Linny glanced around. On one wall of the room a floor-to-ceiling window framed the street scene, and she saw well-dressed shoppers ducking in and out of antique stores and beauty salons. On another wall, bright flames danced in a small gas fireplace. The room felt like a friend's cozy living room, not a fancy shop.
“Make yourselves at home and I'll be back in a jiffy. You all might want to look at this short DVD on bridal trends for the year.” Aria pointed to a wide-screen mounted on the wall, handed Linny a remote, and grinned. “Don't pay attention to the models' expressions. Apparently, this is the year of the angry bride.” She whisked out of the room.
The two women sank into the comfortable club chairs. Linny turned to Kate. “I like Aria.”
Kate gave an I-told-you-so smirk and sank deeper into her chair.
Linny hit the Play button. In a creamy voice, the announcer began, “For brides inspired by glamour bride Amal Clooney . . .” Sneering waifs glided down the runway in off-the-shoulder columns of lace. Inexplicably, they wore crownlike diamond tiaras perched on their heads. Good for wearing around Jack's farm after the wedding. Could Aria think she'd be at all interested in dresses like these?
“Black and white make an ultrasophisticated statement,” the announcer went on as the next flock of models gave the world the stink eye as they high-stepped it down the runway. This crowd of brides looked like glammed-up referees in their black-beaded bodices, leather elbow-length gloves, white-and-black-striped tulle skirts, and black capelets. Linny shuddered. “Why are they dressed like that?” she grumbled to Kate, but a whiffling snore came from the velvet chair. Her sister's eyes were closed and she was in dreamland.
Aria glided into the room bearing a silver tray. Pointing her head toward Kate, she smiled and rested the tray on the tasseled ottoman. She sat down, poured the tea, and handed Linny a wafer-thin cup.
“Kate naps hard, so we can talk,” Linny said softly, nodding at her sister. She paused the DVD. Admiring the lily of the valley pattern on her dainty cup and saucer, she took a sip, savoring the crisp, clean taste of peppermint. Gazing at the woman, Linny raised one shoulder. “I don't get fashion. I'm sorry, but those dresses all look like costumes to me.”
Aria nodded, looking tranquil. “Kate said you wanted something simple.” She crossed her long legs. “Some of the gowns are over the top, but this is just to give you ideas. Since we have the fabulous fashion and textile design program at NC State, we have more than our share of talented fashion designers in our midst. The DVD showcases our up-and-coming fashion designers with fresh ideas and dresses that cost about half of what the established designers would charge.”
“Good,” Linny said, bobbing her head. Fresh sounded good, and so did not spending a fortune on a dress.
Aria gave her an appraising look. “You seem more the classic type than a trend follower.” She picked up a cup of tea and took a sip. “Tell me about your wedding.”
She'd asked for it. Linny took a breath for courage. “The groom and I are riding down the aisle on horses, my untrained dog is the ring bearer, and my stepson is sliding in on a zip line.” She gave Aria a sideways glance to check her reaction.
But Aria just shrugged. “I had a bride this morning who wanted a dress suitable for skydiving and a
Star Wars-
inspired dress last week. Whatever makes you happy is what we'll do.”
Linny's hunched shoulders dropped. Aria was being so understanding. She blurted out, “Also, it's my third wedding. I'd feel silly in an over-the-top white gown. Are there plain dresses for third-time brides?”
“Plain? Pishposh.” Aria waved a hand in the air. “Half of my brides have been married before, and third marriages are the new black. You need to wear whatever makes you feel lovely and cherished, and don't give a fig about anything else.” She pointed the remote at the DVD and grinned at Linny. “You're about to come to the best part.”
As the next crop of sullen-looking brides trotted down the runway, the plummy-voiced announcer said, “For today's modern woman who knows who she is and won't be constrained by tradition, we're seeing more playful, fifties-inspired tea-length and knee-length looks, with a range of fabrics, cuts, and colors to suit brides opting for a more casual wedding.”
