Annalise Starke had known her mother was going to die eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
At fifteen she had moved with her mother back to her home country of Australia with half a heart (metaphorically, of course) and her mo...
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𓇼
I stared out the window, watching the Spanish Oak's fly by. Today's the day, I thought bitterly.
Today I'm going dress shopping with Cambrie and Meredith—Sylvie was supposed to come, since she's one of the bridesmaids (at my begging request) but something came up, and she wasn't able to get out of it.
I hadn't wanted to be a bridesmaid, but after I'd come down from my existential crisis the night of the engagement, she'd practically jumped me. How could I say no when she was an inch away from me with hands clasped and a hoping smile?
After twenty minutes, I no longer recognized my surroundings. The Spanish Oak's had melted away and instead I stared at grassy knolls alongside the highway. I hadn't expected her to take us all the way to Georgia for the dress fitting, but we had long passed the exit for Cressridge.
"Look, there it is!" Cambrie shouted excitedly from the passenger seat. I thought she'd meant we had arrived, but at the end of her finger was the silhouette of downtown Savannah.
I guess she didn't get down here much.
After another fifteen minutes, Meredith pulled off the highway. A couple of turns, and then she pulled into a parking lot. The shopping center in front of us had three boutiques side by side: Blush Bridal, Everthine Jewelry, and La Belle Shoes. Their font and decor made it seem like they all have the same owner.
Meredith pulled into a spot right at the front and turned off the car. We were silent as we climbed out and she locked the car. Our appointment was at 𝟔:𝟑𝟎 𝐏.𝐌. so we were right on time.
The bell dinged on the top of the door as we entered. There was a woman behind the front counter who was talking to a middle-aged woman with a measuring tape hung around her neck.
"Welcome in!" The first woman greeted us.
The seamstress turned to face our party. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Brantham!" Her French accent was thick as she greeted us. "You're here for your six-thirty fitting, no?"
Meredith stepped in front of us, nodding. "Yes," she confirmed. "This is my daughter, Cambrie, and my future daughter-in-law, Annalise." She motioned to the both of us. "We're here for bridesmaids dresses—for these two, and three others who aren't here," Sylvie and my cousins, Georgie and Lucie.
The woman nodded. "Parfaite! My name is Cecile, and I'm the head bridal consultant and on-site seamstress. I will be consulting on your appointment today. Do you have any questions before we begin?" When Meredith shook her head, Cecile led us back, father into the store.
She took us to a an area with a hallway leading to changing rooms, a pedestal in front of the mirrors, and racks and racks of dresses.
"What color were you thinking, again, Mom?" Cambrie asked, admiring a rack of blush pink gowns. As the volume of dresses grew, they were sorted by shade, which shifted into orange, and then yellow.
