Chương 5
Dad was alone in the kitchen drinking coffee.
He looked as though he had slept in his clothes.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Upstairs.”
“Ashley?”
“In her room.”
Emily’s shoulders tightened.
Dad noticed.
“She knows not to come down.”
I went upstairs to retrieve the gown.
The bathroom door was still closed.
Nothing had moved.
I found a clean cotton sheet in the linen closet and wrapped the dress the way Melissa had instructed.
As I carried it down, Ashley’s bedroom door opened.
She stood there in sweatpants with swollen eyes.
Neither of us spoke.
I kept walking.
“Mike.”
I stopped.
Emily was at the bottom of the stairs.
Ashley saw her.
Her jaw shifted.
“I didn’t know it cost that much.”
Emily did not answer.
Ashley looked at the bundle in my arms.
“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew.”
Something in Emily’s face closed.
I felt it happen before she spoke.
“That is not an apology.”
Ashley’s eyes flashed.
“I’m trying.”
“No.”
Emily’s voice remained calm.
“You’re explaining why you think it would have been okay if the dress were cheaper.”
Ashley opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Emily picked up her purse.
“I don’t need you to understand me today.”
She looked at Ashley directly.
“But I’m done helping everyone else misunderstand you.”
Ashley’s face reddened.
Mom appeared in the hallway behind her.
“Emily, that’s enough.”
There it was.
The old reflex.
The rescue.
Emily looked at me.
Not at Mom.
At me.
And this time I did not hesitate.
“No,” I said.
Mom stared down at me.
“It isn’t enough.”
I adjusted the wrapped gown against my arms.
“It hasn’t been enough for a long time.”
Mom came down three steps and stopped.
For once, there was no immediate answer waiting behind her teeth.
Ashley leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded tightly enough to make herself look smaller.
Dad set his coffee mug on the counter.
Nobody moved.
Emily stood beside the front door with her purse over one shoulder, and I could feel the distance she had put between herself and the rest of us without taking a single step.
Mom looked at me first.
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’ve all spent years calling cruelty humor because it was easier than dealing with Ashley when she got defensive.”
Ashley scoffed.
“There it is.”
Mom turned toward her.
“Not now.”
“No, let him say it.”
She pushed away from the doorframe.
“Apparently everybody hates me anyway.”
“Nobody said that.”
“You basically did.”
“I said we protected you.”
“From what?”
Dad let out a tired breath.
“Consequences.”
Ashley looked at him as if he had slapped her.
“You too?”
He did not answer immediately.
That silence did more than a lecture could have.
Ashley’s face changed.
Not softened.
Collapsed inward.
She blinked hard and looked away.
I hated that part of me noticed.
I hated even more that another part of me wanted to rush upstairs and tell her I did not mean it.
That was the reflex.
The old machinery was still running.
Emily touched my arm.
“We need to go.”
I nodded.
Mom stepped down another stair.
“Emily.”
Emily paused.
Mom’s voice became careful.
“I’m sorry about the dress.”
Emily waited.
“I should have stopped Ashley before it got that far.”
Ashley gave a disbelieving laugh.
Mom turned sharply.
“I said not now.”
“You’re all acting like I murdered someone.”
Dad rubbed his face.
“That sentence is exactly the problem.”
Ashley’s mouth opened.
Then she disappeared into her room and slammed the door.
The sound shook a framed photograph in the upstairs hallway.
Mom flinched.
Emily did not.
We left.
The bridal shop smelled like steamed fabric and vanilla candles.
Melissa met us at the door before regular opening.
She was probably in her forties, with silver-blond hair clipped at the back and a measuring tape looped around her neck.
She did not react dramatically when I unwrapped the gown.
That helped.
She examined the lace.
Then the hem.
Then the beading along the waist.
Emily stood with both hands clasped in front of her.
“Well?” I asked.
Melissa glanced up.
“I need to get the conservator here.”
“That bad?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She touched one section near the skirt.
“The good news is the chlorine exposure was brief.”
Emily swallowed.
“And the bad?”
“The bad news is chlorine is not the only problem.”
She pointed to a faint blue-green smear near the lower lace.
I leaned closer.
“What is that?”
“Possibly pool dye or algae treatment.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Melissa immediately added, “Possibly removable.”
A second woman arrived twenty minutes later carrying a hard black case.
Her name was Nora, and she wore reading glasses attached to a red cord.
She had the brisk manner of someone accustomed to panicked brides and damaged fabrics.
She asked how long the gown had been in the pool.
Whether anyone had pulled it across concrete.
Whether it had been exposed to direct sunlight afterward.
Whether the pool used chlorine tablets or a salt system.
I called Dad.
He checked.
Standard chlorine.
Nora nodded as though that answer completed one corner of a puzzle.
Then she asked the question Emily had been avoiding.
“How attached are you to this specific dress?”
Emily looked at her.
“My mother chose it with me.”
Nora stopped taking notes.
“Okay.”
That one word carried more respect than most of my family had managed in a week.
“We treat this as preservation first and wedding use second.”
Emily’s brows drew together.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not going to destroy the gown trying to make it wearable in five days.”
Emily stared at the dress.
“If it can’t be worn?”
“Then we preserve what can be preserved and find another solution for Saturday.”
Her lower lip trembled.
She pressed it flat.
I reached for her hand.
She let me take it.
May you like
Nora gave us a preliminary estimate.
Eight hundred dollars for emergency treatment if the staining lifted easily.
