Page 8 of One-of-a-Kind Bride

“I know. I’m just excited to see it in person.”

“I’ll go up now. Be back down in ten.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll help you bring up your bags.”

“No need. I’ve got it. Just get ready for my grand entrance.”

Julie nuzzled Muffy’s head. “Did you hear that? I’m getting my very own fashion show,” she told the pup.

And minutes later, Taylor was unpacked and dressed in Julie’s off-one-shoulder Cinderella dress. She had to admit the gown traveled well. So, no worries there. And the veil was a perfect match.

“Ready or not, here I come,” she called out.

“All ready down here,” Julie practically squealed from the base of the stairs.

Taylor began her descent gracefully, the French taffeta fabric parting with ease as she took each step, the train behind her fanning out in grand Scarlett O’Hara fashion.

Tears entered Julie’s eyes and there was no mistaking the emotion on her face. This was why Taylor loved designing gowns. This was the big payoff, seeing the joy on the bride-to-be’s face. She didn’t always get that honor or had the luxury but today, because it was Julie, Taylor was able to witness it firsthand.

“It’s…breathtaking, Taye.”

Taylor made it down the staircase, just as Julie’s cell phone rang. Julie frowned and broke eye contact to glance at the phone on the entry table, clearly unhappy this special moment had been interrupted. “It’s Miguel. I’d better get this.”

Taylor nodded.

“Hi. What’s up… Oh no. Miguel, I’ll be right there. No, don’t call a tow service. I’m coming to get you.”

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked as Julie put down the phone.

“Miguel’s car died right in the middle of town. Do you mind if I go get him? I shouldn’t be long.”

“You don’t have to ask. Go, get your fiancé. I’ll be here when you get home, not to worry.”

“Okay, thanks! I won’t be long.”

“Take as much time as you need…”

Julie was already heading for the front door before all the words were out.

Julie started up her car in the driveway and took off down the street.

Just as she was ready to head back upstairs, she noticed Julie left the front door ajar.

And then she caught sight of Muffy’s wiggling little blond bottom scooting out the door.

“No, Muffy! No. Come back! Muffy, Muffy!”

The little tyrant didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. By the time Taylor made it to the door, the pup was zipping down the street.

Taylor had no choice. She didn’t have a second to spare as Julie’s words echoed in her ears.

When she takes off, she’s too excited to know where the heck she is.

Taylor couldn’t lose Muffy or, heaven forbid, have something happen to her. She lifted the hem of her dress, and flew down the steps, racing as fast as her legs and French taffeta would let her. Luckily, the dog was in sight, but she didn’t know for how long, Muffy was lengthening her lead.

“Stop, Muffy! Stop!”

The dog raced in the opposite direction of town, to where the street became a country road. Taylor’s heart pounded, her breath came in short, quick spurts. She was losing ground. The dog was getting away. She picked up her pace, fighting dirt clods and hopping over potholes in the road.

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