Page 72 of The Grump Next Door
“The beading will be different,” she warns.
“She won’t care if you make it work.”
“I’ll need four hours minimum.”
“You’ll have three.”
She snorts. “You remind me of me. Annoying.”
“I get that a lot.”
My phone buzzes.
DEAN:Status?
ME:Found a dress. Might work. Seamstress currently calling me names in German.
DEAN:Promising.
ME:How’s Ivy?
DEAN:Drinking wine at 11 a.m.
ME:Ironic choice.
DEAN:Mason’s stress-baking.
ME:What are you doing?
DEAN:Googling wedding dress stores in case you need backup.
ME:Your confidence is overwhelming.
DEAN:Realism.
ME:I’m not failing.
DEAN:I know.
That stops me. Two words. But the way he just… believes I’ll fix this. Like it’s a fact.
ME:Three hours. I’ll be back.
DEAN:Copy.
Greta clears her throat. “Your boyfriend’s texting can wait.”
“He’s not my—”
“Sure.” She’s already working, pins in her mouth. “Not boyfriend with the credit card and worried texts.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Always is with the good ones.”
***
Three hours and fourteen minutes later, I’m back at the estate with a garment bag and barely contained panic.
