Page 74 of Bronson
She’s rolled her eyes, huffed and puffed, but I know she is secretly delighted by my intensity.
I’d been stupid to wait so long. Thank God for Mary’s wisdom. And Paige’s love.
I let Paige take care of every aspect of the wedding, save for one tiny detail.
I will pick the dress.
It will be antique white. Satin. Form-fitting. Little cap sleeves showing off her slender arms and smooth shoulders.
It will be Dior. And she will love it.
She insists on paying for the bridesmaid dresses out of her own money. Eventually, I stop arguing with her about it and cave. Paige has decided the gowns will not be matching. They’ll be chosen according to what the woman always dreamed of wearing. Each one unique, like the ladies who would be attending her at the ceremony.
There are thirty of them in total. Half of them in wheelchairs. Plus Jane and Alice.
Paige says there is no way she is choosing between them. She loves them all. And according to Paige, this might be their last chance to be in a wedding.
God, I love this woman.
Luckily, at my disposal, I have a brotherhood of handsome men who share my last name and all have tailors on call. They’ve all fallen in love with Paige. After they met her, it was easy to round up the first twenty-five volunteers. The next five fell in line when I showed them a picture of sweet, single Jane in her nursing scrubs. She has big green eyes, a long blonde ponytail, and an air of innocence about her. I have no doubt there will be a few Bachman Bachelors vying for Jane’s attention at the rehearsal dinner as well as the reception.
It’s dress shopping day for the girls. We stop by the bank first. Paige wants to know the exact amount in her account, so she has a budget. She knows she should have plenty, since I’ve been making her save half her earnings.
When we first opened her account, she knew the rules—half in savings. I’d found out she was cashing all her checks and spending them. I spanked her soundly for it. Since then, I’ve made sure she puts half away.
Not that she needs a penny. I’ll give her everything she desires. But my expectations were clear.
Now, the teller writes the number on a sheet and passes it across the counter to Paige.
I brace myself. I know what’s coming.
Paige reads the number. She balks to the clerk, “But that’s everything I saved, plus as much as I paid Hank for the improvements at the house. And more. It’s more than I’ve ever made at Bachman’s.”
She turns to me, an accusatory look on her face.
I give her a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t let you spend your hard-earned money on fixing up that building. Ingrid lives there.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “How’d you manage it, huh?”
“Quite a bit of it you’ve put in yourself. After our little chat. I paid Hank what you owed him, plus a little extra. He would bring me any cash you’d given him, and I’d deposit it back into your account.”
“Plus a little extra?” she asks, slapping her hand onto her hip.
I shrug. “Plus a little extra. Now take that sassy hand down from your hip.”
There’s a quiet murmur in the crowd behind us. Her face flushes. Her hand drops.
Ms. Beeman elbows her way to the counter, saving the day. “For goodness’ sake, girl. Don’t fight him on it. You sure pick a bad time to throw your feminist notions around. Just look at all these bridesmaids! We’re gonna need every penny that man gave you.”
Lucky for me, Ms. Beeman grabs Paige’s arm and drags her off toward the door. We are due at Daughtry’s.
Glancing over her shoulder, Paige shoots me one long look in false protest. Then a smile.
We both want these ladies to have the very best, today.
I’ve booked the store for the entire day. We’re going to need it. The ladies come to life inside the walls of the boutique. Hooting, hollering, teasing one another. They try on silk, lace, denim. Each one eventually finds the dress of their dreams. The women working rush about. Picking up discarded dresses, grabbing larger sizes from the back. They smile as they work—they know they will earn their largest commission on this day.
Paige’s smile is the biggest of all.
