“Okay, now be very still while I mark the back seam, and then I’ll pin it so you can feel the fit and see if we need to tighten or loosen anything.” Mitzi laid the pincushion on a small table in front of the mirrors.

“Did Paula tell you my news?” Ellie Mae asked.

“About what?” Mitzi asked.

“I’m pregnant, but only Darrin and I know—and, well, Paula because we ran into each other at the ultrasound place. We’ll spring the news on my family after they get over the shock of this gorgeous dress,” Ellie Mae said.

“Congratulations.” Mitzi’s thoughts were on what her grandmother had said about Ellie Mae being the typical preacher’s daughter.

“Thank you. We’re really excited. We’d wanted to start a family right away, but imagine my surprise when I went to see my doctor and found out I was already five months pregnant,” Ellie Mae gushed. “That’s when we moved up the wedding date by three months. Didn’t want to go into labor walking down the aisle.”

“I guess not.” Mitzi finished pinning the bodice. “How does that feel?”

“Make it just a little tighter. I’ll be wearing Spanx,” Ellie Mae said. “Wait. Don’t. I might gain a few more pounds. Can you just leave a big seam allowance in case we need to adjust right at the end?”

“Of course. So do you know what you’re having?” Mitzi asked.

“A boy and we’re so happy about it. What about Paula?”

Mitzi unpinned the dress and stuck the pins back into the cushion. “She hasn’t told us yet. I’ve also got something I want you to look at after you get dressed.”

“Did you finish the hat?” Ellie Mae’s voice quivered with excitement as she slipped her shirt down over her head. “I’m going to love it as much as I do the dress.”

Mitzi carefully put the bodice on a satin hanger and hung it on a rack. Then she disappeared into the fabric room and brought back the bouquet the girls had made. Ellie Mae reached out to touch it.

“I’m so damned emotional, but this is beyond beautiful. It’s exactly what I told you I wanted. I don’t care how much it costs. Who made it? And will they do the rest of my flowers?” She held it close to her body, as if she were walking down the aisle with it.

“The Harrison girls,” Mitzi answered. “And yes, they’d love to make the rest of your flowers. Just make a list and email it to me. They could get started on your sister’s bouquet this afternoon. Got a rough idea of what you want?”