“No supposing here. You have to be certain. I have plenty of dresses for a flat chest, but if you’re going to stuff your bra with those jelly tits then you need to tell me now.”

“No, no. No . . . jelly,” Beth said.

I got the feeling she was a little bit scared of Barbara. I thought Barbara was incredible and I wanted her to be my grandmother. I sat on the little tufted couch at the side of the room to watch it all unfold, the plate of truffles in my lap.

“How do you want to feel on the big day?” Barbara hooked a tape measure around Beth’s hips.

“Happy?”

“Well, I would hope so, but that’s not what I mean. Are you wanting to feel like a fluffy pretty princess or a sensual seductive woman? Or are you thinking more of the refined older bride look? Virgin, whore, or crone? Those are your only options, dear.” Barbara looked shrewdly at me. “And never a truer word spoken,” she added with her lips pursed.

“Preach, Barbara.” I held my hands up to her inviolable wisdom. I briefly considered getting my phone out to record this and send it to Ruby, but I had a sneaking suspicion Barbara would happily snatch it from my hands and flush it down the loo or something.

“Um, sexy, I guess?” Beth half glanced at me, embarrassed. I tried to block off the part of my brain that connected Beth looking sexy to anything to do with my dad and popped another truffle in my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue.

“Good choice. I don’t like to judge, you know, but at your age, the princess look is a little bit sad. And you’re not old enough for the wedding skirt suit quite yet.”

There were some very strict age and gender roles in the world of getting clothes to wear to your own wedding.

“You hold tight there, have another glass of champagne, and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes with some options.”

Beth sat beside me and gulped down some champagne.

“This is kind of intense,” she whispered.

“I think if you make the wrong choice Barbara will put you in the stocks and pelt you with truffles,” I whispered back.

“Why are we whispering?” Beth asked, still whispering.

“Because she’ll tell us off for talking in class.”

Barbara returned with a single dress in a plastic cover.

“With your skin tone, dear, you could wear whatever color you like, but I thought a brilliant white would be pretty.” She unzipped the plastic and held a bit of the fabric up to Beth’s face. Sure enough, it popped, making her glow. Barbara nodded, satisfied.

Beth took the dress uncertainly and shuffled into the changing booth, giving me a bewildered look behind Barbara’s back.