Free Maui Widow Waltz (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett

has all of your measurements. But the drape of the fabric and the
unique design must work with the curves of your body to make a gown that fits
you perfectly. If you’d like her to simply sew it up, she can. But be
forewarned, without fittings it’ll look more like an off-the-rack-dress than an
exclusive original. You’re paying for couture and you deserve the full
package. Do you have any idea how many fittings super models have before
Fashion Week in New York?” My BS meter was pegging in the red zone, but the
overall gist of it was true. 
    “All right. But I’m not happy about
this. Naomi Campbell gets paid huge bucks to have pins stuck in her. Is this
the only fitting I’ll need?”
    “There’s usually a final fitting
the day before the wedding.”
    “The wedding’s in less than a week!
Does that stupid dressmaker think I’m going to pork out in five days?”
    “Maybe you won’t need a final
fitting. I think you should discuss it with Akiko.”
    “Oh yeah, like she’s ever said one
single word to me—ever.”
    I let a beat go by and then
ventured, “Any chance you could come by later this afternoon?” I was pushing
it. She probably had her entire day planned out: napping, whining, watching a
half-dozen soaps she’d recorded on the DVR.
    “Today’s Saturday,” she said. “It’s
not even a work day.”
    It struck me odd that someone who’d
most likely never worked a day in her life could differentiate between business
days and weekends.
    “Yes, but Akiko’s been slaving
non-stop on your gown. She won’t be taking any time off between now and
Valentine’s Day.”
    “Bully for her.”
    I waited.
    “Okay. I’ll call Kevin and get him
to drive me. We’ll be there at three. Tell that little sewing lady to be on
time and to make it snappy. I’ve got to be back home by four to catch Entertainment
Tonight, the Weekend Edition. It comes on way early over here. My whole TV
schedule’s all messed up.”
    I offered mahalos for coming
in on such short notice. I didn’t comment on the obvious irony of a spoiled
diva racing home to catch up on the antics of other spoiled divas. After all, I
had a mortgage to pay.
     
    Lisa Marie arrived a few minutes
before three. Kevin excused himself immediately, saying he’d be back in half an
hour. In her slim elegant gown Lisa Marie looked even more emaciated than she
had on Friday. Akiko pinned and tucked, assuring both me and the bride it was
way easier to take in a dress than let one out.
    “I make big seams. Usually with
pregnant girl, well, you know.” She pinched her lips into a disapproving scowl.
“Skinny girl, no problem.”
    After the fitting, Lisa Marie
hopped off the step-up platform and dashed behind the curtain of the tiny
changing room. Half a minute later, she used her bare foot to nudge the
exquisite silk dress under the curtain and out onto the fitting room floor.
Akiko’s eyes widened in horror as she snatched up the gown. She smoothed the fabric
with the tenderness of a mother comforting an injured child. Then she hung the
dress on a padded hanger and slipped it into a pink satin garment bag. She
turned to leave.
    “Next fitting on Tuesday,” she
said, parting the bead curtain. I heard her bare feet pad across the reception
room floor and then there was a pause as she slipped into her flip-flops. A few
seconds later the front door slammed with a resolute bam .
    “I told you I didn’t want any more
fittings,” said Lisa Marie. She’d come out from the dressing room wearing only
her bra and panties. She stood—hands on hips—glaring at me.
    “Akiko had to take your gown in
almost an entire size, Lisa Marie. If you keep losing weight, it’ll be hanging
on you like a garbage bag by Valentine’s Day. You need to start eating. And you
need to come back on Tuesday so she can check the alterations.”
    “Oh, listen to Miss Bossy Boss.
Well, the queen of somewhere once said, ‘There’s no such thing as being too
rich or too thin.’