he said.
“I’m getting married.”
“Congratulations.” Mr. Westervelt stroked the cat in his lap.
“That’s a pretty dress over there,” she said.
“Would you like to try it on?”
“I’m not having a church wedding.”
“Try it on, why not?”
She shook her head, gazing at the dress.
“Margaret, slip the dress off Esmerelda and show this young lady where my bathroom is. She can change there.”
I struggled the dress off the mannequin. My fingers were clumsy and slow; my head buzzed. Cradling the dress in my arms, I led the girl into his apartment. She followed so close behind me she stepped on the heel of my sneaker. I turned on the light in the bathroom, surrendered the dress, and left her alone. I went back to the shop. Soon, I heard the whisper of heavy fabric. The girl stood beside the pulpit. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in the stained-glass window, a halo of dust motes danced around her. The dress and the girl glowed. My eyes stung.
“It has your name on it. Slip out of it and we’ll see what I’ve got in the way of a box,” he said.
“I couldn’t.”
“You’ll be doing me a favor, get it off my hands. Not much call for bridal gowns in a store like this. Take it as my wedding present.”
I swallowed. The back of my throat burned.
“Thank you,” the girl said.
She swirled around, graceful as a Fall Foliage Festival Princess, and vanished into the apartment.
Mr. Westervelt opened a Lady’s Surprise Box.
“Margaret, look in the jewel case and pick out some nice earrings for our bride.”
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