Page 24 of Reign of Fate

That’s the first time anyone has asked me what I wanted. Even for my first wedding, my mother was overly involved in choosing my dress. I did like what I wore, but it would have been nice to try on the dresses I wanted.

“This is my second marriage. I’m a widow,” I explain. “Something elegant, refined, and tasteful. And not white.”

“That seems doable,” Eviva replies with a smile. “But you forgot to add youthful. You’re still a very young woman.” She hands me a cup of coffee. “I’m glad you found love again.”

Eviva is a middle-aged woman who takes great care of herself. She’s fashionable and chic. Her blonde hair is styled in an easy-to-manage bob, and her makeup is perfect. It’s no wonder she owns a boutique. But she’s also kind and sensitive and a great listener. She goes through the racks, pulling dresses she thinks I would like, and tells me to take a look and choose a few more.

Evangeline gets into the fun and picks out several dresses for me to try on as well. Then she sits back and says, “I’m waiting for the fashion show,” and takes a bite of a blueberry scone.

I try on seven gowns, all very beautiful and classy, but none that wow me. Then Eviva hands me a rose-gold gown that I never would have chosen for myself. “Trust me,” she says with a grin. “I think this is your dress. Not many could pull off this style, but I’m sure you can.” She gives me a wink. What have I got to lose?

“Why not,” I respond and, with Eviva’s help, step into the gown.

“Don’t look,” she orders. “Let me make it perfect.” Eviva fusses, pinning the dress a little tighter at the waist. “You have such a tiny waist. I used to be that slim once.” She laughs. Then she steps back and gasps. “You’re the vision of an angel from heaven. That dress was made for you.”

“Can I look now?”

“Step out and onto the platform. That way, Mrs. Di Morte can see it too.” Eviva guides me onto the rounded step, where mirrors are all around so we can see the dress from every angle.

Evangeline gasps. “Oh my God, that’s the one! It’s spectacular.”

I stare into the mirror at thesweetheart bodice with an off-the-shoulder neckline, circular flounce, and short sleeves. A deft fit accentuates the bust, waist, and hips, evoking a trumpet silhouette. The bodice is embellished with entwined embroidery that flows into the sleek skirt, which flares with layers of tulle in a matching design.

It’s the most exquisite gown I’ve ever worn. The design fits my body, accentuating my curves in all the right places. Everything about this dress makes me feel magnificent.

“I’d style your hair up and to the side in a very neat bun,” Eviva says, lifting my hair from my shoulders and holding it up and back to get the full effect.

“She’s right,” Evangeline jumps in. “It shows off your long neck. What do you think?” she asks.

I’m still staring into the mirror, and through the reflection, I glance at Evangeline. “I love it. I didn’t think I’d find anything this perfect.”

Evangeline grins from ear to ear. “Yay!” she exclaims, raising her hands in the air to celebrate. “You’ll have to tell your maid of honor what you’d like her to wear to complement your dress, and we need to look for Adriana. And we can cross this off the list.”

“I was hoping you’d be my maid of honor,” I say. “I think we’ve grown close, and I consider you a good friend. Maybe my best friend.”

Evangeline gets out of her chair and races toward me, hopping up on the pedestal to hug me tightly. “I’d be honored.”

“Now, careful of the pins,” Eviva says with a chuckle. “We can’t have the bride get injured.” We laugh along with her. “Why don’t I help Elisa out of her dress, and you can take a look at what dresses you would like to try on.”

“Can I have another minute?” I ask. I’m not ready to take it off yet. I can’t explain it, but it makes me feel beautiful.

“Of course, dear. Take all the time you need.” Evangeline and Eviva begin looking at dresses for Evangeline while I admire my wedding dress.

Several hours later, we finally leave the shop. The dresses have been measured for alterations and will be ready by the end of the week. Eviva has even given us the name of a children’s store where we may be able to find something for Adriana.

We’re both exhausted by the time we’re done and ready for lunch. I suggest a deli down the street, but Francesco doesn’t like the idea.

“That’s not a good idea. Too many people,” he says.

“It’s right across the street, and we’re starving. You gentlemen have to eat too,” Evangeline reminds them innocently.

“Massimo, check it out,” Francesco orders in a none-too-happy tone.

Massimo is gone and back in no time at all. “There’s only a couple of tables. I told the guy to keep the last one open.”

I’m not used to all this caution. Maybe because I’ve rarely left the house in the last few years. It stands to reason that Evangeline would garner this much attention, being Raffaele’s wife. We walk across the street to the quaint deli and place our orders. Francesco has us sit at the corner table with him, while Massimo keeps watch outside.

“Doesn’t Massimo need to eat?” I ask Francesco.

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