Between Sisters

“Do I? I can’t imagine why. ” Claire slung her purse strap over her shoulder and fell into step beside Meghann, who was marching uphill like Patton. “We need to talk about the wedding. Your performance this morning—”

“Here,” Meghann said, stopping suddenly in front of a narrow white door flanked by windows on either side. A small iron-scrolled sign read: By Design. A man in a severe black suit was busily undressing a mannequin behind the glass. He saw Meghann and waved her in.

“What is this place?”

“You said I could plan your wedding, right?”

“Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to discuss with you. Unfortunately, your listening skills are seriously underdeveloped. ”

Meg opened the door and went inside.

Claire hesitated.

“Come on. ” Meghann waited for her in front of an elevator.

Claire followed.

A second later, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. They went in; the doors closed.

Finally, Meghann said, “I’m sorry about this morning. I know I screwed up. ”

“Sleeping is one thing. Snoring is another. ”

“I know. I’m sorry. ”

Claire sighed. “It’s the story of our lives, Meg. Don’t you get tired of it? One of us is always sorry about something, but we never—”

The elevator doors opened.

Claire gasped.

Meg had to lay a hand on her shoulder and gently shove her forward. She stumbled over the off-kilter threshold and into the store.

Only it wasn’t a store. That was like calling Disneyland a carnival.

There were mannequins everywhere, poised perfectly, and dressed in the most beautiful wedding dresses Claire had ever seen. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, stepping forward. The gown in front of her was an off-the-shoulder creation, nipped at the waist. Ivory

silk charmeuse fell in folds to the floor. Claire felt the fabric—softer than anything she’d ever touched—and peeked at the price tag. It read: Escada $4,200.

She let go of it suddenly and turned to Meghann. “Let’s go. ” Her throat felt tight. She was a little girl again, standing in the hallway of a friend’s house, watching a family have dinner together.

Meg grabbed her wrist, wouldn’t let her go. “I want you to try on dresses here. ”

“I can’t. I know you’re just being you, Meg. But this . . . hurts a little. I work at a campground. ”

“I don’t want to say this twice, Claire, so please listen and believe me. I work eighty-five hours a week, and my clients pay almost four hundred dollars an hour. I’m not showing off. It’s a fact: Money is something I have. It would mean a lot to me to buy you this wedding gown. You don’t belong in the dresses we saw this morning. I’m sorry if you think I’m a bitch and a snob, but that’s how I feel. Please. Let me do this for you. ”

Before Claire had come up with her answer, a woman cried out, “Meghann Dontess. In a wedding shop. Who would ever believe it?”

A tall, rail-thin woman in a navy blue sheath dress strode forward, her impossibly high heels clacking on the marble floor. Her hair, a perfect combination of white-blond and silver, stood out from her face in a Meg Ryan–type cut.

“Hello, Risa,” Meg said, extending her hand. The women shook hands, then Risa looked at Claire.

“This is the great one’s baby sister, yes?”

Claire heard the barest hint of an Eastern European accent. Maybe even Russian. “I’m Claire. ”

“And Meghann is letting you marry. ”