“I want to turn it into my wedding skirt.”
Colin’s mother had always been polished in a way that made me feel like I had shown up slightly underdressed.
She came by while I was doing a fitting.
“You’re planning to wear that to the wedding? Do you realize how many of my business associates will be there?”
I blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She gave a short laugh and gestured toward the skirt. “It looks like a pile of rags.”
She came by while I was doing a fitting.
Colin, who had been standing near the mirror, stepped forward. “Mom.”
I looked right at Linda and said, “It’s my mother’s quilt. She made it, and it’s special to me. I’m wearing this to honor her.”
She did not back off. “And now it’s something that will embarrass this family.”
Colin said, sharper this time, “Enough.”
I lifted a hand without looking at him. “I’m wearing it, Linda. Colin and I both agree.”
“I’m wearing this to honor her.”
Linda’s mouth tightened.
She said nothing else, but the look she gave me stayed with me.
I told myself she would eventually understand why it mattered.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
***
The morning of the wedding was chaos in the way weddings apparently always are. People moving in and out, the planner speaking into a headset like she was managing a military operation.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
My skirt was hanging in the closet in the bridal suite. I had checked on it twice already, just because seeing it settled me.
About two hours before the ceremony, I went upstairs to get dressed.
I opened the bridal suite door, headed to the closet, and pulled it open.
At first, my brain would not make sense of what I was seeing.
The skirt fabric hung crooked, torn in long, ugly gashes. Dark stains spread across the patchwork. One of the seams had been ripped so hard that squares dangled loose, barely attached.
I went upstairs to get dressed.
I sank to the floor. “No, no, no.”
The door clicked softly behind me.
“Oh, dear.”
I looked up.
Linda stood in the doorway, smiling. “Is something wrong with your skirt?”
“You did this.”
She gave the tiniest shrug. “I saved you from embarrassing yourself.”
“Is something wrong with your skirt?”
I thought I would scream or throw something.
Instead, everything went still.
I wiped my face with the heel of my hand. “You know, you might be right. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate.”
Her smile widened just a little. “I’m glad you’re finally being sensible.”
I gathered the ruined skirt carefully in my arms and stood. “We should make a few changes.”
I walked right past her.
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