Linny peered at the screen and felt a tingle run up her spine. With their sophisticated cuts, sweetheart necklines, and bell-shaped skirts, these gowns were retro, whimsical, and feminine. They reminded her of women in her favorite old movies: Lauren Bacall sliding slim arms around Bogie's neck, Grace Kelly smiling seductively over her shoulder at Cary Grant, tiny-waisted Doris Day twinkling at Rock Hudson. She gazed at Aria and nodded.
The shop owner gave her a knowing look, sipped her tea, and turned back to the television.
The last model wore a satin dress with a split tulle skirt over slim Audrey Hepburn cigarette pants. Sitting up straighter, Linny turned to Aria and quietly said, “That's the one.”
Aria smiled at Linny and rose. “Let me go take a look at my computer to get you all the particulars. What's the date of your wedding?”
“Sometime in the next two to three to four months.” Linny flushed, again, feeling like she'd won the award for crazy bride.
But Aria just nodded serenely. “We can do that.” She glided out of the room.
Delighted, Linny gave Kate a gentle nudge to wake her. “I found it,” she said, feeling exultant. “I found the perfect dress.”
Kate rubbed her eyes and frowned. “And you let me sleep through it?”
Linny grinned at her and held up the remote. “It's all right here.”
Kate oohed and aahed and made Linny replay the section on the retro dresses four times. Finally, she clasped her hands together and turned to Linny, her face pink with pleasure. “I just love it. It's elegant, original, and slightly peculiar: just like you.”
At the cash register, Linny handed Aria the credit card for the deposit. The total was a fraction of what she'd spent on her other dresses but still a tidy sum. Jack had told her not to worry about the cost, but the memory of being left penniless by Buck had deeply ingrained in her the importance of frugality. She signed the slip.
Kate snaked a hand through her arm. “You're worth it,” she whispered, guessing what Linny was thinking.
She nodded, reassured. While Aria put in a call to the designer to discuss sizing and accessories, Kate glanced at the messages on her phone and Linny idly stared out the window. She watched the driver of a late-model Jaguar make two unsuccessful attempts to parallel park in a spot in front of Aria's shop and elbowed Kate, grinning. “That's just how I parallel park.”
Kate saw the maneuvers and smiled as the driver finally pulled into the space. But her eyes widened as a man stepped out of the car. “Look,” she whispered.
Linny frowned. Dr. Willis Faison, minister of Sanctifying Redeemer Baptist Church, locked the door of the gleaming Jaguar, smoothed back his silver hair, and strode off.
Kate tapped a finger on her mouth, looking thoughtful. “He talks about the church's tight budget, but he drives a brand new Jag?”
Linny raised a brow. “The Christian thing to say would be âjudge not,' but guess what? I'm judging. I think it's strange.”
“I do, too.” Kate bobbed her head in agreement. “Not a nice man.”
* * *
A few moments later, they buckled in and as Linny carefully wove the Volvo down the narrow brick streets of the neighborhood for the drive home, her phone rang.
Kate held up a hand. “No talking and driving. I'll get it.” Pulling the phone from Linny's purse, she saw the number and smiled. “It's Jack.” She took the call, “Linny Taylor's administrative assistant. May I help you?”
Whatever Jack said made Kate giggle and Linny smiled, liking the fact that the two were so fond of each other. “Tell him we had good luck today and that I'll fill him in when we talk later.”
Kate conveyed her message, listened for a moment, and tilted the phone away from her mouth. “Jack wants you two to meet his mama and daddy for lunch on Saturday at his house. Can you?”
“Please put it on my schedule, Ms. Admin Assistant,” Linny said, a bit of her exuberance at finding the dress starting to leak away.
Kate ended the call and looked over at her. “Has he tried to talk with his mama yet about toning down the engagement party?”
Linny nodded. “He called her right after I got her envelope of ideas, but he didn't make much headway. Ceecee was still in full-bore, extravaganza mode.”
“Oh, dear,” Kate tutted. “So this is more a negotiation than a friendly lunch.”
“Exactly.” Linny drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and glanced over at her sister. “A good relationship with the mother-in-law is a big deal, right?”
