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Authors: Janelle Taylor

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BOOK: Dying To Marry
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“Clearly, Dylan, you expected negativity,” said Mrs. Dunhill. “So I don't see why you're getting so annoyed by my ... surprise at your announcement.”
Dylan shook his head, but sat back down. “I want you to be happy for me, Mother. I love Lizzie so much. For the first time in my life, I know what it means to be in love.”
“Oh, Dylan,” Mrs. Dunhill tsk-tsked as though her son were a teenager. “Don't confuse being in love with enduring love. Of course you're in love. She's”—she glanced at Lizzie—“very attractive.” Mrs. Dunhill ran her nose up and down the length of Lizzie, from her wild blond curls to her high-heeled hot-pink pumps.
“Mother,” Dylan said. “Lizzie and I came here to tell you in person that we're in love and we're getting married in three weeks. I wanted to tell you before you heard it elsewhere. I wanted to tell you before you received the invitation.”
Mrs. Dunhill froze. “
Invitation
? What?”
“You should receive it tomorrow or the next day,” Lizzie said. “They're really lovely. Gold embossing—”
“Invitations have gone out?” Mrs. Dunhill interrupted, the color draining from her face.
“Yes, Mother,” Dylan said.
“So you're serious,” she returned.
“Very serious,” Dylan responded.
Mrs. Dunhill looked from Dylan to Lizzie and then rang her little silver bell that she took everywhere. Walker, her butler, hurried into the room. “Walker, I'm feeling a bit faint. Will you help me upstairs?”
“Of course, madam,” Walker said. “Shall I reschedule Mr. Boone's visit?”
“Jake is here?” she asked, visibly relaxing. “No, no, Walker. I'll see him. In fact, send him in.” The butler stepped out. “If you're finished,” she said to Dylan and Lizzie, “I have some important business to discuss with Jake.”
Dylan smiled. “That's fine, Mother. Perhaps you'll invite Lizzie and me over for dinner so you can get to know her.”
Mrs. Dunhill smiled nervously, then shot up when Jake came into the room. “Ah, Jake. Do come in. Bye, now, Dylan. Lizbeth.”
Lizzie smiled warmly. “Please, call me Lizzie. I'm really looking forward to getting to know—”
“That's fine, dear. Close the door on your way out, will you, Dylan?”
Dylan shook his head and Lizzie bit her lip, and Jake dropped down in the chair Dylan vacated, knowing he had a long afternoon ahead of him.
The sound of an approaching car shook Jake out of the memory. Jimmy jumped off the hood of Jake's car and then kicked at the tire.
“It's not Dylan,” Jimmy grumbled as the car continued past. “Where
is
he? He's twenty minutes late!”
Jake slung an arm over Jimmy's shoulder. “Looks like Dylan got tied up at the office, Jim. C'mon, it'll be you and me.”
Jimmy's face crumpled. “This is, like, the fifth time he's blown me off. He's probably having sex with
Lizbeth
somewhere.”
“Hey,” Jake scolded. “Watch it.”
“Ever since he started seeing her, he's been too busy to hang out with me,” Jimmy complained. “I once had a friend like that—blew me off whenever he got a girlfriend. It really sucks.” He picked up a rock and threw it hard against a tree in the yard. “Whatever.”
Jake eyed the teenager. Jimmy was angry and hurt and sulking.
Enough to try to scare Lizzie out of marrying Jake?
As the boy slumped into Jake's car, he very reluctantly added Jimmy to his very long list of suspects.
 
“Good morning, Lizzie and party! Welcome to Bettina's Bridal!”
Bettina Tutweller, proprietor and snob, held open the door to her tony salon on Troutville's most exclusive shopping street. She wore a tight smile. Two assistants flanked her on either side, each with a tape measure around her neck.
As Lizzie, Holly, Gayle, and Flea entered the shop, the assistants swooped, handing out delicate china cups of tea and water with lemons floating.
