“That’s so sweet,” Paula said. “But what you should be doing is looking up a pattern for your own dress. Like I told you before, you’re going to be the first one of us to get to the altar.”

Jody started out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Just make sure you get a marriage license. You’ve seen what can happen if you don’t.”

“I’m not sure I even want a perfect dress,” Mitzi said. “I’d just as soon get married in shorts and bare feet on a beach somewhere.”

They paraded down the stairs and were headed toward the sewing room when a hard rap turned them all around toward the front door. Since she was the last in line, Mitzi opened it, and Ellie Mae fell into her arms. Makeup ran down her face in black streaks as the tears flowed. Sobs wracked her body and soaked Mitzi’s T-shirt.

Jody hurried over to pat her on the back. “Did someone die?”

Paula guided both her and Mitzi toward a pink sofa, grabbed a fistful of tissues, and put them in Ellie Mae’s hand. “Stop cryin’ and tell us what’s happened.”

“Darrin doesn’t want . . .” Ellie Mae blew her nose on a tissue and tossed it in the small trash can. “He doesn’t want . . .” The sobs started again, and then in a high-pitched squeal, she said, “Want to marry me anymore. I’m pregnant. My family’s goin’ to disown me, and that beautiful dress you’re makin’ . . . oh, my God, what am I going to do?” She bent over and gagged.

Paula quickly ran for the small bathroom trash can and put it in front of her. “Did your mama find out that you’re pregnant?”

“No,” Ellie Mae wailed.

“Do you need a glass of water?” Jody asked.

“I’d throw up anything I try to put in my stomach right now. I didn’t know where to go. I couldn’t go home. Mama doesn’t know about the baby, and it’s a boy.” She dragged out the last word in another high-pitched wail. “I don’t know anything about boy babies, and I’m going to be a single mother, and a boy needs a father,” she sobbed.

“We’re not living in the Stone Age, darlin’.” Paula patted her on the shoulder. “It’s not a sin to be a single mother.”

“Your daddy isn’t a preacher. I’ve never even been around little boys.” Ellie Mae’s voice went so high that it lost the last syllable.

The music from Blake Shelton’s “Honey Bee” startled Mitzi for a couple of seconds when it filled the foyer. Then she realized the sound was a ringtone coming from Ellie Mae’s purse, which she’d thrown on the floor just before collapsing in Mitzi’s arms.