No Strings Attached: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eight by Julie Moffett Page B

to save this situation. But what the heck did I know about wedding dresses?
    “Hey, no worries, Basia.” I cleared my throat, tried to sound confident. “We’ll just cut the vagina right off the dress and it will be perfect.”
    Holy cow. Had I just said vagina aloud?
    “I meant the rose .” I backtracked. “We’ll cut the rose off the dress and it will be perfect.”
    Oh. My. God.
    Basia burst into tears—again.
    That seemed to snap Amanda out of her horrified trance. She hung the dress on the hook and rushed over to Basia.
    “I am so sorry.” She patted Basia on the back, helping her to her feet. “Don’t you worry. We’re going to make this right.”
    Basia staggered to a chair, grabbed the bridal robe and sank into the chair. She snatched the champagne bottle off the table and took a swig without using a glass. Apparently after viewing that dress, only straight from the bottle would do. She took a few more swigs and burped. “I can’t believe this. I totally can’t believe this.”
    Amanda seemed genuinely concerned. “You ladies just sit here and relax. I’ve got to make a call and I’ll be right back.” She dashed out of the room.
    Basia took a minute before she seemed to get it together enough to speak to me. I was too afraid to open my mouth again.
    “Lexi, what are we going to do?”
    Like I would know. What a total freaking disaster. But she was waiting for an answer and I was the maid of honor.
    This time I chose my words carefully. “Amanda said they would make it right, so they’ll make it right. If not, we’ll find a new dress. This is a bridal dress store, right? There are lots of dresses out there. One of them has to be right for you.”
    “Lexi, wedding dresses have to be ordered months in advance. Custom-made dresses take even longer. I’m petite. I don’t fit the ones that are off-the-rack. I’ll never find another dress.”
    “Yes, you will,” I said firmly. “The right dress is out there, probably right here in the store. I’m sure of it. We’ll ask if we can buy one of the sample gowns that the brides try on. A few alterations, and boom , you’ve got the perfect dress.”
    Technically I had no idea what I was talking about since I knew exactly zip about wedding gowns, but I spoke with confidence on her behalf. I’d learned from her that sometimes confidence was half the battle. Besides, the odds were high there was a dress out there that would fit her. The unknown variable was whether or not she would love it. As that seemed to be an important—although subjective—criteria, I couldn’t calculate the odds with certainty.
    Basia drained the rest of the champagne from the bottle and set it on the coffee table. “I hope this isn’t a bad omen about the start of my marriage.” She looked at her ring and got all teary again.
    I had to put a stop to that before the waterworks started again. “Don’t be ridiculous, Basia. There are no such things as omens. Your wedding to Xavier is going to be perfect. This is just a small snafu with a dress.”
    “It’s not just a dress, Lexi. It’s the dress. The most important dress of my life.”
    “And we are going to deal. We’ve got this. It’s just a minor setback, that’s all.”
    “You think so?”
    “I know so.”
    “Oh, God. This is so stressful. Can you pour me another glass of champagne?”
    “Of course, I can.” I grabbed a new bottle and unwound the foil. “When Amanda comes back, we’ll find out what the options are for fixing the dress and then we can look for a backup one, just in case. We survived in a jungle for several days. We can survive the process of finding the perfect wedding dress for you, right?”
    At this point, I was actually missing the jungle, which wasn’t a good omen either, except I didn’t believe in omens.
    To Basia’s credit, she inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right, Lexi. I’m overreacting. Everything is going to be fine.”
    “Of course, it will be.” Relief