like he seemed to do with everything else. That, she realized, was something she should not dwell on, and she hurried to put on her makeup.
Marlo was barely dressed when she heard a commotion at her front door. Three women in billowing skirts were trying to break in. Tiffany came through first, in black tulle, looking as gloomy as if a funeral dirge were droning in the background. Jenny flitted in next, wearing a burgundy sheath with black lace inserts in the front and back, which made her look as if she was wearing a nightgown. She stood on tiptoes and gave Marlo a peck on the cheek. “You look stunning as always, sis.”
After Jenny, Linda arrived in a diaphanous chiffon number and Becky in royal blue. Christine, looking sour, refused to remove her jacket to show everyone what was underneath, citing ten extra pounds and several safety pins holding the dress together. Angela in Kermit green looked as tart as a lime.
“More proof that Angie will never find a man who can tolerate her,” Lucy whispered to Marlo, and received a poke in her ribs for the effort.
The Bridesmaid Club had arrived in full force.
“How’s your love life, Marlo?” Linda inquired over the last of her chicken Kiev.
This was the moment Marlo had been dreading—more so this year than others. Inevitably, when the luncheon conversation waned, her love life became the topic of choice. Her friends’ favorite activity was living vicariously through her dates. After a few years of marriage, they were beginning to view dating as a blast from the past and wanted to be reminded of how wonderfully romantic it was. They’d obviously forgotten the actual realities of dating—being fixed up, stood up or waiting by a phone that didn’t ring. In Marlo’s experience, dating could only be romanticized in hindsight.
Before Marlo got her mouth open to say as much, Lucy unexpectedly took the stage and blurted, “Marlo has met someone interesting.” Every head turned in Marlo’s direction.
“Does he fit the Cinderella List?” Jenny blurted.
Marlo nudged her ankle, not wanting Jenny to discuss their childhood game. Even louder, Jenny said, “I didn’t know your ideal man actually existed, Marlo.”
“List? What list?” Becky pounced on Jenny’s words. “An ‘ideal’ man actually exists? And you’ve found him, Marlo? Have you been holding out on us?”
“I think that’s absolutely wonderful!” Until that moment, Angela had been unusually quiet. Everyone turned to stare at her. Angela was a lot of things, but gracious wasn’t usually one of them. Angela’s features flushed with happiness. “I’m overjoyed, Marlo. It makes everything even more perfect.”
The group was taken aback by the transformation. Angela never beamed. She waited a beat before announcing, “I’m getting married!” The room was silent, as the astonishing news sank in, then everyone erupted in a cacophony of happy chatter.
The news hit Marlo like a piano dropped off a ten-story building. Angela married? Angela married? Bossy, controlling, frenzied and career-oriented Angela who had never had a nice thing to say about any man she’d ever dated? She was getting married?
Now Marlo was the only single woman in the Bridesmaid Club and was surprised to realize that she actually cared that she was losing this elusive race. She’d fallen behind in an unspoken marriage competition she hadn’t even meant to join. She felt an unexpected twinge of longing. Even more confusing were the images of Jake Hammond that skittered through her mind…the broad shoulders, a flashing white smile turned her way, his surreptitious peanut butter sandwiches with Bette….
Then a more practical thought came to her: if Angela got married, it meant another wedding—with cake and flowers and bridesmaids—and another dress. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Bridesmaid Club would survive and thrive another year.
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