Designing Abigail Kilton's Dress - #1 The Wedding Dress

Chapter 4 - I Don't Like It

All the bustle died instantly, and the chaos transformed into a harmonious dance where the graceful movements of the workers created pure magic. Their delicate choreography was maintained as people flashed their smiles and hummed morning greetings towards the special guests.

Everything was in its place and a passage to the hall was cleared, or at least it would have been if Kayleigh Moore wasn't still kneeling in the doorway clutching her bag and portfolio.

Ms Weston cleared her throat ever so slightly and gave her another one of her pointed looks. Kayleigh snapped into action. She picked up her remaining items off the floor and scrambled to the nearest corner to allow Ms and Mr Kilton to pass.

Greta Borg welcomed them with what was clearly a well-practised smile and open arms.

"Good morning, Mr Kilton. Ms Kilton. How are you both?"

Maxwell Kilton ended his phone call abruptly and stuffed his device into his pocket before pulling Greta into a fatherly hug. "We're good, Greta, sweetheart. How about you?"

"Wonderful, of course," she sang back as she set her hands on his back.

Abigail Kilton pushed her way past them and looked about the room.

"Where's Jean Luc?" she demanded furrowing her perfect, blond eyebrows. 

Kayleigh thought the many photos of the woman on the internet and on the magazines didn't do her justice. Apart from being an incredibly talented business woman and style icon, she was unbelievably beautiful.

Greta turned her attention to the young heiress and replied without batting an eye. "He is on leave today, but not to worry, Ms Kilton, everything is in perfect order and we can proceed with today's fitting. You are going to be a stunning bride."

Ms Kilton did not seem very pleased at first, but her expression soon changed into one of excitement as she figured there was not much she could do about the situation.

"So?" the young woman prompted clapping her hands together. "Is it ready then? Can I see my dress?"

Greta signalled to her team. As though they had rehearsed it a hundred times, three people stepped forward. One of them, the boy who bumped into Kayleigh earlier, offered a tray upon which sat three flutes of the expensive champagne. Mr and Ms Kilton took one but no one moved in for the third flute. Kayleigh guessed the fiancé didn't make it after all.

The other two boys pulled on the screens between them to reveal the magnificent dress that was brought in just moments before. The room fell silent in anticipation and everyone held their breath. If a pin happened to drop at that moment, it would have sounded like an explosion.

Then Mr Kilton turned to Greta Borg and smiled.

"It's beautiful, Greta, truly," he said. "Kilton's House of Fashion is so lucky to have you."

A sigh of relief was released collectively and the room broke out into coy smiles and silent cheers. Until...

"I don't like it."

It was like someone cursed at church.

All eyes turned on Greta, worried and fearful, but Greta's eyes were fixed on Abigail Kilton.

"Excuse me?" Greta asked politely, her features still calm, her smile still pleasant.

"I don't like it," Abigail repeated with even more conviction.

Mr Kilton put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Abigail, Sweet Pea, this is a work in progress, the first fitting after the toile."

"That's right," Greta affirmed. "We still have ten more layers of chiffon to add to the skirt. The underlining needs to be enforced and we have another shipment of Swarovski crystals coming in next week. We will be adding them to the train and veil. What don't you like? We're still in time to make adjustments."