Bodice of Evidence (7 page)

“Welcome, I'm Vidalia,” the young woman said as she greeted us at the door. “I'm so glad you came. Please come in. Can I get you some sparkling water?”

“Yes, please,” Mom said behind us. “It's good to stay hydrated. Dress shopping can get quite involved.”

“I see you've been wedding dress shopping before,” Vidalia said over her shoulder, and walked us into the first salon. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. My time is entirely yours. My mother's case is still open with no leads, but now that the funeral is over, I'm so glad to be back to work. Thank you again for coming in. You are the first group to return. I'm hoping others will see that I'm still in business and have my mother's uncanny knack to place the right dress with the right
bride. Trust me. I can get you in the dress of your dreams in three try-ons.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “We've already gone to four shops and tried on far more than three dresses.”

Felicity sighed long and loud. “It's not my fault. None of the dresses look like the pictures when I try them on.”

“Of course they don't,” Vidalia said, and patted Felicity's hand. “The models are all six feet tall with no curves. I promise I have an eye for the perfect dress for real women. Now, there are petit fours on the side table along with a fruit plate. Help yourself.” She held up her hand. “Don't tell me you are dieting for the wedding. That's foolish. Your fiancé wants to marry the woman he got engaged to, and I know how to make you look like the bride of both your dreams. I'll be right back with the drinks and the dresses.”

“Dresses? But I haven't told you my size yet.”

She smiled a secret smile. “I'm guessing a size four, right? You have just the right amount of curves.” Vidalia tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You do have a tiny waist, but we can tailor it.”

With that she walked out, closing the door behind us.

“Well, she certainly is interesting,” Mom said, and took off her jacket and hung it on the ornate coatrack near the table of goodies.

“I don't know how she can claim to find the right dress so quickly.” Felicity crossed her arms and pouted. “You know how hard we've looked.”

“What are you going to do if she finds it?” I asked,
and picked up a small white plate from the stack on the table and popped some grapes and a couple of the little iced cakes on it.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Mom said. “We all know how Felicity feels about buying her dress here. We're only here out of respect for the poor girl. It would be horrible to lose your mother and your business in one fell swoop.”

Felicity paced. “How did she know my size? I know I'm petite. Usually people assume I'm a size two but she guessed correctly that I'm a size four on top.”

“She's a dressmaker and she most likely has a dressmaker's eye,” Mom said. “Isn't it wonderful that she can simply look at you and assess your size?” “

“No,” Felicity pouted. “Now I'm feeling fat because she didn't assume I was a size two.”

“Oh, stop,” I said, and sat down. “You are far from fat. Besides Warren loves you exactly the way you are. “

“You only say that because you are tall and thin.” Felicity crinkled her nose at me. “At least I have boobs.”

“Girls!” Mom said. “Enough. Felicity, if you don't like it here, we can leave.”

“But—” I said.

“No
buts
.” Mom held out her hand to cut me off. “This is about Felicity, not your questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.” I slumped into the couch. “Sorry, Felicity. I promise we can leave anytime you want.”

The door opened then and Vidalia came in with three dresses draped over her arm. Behind her was another
woman who appeared to be in her twenties. She had a short brown pixie cut, dark winged eyebrows with a diamond stud in the corner of her right eyebrow, and a sweet smile. She wore a black shift dress that matched Vidalia's, and bright red lipstick.

“This is my assistant, Theresa,” Vidalia said. “She has your waters and can get you anything else you need.”

Theresa carried a pretty lined wicker basket filled with ice that held three bottles of water. “Hello, it's so nice to meet you. I want to apologize for no one being here the day of your original appointment. I was out sick, but I'm much better now.” She handed Mom the basket. “Please let me know if you need anything at all. I'll be outside at the front desk.”

As Theresa left, Vidalia turned to the wall where there were three dress hooks. “I'll hang these up. Now, don't look at them on the hanger,” she warned. “This is not about what they look like when they are hanging. This is about how they look on your body.”

“Wait, one is pink,” Felicity said, “And one is pale blue.”

“Pastel dresses are the latest thing,” Vidalia said. “Trust me. Many brides are tired of dressing like a marshmallow. Besides, in some countries white is actually a funeral color. That said, if you like the gown but not the color we can order it in white. Okay? Now, remember these are sample sizes and your gown will be custom-made for you here at Bridal Dreams. You can change behind the screen. I have hung up a silk slip that will help
the dresses float over your body and keep the lace from scratching.”

Vidalia and Felicity stepped behind a three-panel screen with a gorgeous Japanese mountain scene painted on the front.

The rest of the room had pale peach painted walls and soft blue lighting. The corner across from the screen held a dais surrounded by three full-size mirrors. We were seated in two of three peach-and-white-patterned chairs with heart-shaped backs. Mom's had alternating peach and white stripes. Mine had a checkered pattern, and the final one was upholstered in peach fabric with tiny white roses on it.

“The dress she took in looks like a pink cupcake,” I whispered to Mom.

“I'm not certain how I feel about colored dresses,” Mom said quietly to me. “You father is a traditional man.”

I had a feeling Dad wasn't the one who would mind, but I simply stuffed a chocolate petit four into my mouth. On the final wall was an ornate buffet made of oak with the platters of goodies on top. Mom had put the basket on the floor between us, then bent down and picked up two bottles and handed me one. I opened it up to the sound of fizz. Looking at the label, I realized this was the good stuff. No cheap bottled water here.

“How's it going back there?” Mom called.

“The dress fits like a glove.” Felicity's voice floated over the top of the screen.

“Except the waist.” Vidalia's voice followed Felicity's. “I'm doing a little pinning so that you get the proper effect.”

