His Family

Tina was back in a few minutes with the very dress China had in mind. A rich ivory chiffon, it had a draped neckline and split flutter sleeves. Sophie gasped as Tina held up the hanger and splayed the tea-length, asymmetrical hem of the skirt over her other arm.

“It’s perfect,” Sophie breathed.

“Llewellyn is the finest ready-to-wear designer working today,” Tina said. “Before you try it on, would you like to see what she has in mind for your bridesmaids?”

“She?” Sophie asked, then turned to Tina as she gestured at China. “How did you know about this dress, China?”

“I’m a personal shopper at home,” she replied, then explained about the Belmont Shores wedding. “The bride had the wedding planner at her wits’ end. She was a friend of mine, and I happened to remember seeing the dresses in Llewellyn’s fall collection.”

Tina put the ivory dress on the hook, then returned with a dress of similar cut, with the same neckline and sleeves, but with a diagonal ruffle that ran from hip to knee and matched the asymmetrical hem. It was also chiffon.

“It’s perfect!” Cordie said, touching the ruffle. “What colors does it come in?”

“We have it in jade, persimmon, dusk and dawn. Dusk is a sort of purply-blue, and dawn is pink to dark lavender. If you want the two in different colors, I’d say dusk and dawn. Dusk for Cordie. It’ll be perfect with your hair.”

“Go!” Chloe ordered. “Go try them on while Tina helps me find something for the mother of the bride.”

“Mom,” Cordie said, “you’re the mother of the groom.”

Chloe shrugged. “Her mother isn’t here, so I am mother of the entire wedding. Go!”

Cordie, Sophie and China disappeared obediently into the fitting rooms with the dresses Tina brought them.

China shucked her Long Island whites and pulled the filmy fabric on over her head. She cursed Kezia’s good cooking when she had to wriggle through the snug-fitting lining of the bodice. She avoided the mirror as she tugged the also-snug skirt down over her hips and let the bias-cut folds of fabric fall to just above her ankles.

She could plead for a looser style, she thought, which would probably be better for Cordie, anyway. Or some kind of filmy tunic to cover…

She turned to the mirror, wincing against what she was going to see…then decided quickly her reflection wasn’t bad at all. She didn’t have Sophie’s ethereal good looks, maybe, or Cordie’s ebullience, which made her look good in anything.

But apparently all the physical labor she’d done in the orchard had countered the extra calories she’d consumed at the table. The fabric clung to her breasts, her rib cage, her waist and her hips, and—if she sucked in her breath—was even flattering. The skirt rippled around her slender ankles as she kicked off her comfortable slip-ons and stood on tiptoe to see where the hem-line would fall when she wore heels.

“How do you look?” Sophie’s voice shouted over the tops of the roofless dressing rooms. “I’m quite gorgeous!”

“Me, too!” Cordie said from the room in between. “Well, except for my belly.”

“Pregnant bellies are gorgeous,” Sophie called, sounding euphoric. “You won’t believe how perfect this dress is!”

“I’m sure it’s because you’re in it. China?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gorgeous?”

“Ah…well, passable, anyway. But I’m going to need control-top panty hose.”

Cordie giggled. “I wish that could help me.”

“I’m coming out,” Sophie said. “Meet you at the mirrors.”

Her fitting-room door opened and closed, and China remained rooted to the spot, still looking at her reflection in amazement. She was the same woman she’d been when she arrived at Shepherd’s Knoll, but the experience of almost having and then losing a wonderful prize showed in her face. She didn’t look sad, precisely, just a little…misplaced. Uncertain. Longing. Fortunately, when she walked out of the fitting room and toward the mirrors, the fabric floating around her legs, Cordie and Sophie didn’t see any of that.

“You look beautiful!” Cordie said, walking around her, then looking over her shoulder in the mirror. “Wow. I can’t believe how right you were about these dresses. Look at Sophie!”

Sophie did a turn in front of the three-way, a small dancing army in ruffly ivory reflected back at them. The cut was perfect for her graceful slenderness, and she glowed with the confidence of wearing a garment she knew made the most of her figure and her personality. She spun away from the mirror to face them, her eyes aglow.

“You can’t leave Shepherd’s Knoll,” she said to China. “You have to do my clothes shopping all the time.”

Cordie went to the mirror, turned sideways and held a hand under her round little stomach. She wasn’t very big yet, but big enough that her curves played havoc with the straight lines of the dress, yet were somewhat camouflaged by the diagonal ruffle. She wound up her long red ponytail and held it to the back of her head.

“Helps the line a little, don’t you think?”

Sophie and China flanked her, Sophie doing the same with her long hair. “I think we could go on the road with a sister act,” Sophie said.

“Except that we aren’t sisters and we can’t sing,” China said.

“Sisters-in-law are close enough.” Cordie put an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “You’re the one putting a damper on everything. If you’d marry Campbell, we could have very profitable careers.”

“Campbell and I hate each other,” China said, knowing even as the words came out of her mouth that that was now mysteriously untrue. At least, not true to the degree it had once been. “And who needs a profitable career when you’re an Abbott?”

Sophie’s reflection raised an eyebrow at hers. “What about our emotional need to perform? To watch the curtain rise, hear the audience applaud?”

“That wouldn’t happen. We can’t sing.”

“How do we know?” Sophie persisted. “What if our three dissonant voices came together to make the perfect sound? We’ll never know, will we, because you’re selfishly leaving us.”

“Not until her sister arrives,” Cordie reminded the bride-to-be. “There’s still time to change her mind. Does your sister sing, China?”

The silliness went on.

Then Chloe came out of the fitting room in a skirt similar in style to theirs but with a more tailored jacket, the irregular length of its hem its only concession to the thirties style. The color was somewhere between China’s pink lavender and Cordie’s purply blue. It was sensational with her gray hair and fair complexion.

She slipped in under China’s arm to become part of the chorus-girl lineup. Playfully, she pointed her toe and showed some leg.

“That’s it!” Sophie said. “Even if we can’t sing, we can dance!”

“Oh, I’d be graceful,” Cordie said dryly, and broke away.

Chloe groaned. “I suffer from arthritis.”

“I suffer from two left feet.” China followed her cohorts toward the dressing room.

Sophie sighed and fell into line behind them. “It’s tough being a visionary when you’re among a bunch of dullards,” she complained.

Chapter Four

“I don’t understand what just happened,” Sawyer said, turning to Campbell in mystification. He, Campbell and Killian sat across from Cordie, Sophie and China at the game table in one of the family rooms. “What do you mean, queens are wild? I’ve never heard of queens being wild in rummy. I have three aces.”

“They’re not worth anything in ‘millionaire rummy,’” China replied, gathering up their cards. She was dealer.