Chapter 40
J osh was the final one to climb into John’s Suburban. “I can’t believe you got six tickets to the playoff game,” he said, scanning the group of men in the car as he maneuvered into the third-row seat and buckled in next to Frank.
“We’ve got Glenn to thank for that,” Frank said. “He used his connections.”
“It helps to have been a season ticket holder for more than fifty years,” Glenn replied with a grin. “It’s been at least a decade since I’ve been to a playoff game. I’m excited about going with a group of guy friends. Makes me feel young again.”
“You’re the youngest-thinking person I know,” Tim said from the second row, smiling at Glenn beside him.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Josh said sincerely. “I’ve never been to a college basketball playoff game.”
“We wanted to do something special for you,” John called from behind the wheel. “You’re getting married in ten days. We figured this would be our version of a bachelor party.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Josh said. “Sunday and I both feel like bachelor and bachelorette parties—especially those whole destination weekends—have gotten out of hand. We’re not doing any of that stuff.”
Everyone in the car—except John, who kept his eyes on the road—turned to smile at him.
“What?” Josh asked, his brow furrowing.
“About that …” Gordon said, glancing at him from the passenger seat. “What do you think Sunday is doing tonight?”
“She’s going to Archer’s Bridal for the last fitting on her gown. They finished it two days ago and moved it from the library to the shop so they could make any last-minute alterations.”
The car fell silent for a beat.
“That’snotthe only thing she’s doing tonight, is it?” Josh asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
“I think a certain group of women may have other plans for her,” Gordon said lightly.
“We promised our wives we wouldn’t say anything,” John added.
“So you’ll hear about it when you get home.
” He signaled and merged onto the highway.
“Now,” he said, his tone shifting, “we’ve got a 60-minute drive ahead of us.
I want to hear everyone’s analysis of the remaining teams and your predictions for who’s taking home the national title. ”
Sunday stood on the pedestal in the dressing room, examining herself in the three-way mirror.
Anita squatted behind her, arranging the fabric of the train. She glanced at Sunday’s reflection and quickly stood.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.
Sunday wiped a tear with one hand and flung out the other. “Tissue,” she said in a choked voice.
Anita grabbed the box from the corner and handed it to her. Sunday snatched one from the top and dabbed at her cheeks, catching her tears before they fell onto the dress.
“I feel so beautiful,” she whispered. “When the wrong dress arrived, I told myself I was being silly—that it didn’t matter, that I’d be fine.
But I’ve had a picture of a dress like this tucked in the back of my journal since I was in middle school.
” Her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you made this for me. ”
Anita took the damp tissue from her. “You’d be a beautiful bride no matter what you wore,” she said. “But I’m thrilled with how this turned out.”
Sunday sniffled. “We better get me out of this dress before I start crying again and ruin it.”
Anita began unbuttoning the long line of covered buttons. “I once sewed the sleeves on a wedding dress backward,” she chuckled.
Sunday stopped sniffling and turned wide eyes to Anita.
“Didn’t discover it until the bride came in for her first fitting.”
“Oh my gosh,” Sunday said. “That must’ve been?—”
“Awful?” Anita finished with a wry smile. “We fixed it easily, but it sure was embarrassing. I checked and double-checked the sleeves on your gown. I’m not makingthatmistake again.”
Sunday continued to sniffle, and Anita handed her another tissue.
“There’s a pocket on the right side,” Anita said as she helped Sunday step out of the dress. “Every weepy bride needs a pocket.”
Sunday laughed. “I’m afraid that’s going to be me. A pocket for tissues will be very helpful.”
“You’re not stuffing a tissue in that pocket,” Anita said, shaking her head. “You need an old-fashioned, lace-trimmed hanky.”
“You’re right,” Sunday said. “I’ll poke around the antique shops this weekend to find one.”
Anita nodded, her eyes twinkling.
Sunday slipped back into her slacks and sweater while Anita carefully positioned the dress on its padded hanger and hung it from the elevated hook on the dressing room wall.
“I’ll steam everything first thing tomorrow and put it in a garment bag. You can pick it up whenever you like,” she said.
Sunday crossed the room and pulled Anita into a tight hug. “Thank you again.” She took a step back. “Josh went to a playoff game with John, Gordon, and the others. I’m on my own for dinner—and I know you are too. Want to join me at Pete’s?” She slipped into her puffer jacket.
A loudpopsounded from the back of the shop.
“What was that?” Sunday asked. “I thought we were the only ones here.”
Anita shrugged. “We better go check before we head to dinner.” She opened the fitting room door.
“It sounded like a champagne cork,” Sunday whispered, following closely behind her.
They walked through the showroom and into the break room. Anita flicked on the overhead light just as a chorus of voices rang out: “Surprise!”
Sunday gasped and brought her hands to her cheeks.
A cluster of smiling women stood along the far wall.
Someone had set up two tables—one with trays of finger foods, the other piled high with wrapped gifts.
Bouquets of iridescent white balloons bobbed above them, and a shimmering‘Bride to Be’ banner hung from the ceiling.
Champagne and sparkling cider chilled in ice buckets on the counter next to rows of flutes.
A circle of chairs had been set up in the center of the room.
“You didn’t think we were going to let you get married without a bridal shower, did you?” Susan stepped forward.
“You’re all so busy,” Sunday said. “And we planned our wedding so quickly … I didn’t think anyone would have time.”
