Free The Lake Season by Hannah McKinnon

thing.”
    â€œThe schedule?”
    â€œYou know, planning charity events, trips . . .”
    Iris blinked. It was the exact sort of thing she could not picture her sister doing. Leah was a doer, not a planner. The girl had never worn a watch, let alone followed a schedule. And certainly not someone else’s.
    Leah jumped up. “Speaking of schedules! You’re coming to the dress fitting today, right?”
    Iris ran a hand through her hair, which was now mostly dried, and sufficiently tangled. No one had mentioned anything about a fitting. Truthfully, Iris had looked forward to a day alone in the hammock. Especially before she sat her family down for the Paul Talk. The other reason she was here.
    But the look on her sister’s face left no room for begging off. “Can’t wait to meet the dress.”
    Leah pointed a finger at Iris. “Don’t forget about yours,” she said coyly. “The bridesmaid dresses won’t be in for another week, so it’ll be a surprise. But it’s to die for!”
    Iris winced. She had forgotten about the bridesmaid dress. Back at home, in her attic, at least twelve bridesmaid dresses rested in various states of disuse, each tucked away into weepy cardboard boxes, no matter the fact that many had been chosen by some of her dearest friends, bestowed with the grave promise that this dress could be worn again. But Iris knew the cold, hard truth. No such dress existed.

Seven
    P atty’s Bridal Boutique was nestled at the south end of Main Street, in one of the historic brick shop fronts between Sprinkles Ice Cream and Tate’s Pub. Appropriately so, Iris thought to herself. The nervous bride could throw back a shot of tequila while two doors down her maids consoled themselves with a double scoop of cookies and cream. Which is exactly what Iris planned to do, as soon as this fitting was over.
    Honestly, Iris was surprised that Leah had purchased her gown at Patty’s. The boutique was elegant, as were most of the shops in Hampstead village, but it catered to a traditional New England set. She’d been sure Leah would have flown home with an haute couture dress bag flung over her shoulder, having long ago secured a gown from one of the trendier fashion houses on the West Coast.
    Now, she found herself thrust into one of those overly stuffed ornate chairs outside Miss Patty’s stately dressing room, balancing a tray of coffees in her lap, each one a sound representative for its intended recipient: a double espresso for Millie, an iced caramel latte for Iris (with extra whipped cream, which would have to be the last if her dress measurements were to be taken), and a suspect swampy liquid that Leah swore was a rejuvenating green tea.
    â€œSoothes the complexion,” Millie informed Iris, regarding the tea. Though Iris seriously doubted Millie Standish had ever consumed one of the shimmering concoctions herself.
    â€œPut those beverages down,” Millie said now, holding up a veil from the display rack in the corner. “I need your opinion.”
    Iris trudged over. It was a far cry from home, where in Sadie’s case, everything Iris attempted to assert her opinion on, from fashion to pizza toppings, was met with a dubious glare, or in Paul’s case, a dismissive tsk of disapproval. At least here she was being consulted.
    â€œSo, what do you think?” Millie held up a simple veil with an appliquéd headband.
    Iris shrugged. “It’s nice. But I haven’t seen the dress yet.”
    â€œTrust me, this will work.” Millie thrust the veil at Iris, just as another stole her attention. “Oh, my. Look at this!”
    One after another, Millie plucked veils from the rack, piling them into Iris’s outstretched arms until she could no longer see over the cloud of tulle.
    â€œUm, Mom.”
    â€œHush. Put this on,” Millie said, handing her yet another.
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYes, you. We