In a minute Felicity stepped around the screen. She looked gorgeous in the pale pink tea-length gown with lace and a tulle princess skirt and a sweetheart neckline.

“Oh,” Mom said, and tilted her head to study Felicity as she walked to the mirrors and stood on the dais.

Vidalia adjusted the skirt and waited a moment before asking. “What do you think?”

“It's very pretty,” Felicity said.

“It makes you look like a princess,” I encouraged.

“What do you like about it?” Vidalia asked my sister.

“You know, I kind of like the lace. It's got a full skirt that isn't so full that I have to move sideways through the doors.”

“And that's important,” Mom said. “She has to be able to walk down the aisle with her father.”

We all giggled at the idea of the dress walking down the aisle first, then Felicity, then Dad. “It sort of looks more like a prom dress than a bridal gown, but it's beautiful,” I said, and popped a grape into my mouth. I had sworn never to say anything negative about any dress my sister tried on. I was not going to be the one to ruin her perfect gown.

“Remember, this is the first of three,” Vidalia said. “Mother taught me that you should show the bride options so that she can understand why you picked the dress you picked. This color is new and fresh and makes your skin look lovely.”

“I do like it,” Felicity said, as she twisted and turned in the mirror, eyeing all angles. “But I don't love it.”

“Let's get you out of it and then I want you to take a moment and have some water and relax. It's important that you don't rush from dress to dress. Okay?”

“Okay,” Felicity said.

“Good.” Vidalia followed her back to the screen.

I got up and followed them, leaning against the wall. It was time to start asking questions. “How are you doing, Vidalia? This has to be difficult—working without your mother here.”

“Truthfully, I'd much rather be working. I'm so glad you and your family came back. It really helps me.”

“This choice of dress was unique and lovely,” I said.

“Most brides come in here looking for a strapless mermaid dress, but I believe that each bride needs to wear the dress created for her body and her personality. Not simply a sexy white gown.” She tugged the tulle and lace over Felicity's head. My sister's blond hair floated back down and rested perfectly around her shoulders. She wore a silk slip that did indeed skim her figure.

“Wow, that slip would make a nice dress,” I said.

“I was afraid mom would have the same thought.” Felicity winked at me recalling our mother's preference of satin slip dresses.

“I did have that thought,” Mom said with a pout. “But I bit my tongue. You two have made it quite clear that a slip dress is not for you.”

Vidalia hung the pink dress back on its hanger and
fluffed all the little bits of lace and tulle back into place. “Your mother is right. A slip dress would be perfect for a bride of your height and weight,” Vidalia said, “but I'm thinking that you really want something more elegant and refined. Am I right?”

Felicity's eyes grew wide. “Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

“Oh, my goodness, it's simple, really. I can see your style in the cut of your hair, the clothes that you wore into the salon, and the type of diamond on your finger.” She pointed to the princess-cut rock on Felicity's left hand. “I'll take this out and hang it up. Please take a moment to get some water and have some fruit.”

She walked out with the gown and closed the door behind her.

“I kind of liked the pink,” I said, feeling guilty for my earlier comment on the prom dress.

“How did she know I was thinking about a strapless gown with a mermaid skirt?” Felicity asked as she opened the bottle of sparkling water and sat on the chair beside Mom. “Did you notice how she made it sound as if everyone wanted that type of dress, but she knew it was not for me?”

“She's very clever,” I agreed, and wandered toward the two dresses that were left. They were safely tucked into clear dress bags, so it was difficult to tell anything about their true shape.

“Hi, Vidalia must take a phone call and sent me in to check on you.” Theresa entered the room with a tray. “I thought I'd bring in some coffee. There's this great café
down the road and so I ran out and got you all some caramel lattes. Please do take special care to keep the coffee away from the dresses. We don't want any spills or stains. But since you are waiting for the fitting, I'm certain it will be fine.”

“Oh, how sweet of you,” Mom said.

I wasn't so convinced. “You left the front desk to get us coffees? What if you had other customers come in?”

Theresa blushed. “Oh, well, we don't have anyone else scheduled, so I thought I'd make a quick run.”

“It was very nice of her,” Mom said slowly, as if I were being ridiculous.

“Yes, sure, it was nice,” I said, and crossed my arms. “You said you were sick the day that Eva was murdered?”

“Yes,” she said as she put the coffees on the buffet and straightened the tea plates and silver on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you? More water? More petit fours?”

“We're good,” I said as I watched her hover. “Did Detective Murphy interview you?”

“Yes.” She turned to me and raised her pierced brow. “Why? I really was sick. You can ask my mother.”

“You still live with your mother?” Felicity asked.

“Yes, the economy is terrible. Mom needed help with the mortgage, so I pay rent and we became, like, roommates.” She clasped her hands together.

“Oh, what a nice solution. I have a friend who bought a house with her daughter, that way neither of them had to pay a full mortgage,” my mom chimed in.

“It must have been a shock when you saw the news,” I said, noting how her hands fluttered to her neck and then cheek before she drew them behind her back. It was pretty clear to me that the subject was unnerving for her. Was it because she was guilty of something, or was she thinking about how she could have been here when the murder happened?

“It was terrible.” She shifted again, hugging her waist. “I keep thinking about poor Eva in that alley all alone. I can't decide if I'm upset because I wasn't here or stuck on the possibility that if I had been here, I might also be dead, you know? These things can make a person think . . .” Her voice trailed off. Then she brightened. “Perhaps that isn't a good subject for today. After all, you are here to find the perfect wedding dress and that is a happy occasion, yes?” She smiled at us. “Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get you?”