she corrected him. “This dress was worn by a woman whose fiancé was going off to World War II.”
“Your fiancé isn’t going off to war, is he?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
“No, but you know Pearl Harbor is my favorite movie. Justin, this dress looks like something Kate Beckinsale would have worn if Ben Affleck hadn’t gone missing and they had gotten married in the movie, which you know is what I wish had happened.”
“And that’s why you want the dress?”
“I want it because I like the way I feel in it—glamorous.” She chuckled. “Me…glamorous,” she said in a self-deprecating tone.
“I think you are,” he told her, but she dismissed the compliment with a sarcastic “Yeah, right.”
“Did I tell you the original owner was a schoolteacher?” She didn’t wait for an answer but rushed on. “Oh, and here’s something else. Guess where the wedding took place?”
“In a church?” He knew it was the wrong answer, but he hated playing Twenty Questions, which was what she seemed bent on doing, and all of them were on a subject that he found irritating—her marriage plans.
“You know I’m not getting married in a church,” she chided him. “The bride who wore this dress in 1942 was married at the High Falls.”
“So you’re going to wear a dress that someone else has already worn to get married in the same place where you’re planning your wedding?” The significance escaped him and he didn’t pretend otherwise.
She sighed. “I should have known you wouldn’t get it. I know you find my wedding details boring, but you are one of my best friends. At least you can pretend to be interested. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I am happy,” he lied.
“You don’t sound like it.”
Justin held the phone away from his ear momentarily. Who was this woman? Certainly not the Paige he knew. That Paige would never have gone shopping for a wedding dress the day before the Bulldog Reunion. But then that Paige had never been engaged before, either.
“Justin, you’re there, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I think you cut out for a second, but I hear you now.”
“Good, because I need an honest opinion and you always give me that. You need to tell me if I should get this dress. The salesclerk took a picture of me with her camera phone and she said she can send it to you.”
“Can’t you just show the dress to me this weekend?”
“If I wait till then, someone else might buy it. The clerk told me she’s already had several people asking about it. Besides, there’s no room in the schedule this weekend for us to leave the reunion and go look at it. If I’m going to get this dress, I have to buy it today.”
“But, Paige, you never make impulse purchases,” he reminded her.
“That’s why I need your help. Besides. You’re my man of honor. It’s your duty to help me select a dress.”
He frowned. “Shouldn’t your fiancé be the one helping you make that decision?”
“He can’t. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.”
Justin wondered briefly if getting rid of Michael Cross could be as easy as showing him a picture. That alone tempted him to tell Paige to send the photo so he could forward it to Michael.
Paige didn’t wait for his consent. “The salesclerk is sending the picture now. Tell me when you get it.”
Justin’s phone beeped, indicating he had a message. With the touch of a button he found himself staring at a photo of Paige in a long white dress. It fell from her shoulders to the floor in a straight line that made her look taller than her five foot two inches. She looked graceful and feminine standing with her hands folded in front of her. Very different from the Paige he knew. She had always taken great pleasure in being a tomboy. Normally she wore her long brown hair in a ponytail, but today it fell across her shoulders in a way that reminded him of the film stars of the 1940s. No wonder she felt glamorous. The dress was stunning on her. The old-fashioned style suited her, reminding him that she’d never been one for fashion trends yet she always managed to look good.
“I didn’t lose you, did I? Justin? Are you there?” she called out.
“Yeah, I’m here.” He couldn’t tell her that the reason for the dead air was that seeing her in the wedding dress had taken his breath away. The thought that she would be wearing it for another guy made him sick with envy.
“So what do you think?” she demanded.
There was only one answer he could give her. “I think you should buy it.”
“Did you say buy it? You’re cutting out on me. Are you in your car?”
“Yes, but it’s not moving. I just went through the drive-thru of a fast-food restaurant and I’m eating French-toast sticks in the parking lot. Paige, I think you should buy the dress. It suits you.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes.”
“I am so glad you said that because I need a dress. You do realize the wedding is only seven weeks away, don’t you? It’s a good thing I had the summer off from teaching and moved up here, because I never would get everything done otherwise.”
“You’re happy then?”
“Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re giving up a lot. Your job, your friends…”
“Marriage will be worth it,” she said with confidence. “And I’m not giving up my two best friends. Oh shoot. I just got a low-battery warning on my phone. I’ve got to run. Thanks for calling me just when I needed you.”
“Paige, wait! Before you hang up I need to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Could you come a little early? I want you to teach me to dance.”
“You know how to dance,” he reminded her.
“I’m not good at it and you know it,” she chastised him. “Michael took me to this nightclub in Duluth and it was the worst date we’ve ever had. He loves to dance, but once he realized I have no rhythm, we hardly danced at all. You have to help me so I don’t embarrass him.”
Embarrass him? Anger nearly had Justin telling Paige exactly what he thought of Michael Cross and his dancing skills, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. She’d still think the guy was the prize of a lifetime. “Paige, you don’t like to dance. Why not just tell him that?”
“I might like it if I were better at it,” she said. “I thought about taking lessons but that freaks me out. There’d be other people watching me make a fool of myself. At least it doesn’t matter if I look like a fool in front of you.”
