Murder With Peacocks(38)

"Oh, how interesting," Mother said.

"If by some miracle they appeal to you, Eileen, we can probably give you a really good deal. At cost, even; they've been hanging around taking up space for nearly eighteen months now."

And tying up cash, no doubt; I felt sure that if Samantha's family had paid for them, they'd have the gowns in their possession. I wondered how they managed to weasel out of paying. I would have to consult the grapevine on that one. If it were my wedding I would never stoop to taking Samantha's castoffs, but I suppressed the thought. At this point, I'd like anything Eileen could be persuaded to choose. Mrs. Tranh and one of the other ladies appeared lugging garment bags taller than they were, and Samantha's rejects were pulled out and lovingly displayed.

"Oooohhhh," Eileen said as the bridal gown emerged from the bag. I hurried over to see what we were in for.

Maybe it was seeing the actual garments instead of a lot of pictures. Maybe she'd had a brief attack of frugality and focused on the words "at cost." Probably it was because Eileen has always longed to live in another century--any other century--and these gowns were in a rather ethereal pseudomedieval style. The more Eileen looked at the bride's dress, the more infatuated with it she became, and she was just as enchanted with the bridesmaids' dresses. Mother and Mrs. Fenniman were also oohing and ahhing. The owner of the River Cafe, arriving with our lunch, was equally enthusiastic. Mrs. Tranh and the other lady were beaming and pointing out wonderful little details of the construction and decoration and I was the only one paying any attention to the practical side of things.

"Eileen," I said. "They're made of velvet. Your wedding is in July. Outside!" I was ignored.

"I'm so sorry," Michael said.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I said, "but even at cost, those things aren't going to be cheap. All that velvet and lace, and the pearls and beads stitched on by hand." He winced and shook his head. "And they look as if they were made either for Samantha's current flock of bridesmaids or one similarly sized. I don't suppose you've noticed this, but Samantha's friends are all borderline anorexics and Eileen's friends tend more to be earth mother types, so they'll need alterations. Major alterations. You may even have to make some of them from scratch." He nodded.

"If I'd had any idea--" he began.

"Skip it," I said. "It's done." "Look on the bright side. She's made a decision."

"In front of plenty of witnesses," I added.

"And Mrs. Tranh and the other ladies will be so happy."

"True."

"And Mom won't have to take the Brewsters to small claims court as she's been threatening."

"Or hold Samantha's new gowns for ransom a couple of days before her wedding, which I hate to admit is what I'd be tempted to do if the Brewsters still owed me for the last set."

"See? Everybody's happy," Michael said.

"Ah, well," I said, softening. "They are beautiful." Michael went over to the happy crew and extracted a dress. The bride's gown was white velvet trimmed with white and gold brocade and ribbon, the bridesmaids' gowns dark blue velvet with blue and yellow, and this one, the maid of honor's dress, in deep burgundy and rose. He spun me around to face one of the mirrors and held it in front of me.

"Look how good that is with your coloring," he said, coaxing. "You're going to look smashing!"

"Assuming I can ever get into it." "Oh, I've seen Mrs. Tranh and the ladies pull off bigger miracles. It's not that far off, really. Take a look." He slipped the dress off the hanger and had me hold it at the neckline while he fitted it snugly to my waist with his hands. "Not bad at all," he murmured, looking over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror, and then down at me for my reaction. I found myself slightly breathless, even though I knew that the flirtatiousness in his voice was meaningless and that the warmth in those incredible blue eyes was probably due to his relief at getting a decision out of Eileen and unloading the unsold dresses.

"Yeah," I said, reluctantly pulling away and handing him back the dress. "We'll all die of heatstroke, but we'll make beautiful corpses. Why don't we leave them alone to coo while we discuss our no doubt very different definitions of the phrase "really good deal"?"

It wasn't such a bad deal after all. Either Michael was a lousy bargainer, or he was very eager to unload the unsold dresses. Or eager not to have Eileen underfoot dithering for another whole day. Although the total was going to be significantly more than we'd originally planned, Eileen was so deliriously happy that I didn't worry about it. I'd figure out somewhere else to skimp. We'd gotten her to choose a dress, the last major outstanding decision. I figured the worst was over.