“One of the keys to a happy marriage,” Kate said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Linny exhaled. “How am I going to befriend a woman who keeps mooning about perfect Vera and seems to want to take over our wedding?”
“I befriended my mother-in-law,” Kate reminded her.
Linny winced. Jerry's mother was a bible-thumper who drove a jacked-up PT Cruiser. “You're a saint,” she said.
“She shoots squirrels and fixes them for supper but thought I wasn't classy enough for Jerry,” Kate patted her arm. “You'll figure it out.”
Linny gave her sister a wry smile and pointed the car home.
* * *
That night was the second night of her Earth and Sky class, and Linny smiled as she greeted the students filing in. They were much more relaxed this second week, calling out greetings to classmates and joking with one another.
Jessica stopped to talk with her, bouncing on her toes with enthusiasm. “After last week's class I asked all my front desk people to greet each client by their name as soon as they stepped in the door. âGood morning, Mr. Smith. Good morning, Ms. Jones.' The clients are so impressed!” She beamed at Linny. “This stuff is exciting.”
Denny and his band of blue shirts slouched past her, and Linny blew out a sigh of relief that they'd come back for the second class instead of figuring out a way to slip out. Dropouts affected her reputation with the bosses who'd sent students to her class, even if the reasons the students no-showed didn't have anything to do with her being a good instructor. She called out, “Good evening, gentlemen,” but they all pretended not to have heard her.
She'd shake it off. With a pleasant smile pasted on her face, Linny walked to the front of the room and waited for the students to quiet down. “This week we're going to talk more about how to prevent customer service problems from coming up, and figure out how to handle them skillfully if they do. As a bonus, you're each going to have a chance to get some advice from your classmates about how to fix a customer service problem you're having at work.”
Denny snorted and said in a voice just loud enough to be heard, “All my customers are problems. Pains in the butt.”
Several people laughed nervously and glanced at her for her reaction. She knew better than to ignore the remark. Looking around the room, she said in an even tone, “Denny says his customers are pains in the butt. Any thoughts on that observation?”
The silence spun out for a moment, but Bolo Bob spoke in a clear, quiet voice. “I know what Denny means, but being out of work for so long taught me that the only reason we get to draw a paycheck is because of the customers. If there's a problem, we need to fix it and not blame them.” He glanced around the room at the other students, his face the color of a summer tomato though he was calm voiced. “No matter if we're doing lawns, groceries, bank work or law, service is our real business.” He looked directly at Denny, adding, “No offense, man.”
Denny nodded grudgingly.
Linny nodded at the exchange and tried to look impassive while imagining hugging Bob around the neck. His disarming Denny worked so much better than her trying to do it. “Jessica tried something new at work that was smart. Jessica, would you mind sharing that story?”
Jessica leaped to her feet and with a dazzling smile at her classmates, began, “So you all won't believe how something so simple is working so well, but . . .” She launched into her call them-by-name story.
Linny felt her shoulders relax. Tonight was going to be a good night.
And it was, until the last half hour of the class, when she asked students to fill out a survey on how they thought their customers would rate them on the top ten behaviors linked to good service experiences. After a few moments she called out, “Okay, let's talk about a few things you think they'd rate you high on and a few things they'd rate you low.”
One by one, the students reported out, rolling their eyes and shaking their heads as they admitted the areas they needed to improve. When it was Denny's turn to talk, he gave her an insincere smile, his eyes like marbles. “I gave myself a perfect ten. Can't think of a thing customers would rate me low on.”
His two blue shirts sniggered at the other tables and other students were quiet, watching her. Linny felt the back of her neck tingle, remembering her own experience with Denny at the garage. Mr. Perfect Ten hadn't looked up from his computer when she walked in, talked on his cell phone about getting drunk at a party the night before, and acted snippy with her when she asked how much longer her car would be. She'd have given him a minus two.
Pausing for a long moment, she thought hard, aware that the students were shooting questioning looks at one another. Once again, her mentor Amy's voice came to her in a snort of amusement. “Got to call 'em on the baloney, honey, but help 'em save face.”