“You should know us better than that,” Judy said, hugging her.
“Thank you all for doing this,” Sunday said, her eyes shining.
“We know you’re not a fan of tiaras and sashes or noisy bar nights, so we planned something a little more … you,” Susan said. “Let’s eat and drink first.” She gestured to the food table. “The bride goes first.”
Sunday grabbed a plate and filled it with one of everything.
“Everyone wrote their best piece of marital advice on a note and dropped it in that box.” Susan pointed to a rectangular box covered in an ivory and mauve floral chintz.
“We thought you could read those aloud before we open gifts.” She guided Sunday toward a cozy armchair in the middle of the circle.
For the next hour, Sunday sipped sparkling cider and nibbled cheese straws, caprese skewers, and meatballs while her friends shared stories, advice, and more than a few hilarious wedding mishaps.
“These crab puffs are heavenly,” Nancy said. “Who brought them?”
Loretta raised her hand. “I’m glad you like them. They’re easy.”
“I’d love the recipe,” Joan said.
“I’ll email it to you tomorrow,” Loretta replied.
“Keep eating,” Susan said. “There’s plenty of food, but I think we need to move on.” She handed Sunday the fabric-covered box. “Now it’s time for the advice.”
Sunday pulled out the first slip. “This is from Gloria Vaughn. She writes, ‘The most useful words in marriage—or parenting—are:‘Tell me more.’”
She looked over at Gloria. “I’ll remember this.”
“They matter most when you’re angry or don’t agree with someone,” Gloria said. “My instinct was always to argue to prove my point. But we resolve things faster—and with more compassion—when we really listen.”
“I’m writing that down,” Susan said, grabbing a pad and pen from under her chair.
Sunday finished reading the rest of the notes, then hugged the box to her chest. “I can’t wait to share these with Josh. I love that you did this.”
“Now—time to open gifts,” Susan said. “I’ll record who gave what so you can write thank-you notes. Mom’s going to hand out the gifts.”
Maggie handed Sunday a small rectangular box. “This one’s from Judy.”
Sunday untied the narrow satin ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a delicate white linen handkerchief, embroidered with forget-me-nots and edged with blue satin.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Sunday said, her eyes wide. “Anita and I were just talking about how I need a hanky for my gown’s pocket.”
Anita winked at Judy.
“You two planned this,” Sunday accused, laughing. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I can’t possibly use it to wipe my tears.”
“I made it for that exact reason,” Judy said. “You’resupposedto use it.”
“And now you’ve got something blue, too,” Loretta added. “New and blue.”
Maggie handed Sunday a large box. “From Lyla.”
Inside was a scrapbook filled with printed screenshots from Dress Cam, photos of the gown’s progress, and online viewer comments. Sunday flipped through the pages and passed it into Nancy’s outstretched hands.
“This will be as precious as our wedding photos,” she said.
Lyla smiled so wide her cheeks pushed her glasses up on her nose.
Sunday unwrapped a set of luggage organizers and packing cubes from Loretta, a kitchen wisdom book from Gloria, an ivory silk robe from Anita, a blank travel journal from Nancy, and a china jewelry tray from Joan.
Susan and Maggie lifted the cloth from under the gift table to reveal the final surprise: a robin’s egg blue luggage set.
Sunday scooted to the edge of her chair. “These are gorgeous!”
“TSA-approved locks, built-in phone charger, cupholder, and a hook for your bag,” Susan explained.
“I remembered that your luggage was damaged on your London trip,” Maggie said. “Josh mentioned you hadn’t replaced it. We thought this would be useful.”
“You’re all set to travel now,” Loretta added. “Do you have a honeymoon planned?”
“Not yet,” Sunday said. “We’re saving for a house. We plan to take a trip on our first anniversary. But now, with all these amazing travel gifts … I don’t know if Icanwait!”
“How’s the house hunt going?” Nancy asked.
“We want to stay in this area, but everything’s so pricey. We need more time to save. Once we’ve got a larger nest egg, we’ll call Tim,” Sunday said, smiling at Nancy.
“He’d be happy to speak with you now—even if you’re not ready,” Nancy said. “He’ll have ideas for you.”
“I’ll talk to Josh,” Sunday said. “Maybe after the wedding.”
“I grew up in a house across the street from the Olsson House,” Judy said. “It’s a wonderful neighborhood to raise a family.”
“We love that street,” Sunday said. “I drive down it on my way home from work at least once a week. Which house?”
Judy began describing it.
Sunday interrupted her with a squeal. “I know exactly which one that is. We stood on the sidewalk and lusted after it for the longest time on New Year’s Eve. That’s our dream house. I hope we can find one just like it.”
Judy bit her lip and didn’t say anything else.
“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect home for you and Josh,” Anita said.
“And now,” Susan announced, getting to her feet, “there’s just one thing left to do.”
All eyes turned to her.
“We’ve got a cake from Laura’s Bakery—and it won’t eat itself.”
Maggie cleared a space on the food table and Anita brought the cake in from the kitchen. Judy passed slices around.
Conversation quieted as everyone enjoyed the sweet treat. Sunday set her fork down and dabbed her lips with her napkin.
“Thank you for being such good friends—and for making tonight so special. I love you all. One thing is certain—Josh and I want to spend our lives in Westbury.”