“I'm simply delighted that you've chosen my shop for your wedding gown and your bridesmaids dresses,” Bettina gushed, her curly blond bob shaking wildly.
Of course you are,
Holly thought, mentally shaking her head at the woman.
Now that Lizzie is going to be a Dunhill and is spending Dunhill money, she's welcome.
And you are going to work for every penny!
Holly silently promised Bettina.
“Thank you so much, Bettina,” Lizzie replied. “You know Flea, of course. She's done some work for you, and this is Gayle and my cousin, Holly. My bridal party.”
“Isn't Prudence coming?” Bettina asked, looking out the windows. “She has such wonderful taste.”
Lizzie's face fell. “Pru isn't in the bridal party.”
“Isn't in the bridal party?” Bettina repeated. “But she's the groom's
sister
. Usually—”
“Lizzie introduced you to the bridal party,” Holly interrupted. “The three of us.”
Bettina eyed Holly, then slid her beady gaze back to Lizzie. “I see.” She clapped her hands loudly. Her two assistants flew to her side. “Why don't you four gals start looking around,” Bettina said. “If you need anything, Jenny and Mary here will help you. I've closed the shop so that you and your party will have our complete attention.” She and her assistants smiled and flitted away, but Holly noticed that Bettina stood behind her tiny marble desk, watching the group like a hawk.
“Don't let her comment about Pru bother you,” Holly whispered.
“I've already forgotten it,” Lizzie said. “I'm too excited to let anything bother me this morning.” Lizzie could barely contain her enthusiasm. “I feel like a kid in a candy store! You don't know how much it means to me that the three of you are my bridal party, standing up with me, sharing it all with me. I love you all so much!” Lizzie's eyes filled with happy tears.
Holly laughed and threw her arms around her cousin. “Oh, Lizzie. We love you, too.”
“We sure do,” Gayle said.
Flea nodded. “I especially love you since for the first time in forever, I don't have to make my own dress!”
Lizzie laughed. “All right, let's get started. Since the three of you have such different taste, why don't each of you individually pick dresses you like for yourselves. And then we'll see if everyone can agree on just one.”
Gayle nodded and winked at Lizzie. “Oh, miss,” she called to Bettina. “I'd like to see your sexy red bridesmaid dresses in size eight and ten.”
“And I'd like to see your more conservative black dresses in petite sixes,” Flea called out.
Holly smiled at Lizzie. Apparently, Lizzie had shared with Gayle and Flea her prior experience with Bettina. “I'll just look around and let you know when I'll require your help,” she said to Bettina.
The woman smiled tightly, then clapped twice, and her automaton assistants flew around the store, collecting dresses.
“Ooh, look at this one,” Gayle exclaimed, ogling a bright red, low-cut, drapey number. “Hot, hot, hot!”
Holly's own gaze landed on a pale pink gown with an empire waist and delicate beading. “Wow—that dress sure is pretty.”
“Ooh, I love it,” Flea agreed, her expert gaze admiring the craftsmanship. “And pink would suit all of our coloring.”
“It's just the right pink for my red hair, too,” Gayle said, caressing the silky material. “Holly, I think you've found our dress in less than one minute!”
Bettina's curiosity and business instinct won out and she scurried over. “That dress is pure silk and hand-beaded. A lovely choice.”
There was that word again.
Lovely.
Holly glanced at Lizzie, who was ogling a wedding gown on one of the few mannequins. It matched the description of Lizzie's Victorian gown—but it didn't match Lizzie one bit. There was absolutely nothing about the dress that said Lizzie.
If she likes it, she likes it
, Holly scolded herself.
“Isn't it beautiful?” Lizzie breathed. “It's so elegant! It's definitely the one.”
Gayle stared at the gown. “It's very pretty, Lizzie. But not what I would have thought you'd go for.”
“Yeah, Liz. It's not your style at all,” Flea agreed. “I'm surprised you even like it.”
