A Wedding in December

“Don’t worry. I send so many people here, they let me have the clothes at cost.”

She propelled Maggie into the welcoming warmth and greeted the woman who was hovering. “This is my dear friend Maggie. She’s Rosie’s mother—can you see the resemblance? Same eyes and the same beautiful skin. She needs a whole new wardrobe because the airline lost her baggage.”

The woman’s face lit up even as Maggie’s heart sank. She was going to have to sell Honeysuckle Cottage to pay for this.

“My case might arrive. I only need a few things.”

“Let’s see what leaps out at us, shall we?” Catherine trawled the clothes like someone on a mission, picking up a dress here and a sweater there. Black pants, a couple of shirts, a cashmere poncho, a coat with a fake fur strip on the hood. She was a force to be reckoned with. Trust me, you will look great in this.

With considerable difficulty Maggie removed the jeans and wriggled into the black pants and a fitted roll-neck sweater in a completely impractical shade of cream. Neither were things she would have chosen herself. She tended to wear tunics that covered all the bits of herself that she didn’t like. She tried to reject a soft wool dress with a hint of sparkle, but Catherine insisted it would be perfect for Christmas Day. Her powers of persuasion eclipsed Maggie’s reluctance.

Was this what she’d been like with Rosie choosing a wedding dress?

Maggie took a breath and forced herself to look in the mirror.

“Oh.”

“What?” Catherine opened the door to the changing room. “Well, hello, gorgeous. That sweater is perfect.”

“I don’t usually wear skinny sweaters. I’m too fat.”

“Fat? Don’t be ridiculous. You look fabulous. Although you could lose a couple of inches from your hair. Or maybe we scoop it up into a messy bun—” She slid her fingers into Maggie’s hair, twisted it and secured it with bobby pins extracted from her purse. “I like it. Put some makeup on.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. It’s in your missing suitcase?”

“No, I don’t usually wear much. Lipstick occasionally.”

“You don’t—?” Catherine looked stunned. “We need to fix that. Do you know what we’re going to do together while you’re here? A spa day. Hair. Nails. Makeup. Girly chat. Maybe a glass or two of champagne while we get to know one another better.”

Maggie’s brain was still throbbing from the last glass of champagne. “I’ve never had a spa day.”

“Really?” Catherine went from stunned to faint, but she recovered swiftly. “How do you pamper yourself?”

“Er—I read in the bath?”

“That doesn’t count. I can’t believe you’ve never indulged in a spa day. We’re going to change that.” Catherine flashed her a smile and handed over the coat. “Try this. Your face will look so cute peeping out from the fur.”

Maggie, who was sure she’d never looked cute in her life, put the coat on. “What do you think?”

“Perfect. And it will keep you warm while you’re here. When you go out on the snowmobiles, or for a husky ride, we’ll lend you something more substantial.” She took the coat back. “You don’t need much makeup at all, you have excellent skin. You obviously use sunscreen.”

“I work indoors in a windowless building half the time, so that’s its own kind of sunscreen.”

“I’m starting to understand why you don’t love your job. Now let’s try on a few more things.”

Each outfit Maggie tried, Catherine was there to pass opinion, but to be fair she had a good eye.

Before she could overthink it, Maggie handed over her credit card.

Shopping had never been fun, but this was fun.

Or maybe it was Catherine who was fun.

“What about nightwear? If this is a second honeymoon, then you should dress accordingly.” Catherine studied Maggie for a moment and then grabbed a selection from the rack. “Black would drain you. Try ivory.” She handed over a sliver of silk with straps that crossed at the back.

Maggie had never worn slinky nightwear. The only way to survive Honeysuckle Cottage was by favoring sturdy brushed cotton over silk.