They’d gotten home at a decent hour after the bridal fair, but all three of them were so wound up about all the appointments that had been made, there was no way they could sleep. They were still in the living room talking about how many dresses they could make in a month without losing quality when Mitzi realized it was three o’clock in the morning.

She yawned and stretched. “Girls, if we don’t get to bed, we’re going to fall asleep in church.”

“I vote we miss tomorrow,” Paula suggested.

Jody raised a hand. “I second that vote.”

“No argument from me,” Mitzi agreed as she headed off to her bedroom. She crawled beneath the sheets and shut her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Were Tabby and Dixie having trouble settling down, too? Were they still talking about the bridal fair and planning their next wedding bouquets? They’d spent a lot of time going through the photo albums at the floral vendors.

It was well past five o’clock when Mitzi finally fell into a deep sleep, and she didn’t wake until almost noon. She crawled out of bed, made a stop in the bathroom, and then growled at her reflection in the hallway mirror. “I look like I’ve been run over by a Weed Eater and then thrown under a semi.”

Jody pushed open the door to her bedroom. “You don’t look that bad. Besides, you’ve got a couple of hours to get ready for your date. That’s enough to nap and still transform you into Cinderella.”

“Let’s go get a cup of coffee. That’ll make us feel better.” Jody tugged at her arm.

Paula was already sitting at the table with a cup of hot tea in front of her. “Good morning. I hope that y’all feel better than I do this morning. I’m glad we don’t do a bridal fair every weekend.”

“It’s kind of like the day after Christmas, isn’t it?” Mitzi said as she got a Diet Coke from the refrigerator. “I don’t want to go to the lake. Heat, bugs, and hot sun is not my idea of a great Sunday afternoon. I’d rather stay in my pajamas all afternoon and do nothing but lay up on the sofa and watch old movies. How about we call it all off and—”

“Are you sick? You all look like hookers after a tough Saturday night!” Fanny Lou burst in the back door before Mitzi could finish the sentence. She’d already changed from her Sunday dress into a pair of baggy jeans that had been rolled up to the knees, sandals, and one of the promotional T-shirts advertising The Perfect Dress across the back.

“Granny!” Mitzi gasped.