”
“Yes, you can.” She shook it at me again. “And yes, you will. I’d bet good money you could do the tango in this dress.” When I opened my mouth to protest further, Ella shoved the dress at me with a finality that decided the matter. “Humor me. At least try it on, Ivy. Then maybe we can see if we can find some lucky guy to tango with you.”
I hesitated one more moment before taking the hanger from her and retreating to my bathroom. I’d put the beautiful—but entirely not my style—dress on and prove to her how silly it would be to show up at a wedding in a fancy thing like that, just to serve cake to over two hundred guests.
And just to impress a man.
I’d zipped it up and was just smoothing the dress over my hips when Ella grew too impatient to wait and walked into my bathroom without knocking. Her eyes widened… hopefully in appreciation and not just in shock.
Because I was shocked. And secretly very, very pleased.
“You look gorgeous, Ivy,” she said, turning me this way and that to take a good look. “Fits like a glove, I knew it. Absolutely stunning on you.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, and I had to admit, she was right. I felt like someone had taken me and polished me to a shine. Who was this smiling woman in the mirror? I’d been used to being the quiet one, and the one who kept the peace and was happy to stay in the background.
This woman was gorgeous. She looked confident and vibrant.
“You don’t think it’s too impractical?” I whispered, running my hands down my sides.
I got a snort in response. “Don’t be silly. It’s perfect.”
I touched my hair. I’d just gathered it in a low, practical ponytail, like always. Not at all suitable for the current dress I was wearing.
Ella instantly understood my unspoken thoughts. “I’ll take care of it.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, my hair has to be up since I’m serving food.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “I know that, of course. Now, just trust me, okay?”
I smiled and made the instant decision to do just that. “Okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, through the magic of a curling iron and some hairpins, I stared yet again at the woman in the mirror and couldn’t believe my eyes. Ella had pulled my hair into some sort of fancy updo. She hadn’t stopped there, either, whipping out a small bag full of makeup. Grinning wickedly the entire time, she’d added eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss to my face.
The woman peering back at me had been subtly accented in a way that highlighted my eyes and cheekbones, without looking like I was overdone. I made a mental note to ask Ella what sort of products and magic she’d used to get this effect, in case I wanted to try to duplicate it sometime in the future. Updos and subtle makeup were not my forte.
“Connor MacDowell isn’t going to know what hit him,” Ella said, grinning at me in the mirror. “And it serves him right.”