“I know,” Lizzie said, caressing the lace on the high neck, which reminded Holly of a mock turtleneck. “I surprised myself, too! But when I saw it in the window, I knew it was the one.”
“The lace is exquisite,” Holly said.
“And you'll look amazing in it,” Gayle added.
“The puffing at the shoulders is a beautiful old-fashioned detail,” Flea said. “This dress is very difficult to make. It must cost a small fortune!”
Lizzie smiled and shook her head. “No looking at price tags. That's a direct order from Dylan himself.”
“It'll look just lovely on you, Lizzie,” Bettina rushed to say. “Why don't I put it in the dressing room for you.”
“Before you do that, Bettina,” Gayle said, “be a dear and return all these others to the racks.” She dumped a pile of slinky red dresses in the woman's arms.
Holly smiled.
“These, too,” Flea said, piling Bettina's other arm with a collection of black dresses. “But maybe not this one,” she said, removing the top one. “It's so well made, I'd love to try it just to examine the cut.”
Bettina harrumped, then clapped and filled her assistants' arms with the dresses. “I'll go get your dress for you, Lizzie,” she said. “Size fourteen?”
“Eight,” Lizzie corrected.
“Sometimes you can't tell with very busty women,” Bettina said coolly. “I'll need to go into our stockroom. I only have a four and six on the display racks.”
Holly rolled her eyes, and Lizzie laughed.
“I'm going to try this one on before the pink one,” Flea said. “Be back in a jif.” She headed back into the dressing room.
Lizzie fingered the pink silk dress draped over Holly's arm. “You have great taste, Hol. You always did. I wish I had your taste, but even when I try to dress ‘appropriately,' I always go back to my wild clothes. They're me, I guess.”
“Lizzie, I love the way you dress,” Holly said. “You dress like you. Wonderful, colorful you.”
“She's gotten a few comments from the Dunhills about the ‘inappropriateness' of some of her outfits,” Gayle said, rolling her own eyes. “A few days ago, we ran into Victoria Dunhill and a snooty friend of hers on the street, and as we passed, Victoria very loudly commented that Lizzie's dress was ‘most unbecoming and inappropriate for an engaged woman!'” Gayle shook her head. “And Lizzie was wearing one of her tamest outfits!”
Lizzie smiled, then bit her lip. “Dylan says he likes me just as I am and that if I changed one single thing about me, he'd cancel the wedding. But maybe I should try to fit in with the Dunhills. Dress differently. More like them.”
“But then you'd find yourself without a groom,” Holly pointed out with a smile.
“Yeah,” Gayle agreed. “So I guess you'll just have to keep being you!”
Lizzie laughed. “Thanks, guys. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“I have to say, Lizzie,” Holly said, “sounds to me like Dylan's doing a very good job.”
“Told you so,” Lizzie said, tapping Holly on the nose.
Holly smiled. “I'd really like to get to know him better.”
“That makes me so happy, Holly. You're gonna love—”
Suddenly, glass shattered and a scream came from the back area where the dressing rooms were.
“Flea!” Holly called. She ran to the dressing rooms, Lizzie, Gayle and the shop staff racing behind her.
Flea was slumped against the wall across from the floor-to-ceiling three-way mirror, a jagged cut bleeding on her forehead.
“Oh, my God, Flea!” Lizzie screamed. “Call 911,” she said to the assistants, racing over to Flea and kneeling down beside her. “What happened?”
Flea opened her mouth, but no words came out and she pointed to a stone that was half concealed by her body.
Holly gasped and immediately looked at the bay window behind the mirror. She ran over and parted the curtains to find a stone-sized hole
“Flea, are you all right?” Holly asked, kneeling beside her. “That cut looks pretty deep.”
“I'm f-fine—I think,” Flea said, gingerly touching her finger to the cut on her forehead. She tried to sit up straight, but slumped back against the wall. “A little dizzy.”
BOOK: Dying To Marry
9.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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