“A pre-marriage counselor, someone from the synod. It’s recommended when a minister gets married. Anyway…I don’t have any family and…will you be our maid of honor for the wedding?”

Hannah took a moment to think that over. The old saying, Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride, didn’t apply in her case since she’d walked down the aisle as a bridesmaid five times in the past. “I’d love to, Claire. Thanks for asking me. But you’d better order a larger size dress.”

“There’s a problem?” Claire glanced in as Hannah opened the door, and not even the soft pink bulb in the overhead lamp could hide her dismay. “Oh, dear!!”

“What’s wrong?” Andrea asked, coming up behind Claire. Hannah glanced at her sister. Of course Andrea’s dress fit perfectly. She hadn’t gained an ounce since high school.

“Hannah’s dress is too tight,” Claire murmured, stating the obvious.

“And how!” Andrea shook her head. “Is there anything you can do?”

Claire gave a little shrug. “I can let it out, but not that much. They clipped the seams.”

Even though she wasn’t a seamstress, Hannah knew that meant she was in trouble. “Can you order a larger size?”

“There’s no time. It takes at least two months for a special order, and your mother’s party is only two weeks away.” Claire thought for a moment and then she turned to Hannah with a hopeful look. “You said you were serving the refreshments. What kind of apron will you be wearing?”

“See-through lace. Mother ordered them from a catalogue.”

“Then we’ve had it. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Hannah asked, hoping that Claire had come up with a miracle.

“Unless I put in inserts.”

“Can you do that?” Hannah asked her.

Claire picked up the hem of Hannah’s dress and looked at it. “There’s not much material, and it’s a large print. I’m not sure I can match it.”

“What does that mean?” Andrea asked, every bit as clueless as Hannah was.

“It means that I’m a good tailor, but it’s still going to look like we had to enlarge it because it was too small.”

“Okay,” Andrea said, turning to Hannah. “Hurry up and change back into your regular clothes. I’ve got a plan.”

Hannah wasted no time in peeling herself out of the dress and handing it out the door to Claire. In less time than it would take her to beat a meringue by hand, not that she ever would, she emerged from the pretty little dressing room, zipping up her parka.

“I’ll call you later, Claire,” Andrea said, hustling Hannah out the door.

“What plan?” Hannah asked, turning up her collar as she headed across the parking lot for the back door of her bakery and coffee shop, The Cookie Jar.