Blue Heart Blessed Read Free Page A

lovely!” Mom said. “Now all Elisabeth needs is a groom.”
    I clearly remember making a face. “Does she have to have one of those?” I said.
    Mom had laughed. Sweetly, not heartlessly. “It’s kind of hard to get married without one,” she had replied.
    Ain’t that the truth.

    I don’t know when my fascination with everything bridal truly began. My mom has assured me that all little girls are captivated by wedding gowns and beautiful brides and the whole queen-for-a-day idea. It’s the essence of fairy-tale, she has always said. I don’t think she ever found it odd that I when I was a kid, I made a new bride paper doll every six months, sometimes giving one paper doll six or seven different gowns to choose from. Nor that I never drew a groom.
    As I grew older, I gave myself over to dreams of becoming a fashion designer but the truth is, I’ve always had far more vision than talent. I can envision something grand and plan it, but I can’t execute. My dad, God rest him, used to tell me someone has to be the brains behind an operation. Someone has to have the vision, the big picture in mind. I remember telling him once that Michelangelo didn’t just plan the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He dreamed it and made it happen. And my dad had asked me, How many Michelangelos can the world hold?
    It’s probably a good thing I majored in marketing and graphic design instead of art and fashion. I would have been a lousy designer. But I am an excellent critic. I know how something should look. It is both to my shame and my credit that I spend my evenings watching movies with wedding scenes and critiquing the dresses. It’s to my shame because obviously that’s a pitiful pastime for a jilted bride. But it’s to my credit because I prove to myself every evening that I know what I’m talking about. That I’m no dummy when it comes to what I allow in my store.
    I don’t accept every gown that is brought to me. Nor even every gown I inquire about. I don’t take yellowed gowns or hopelessly outdated gowns or gowns that are just plain ugly. And yes, there is such a thing as an ugly wedding dress.
    I take gowns that have character, style and a uniqueness about them. I buy them from people who come in off the street and from estate sales and Internet sites and thrift stores. Most of the time I know the story behind the dress. I know why a dress isn’t being kept in a snug box in the attic or the spare bedroom closet. It’s not always because the marriage didn’t work out, or that the couple needs money, although that happens a lot. Sometimes a spouse will die and the widow, after time has passed, wants to date again but the dress she has kept holds her back. Sometimes, and this happens more often than not, a woman will bring her dress to me because she loves it and wants to share it. I had a gal tell me once, “Why should this enchanting gown be worn only once? It’s a masterpiece. It’s meant to be worn, not boxed up.” I took her picture and her testimony and put both on my website. Her comment is practically my motto.
    And yes, there are the dresses that find their way to my boutique because the bride never got the chance to wear the gown but she couldn’t bring herself to take it back to the store where she bought it.
    Yes, that’s how my dress got here.
    And yes, I really do want to sell it.
    And no, I didn’t already own Something Blue when Daniel broke up with me.
    Something Blue was what I created for myself at my mother and Aunt L’Raine’s suggestion after my world fell apart. After I had cancelled the photographer, the cake, the flowers, the reception hall, and the caterer. After I realized I needed to reinvent myself, start fresh and get myself out of the company where I was working.
    Where Daniel worked.
    There is no price tag on my wedding dress at the moment. There was one when I first opened Something Bluesix months ago . But I began to hyperventilate the first time someone tried on my dress. As