Free To Love and To Perish by Laura Durham Page B

skirt that looked remarkably like one of the bridesmaids’ dresses from their casual collection.
    â€œI apologize for my delay,” Fern called out ashe burst inside the salon along with a blast of frigid air.
    Lady’s face lit up. “We didn’t know you were coming.”
    Fern tossed his long black coat on top of Kate and linked his arm through the bride’s. “I never miss a fitting, sweetie. I help with the whole look, you know. The hair is just the finishing touch.” He turned to Kitty and winked at her. “Is that an Escada suit?”
    â€œWhy don’t we see the dress?” Jessica gestured to the back of the salon. “You’re going to be thrilled with the alterations.”
    Fern picked up a feathered hair comb from a glass display as he followed Jessica and Lady to the back. “Have you considered wearing feathers with your tiara?”
    I made a mental note to restrain Fern from outfitting Lady in a feather headdress before the fitting was over.
    â€œNow, Annabelle…,” Kitty held my arms so that Lady walked out of earshot. Her forehead furrowed into rows of wrinkles. “I need your advice.”
    â€œI promise he’ll be perfectly appropriate on the wedding day.”
    â€œI’m not worried about Fern.” Kitty gave a wave of her hand and smiled. “We’re having some problems with the groom’s side.”
    I nodded solemnly. Problems with the groom’s family were nothing new with this wedding. I’d finally convinced Kitty that she couldn’t do anything about the groom’s mother selecting a hot pink fringed gown to wear to the wedding, but Iknew it was killing her inside. I hoped she didn’t want to rehash Gowngate again.
    â€œYou know that some of the groom’s family is coming over from Ireland.” She waited for me to nod before she continued. “I’m concerned that they might get intoxicated at the wedding.”
    Might? I didn’t know how to respond. The Irish weddings I’d planned were some of the wildest parties I’d ever attended, with guests dancing and singing until the wee hours. I suspected that had something to do with the fact that they were usually drunk before the ceremony even began.
    â€œYou see, many of the guests are from our church in Dallas and they don’t drink at all,” Kitty continued. “Do you think there is a way to keep the drinking under control?”
    Not invite the Irish guests, I felt like saying. Instead I plastered a big smile on my face. “We could have a separate nonalcoholic bar with some fun drinks like flavored tonics and lemonades. We can pass them out as well. That way people are encouraged to take something nonalcoholic instead of going to the bar.”
    â€œGreat idea,” Kitty said. “Let’s do that.”
    I knew the reality was that guests who wanted a drink would find the bar no matter what we did. We could have showgirls passing out lemonade and that still wouldn’t make it more appealing to people who wanted a real drink. Of course if alcohol was a problem, I suspected showgirls weren’t on the approved list, either.
    Kitty and I continued to the back of the salon, where Lady stood on a round platform in herwedding dress, looking at her reflection from all angles in the ornately carved wall-sized mirrors. Fern knelt on the ground next to her, fussing with the veil.
    Kitty pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You look more beautiful than you did the night you won the Miss Dallas pageant.”
    Lady beamed. The ivory satin ball gown had a heavily beaded strapless bodice and a champagne-colored sash that cinched the waist and draped down the back of the cathedral-length train. A sparkling diamond necklace, which I didn’t doubt was real, rested on Lady’s exposed neckline. With her pageant hair and picture-perfect smile, she did look like she could have stepped off a Miss America