For two nights, I tossed and turned and baked and stressed. It got to the point that my sisters demanded I stop making cookies for the sake of all our thighs.

Then the epic day finally arrived, the day I had to go shopping with the woman who hated me, for my wedding dress. I sighed and reminded myself that this was for Ashton. “You sure you don’t need me to stay?”

Zoey moved the cupcakes from the overflow pan into the front case. “Stop trying to get out of this. You’ve already baked everything. If we somehow run out, I’ll close early. Don’t worry. I only have to cover for a few hours. Gee, you’d think this was your shop.”

I paused and eyed the pale green walls that needed paint, the setup of the cases I longed to change, but I could see it. The way the bakery would look if I owned it. “I guess I just love to bake.”

“Then why are you going back to school? If anything, you should be going to culinary school so you can open your own bakery.” Zoey set the long, silver tin sheet on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re always so busy with making Avery and my dreams come true. Why don’t you make your own dreams come true for once?”

I scanned the small bakery one more time. My heart belonged here in Magnolia Corners, where the town was extended family who’d helped us through dark times, but it also belonged to Ashton. I knew he wouldn’t be able to live all the way down here in the middle of nowhere, not with his fancy degree and corporate aspirations. “I am making my dreams come true. I’m marrying Ashton.”

Zoey shook her head. “You know what I mean. Try talking to Ashton and telling him how you really feel. You’ve been doing for everyone else for so long. Now it’s your turn.”

I removed my apron and eyed my pale skin in the small antique mirror near the front door. My cheeks were pink from the heat of the ovens. “I’ve never regretted staying here with you and Avery. Not once. I love you both, and I can’t imagine living away from you two. We are closer than any other sisters I know.”

Zoey fanned her face with her hand. “Don’t make me cry. I promised not to shed even a tear in front of you, afraid you might abandon everything just to not leave us.”

The old-fashioned timer stuck to the side of the oven clicked away the seconds until the last batch of triple-chocolate swirl brownies would be ready. I set my apron down on the counter and pulled her into a hug. “I wish I didn’t have to live so far away, but you left for college, and I’m hoping Avery is about to make that jump, too. But you’ll still be able to come to my new home with Ashton. He promised to have enough room for you two. There’s nothing here in Magnolia Corners for you or Avery anymore. If I stayed behind, I’d only be staying alone. This way, I get to be with Ashton.”

“I know. I’m just being stupid. You know I want you to be happy. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.” Zoey hugged me tight then shoved me away. “Now, go. And be nice.”

I clicked my heels together and saluted in my best Avery and Zoey impression. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a little sister-infused enthusiasm, I drove to Eagles Landing. I focused on each turn, traffic light, and zooming car that passed me on I-75, but no matter how hard I tried to remain calm, my hands shook. I gripped the steering wheel tight when I pulled into Ashton’s parents’ driveway. It led up a hill to a half circle under the portico. I’d always refused to take my car to his house in fear it would die trying to chug up the hill, but today I didn’t have a choice. Hopefully, Ashton was right and his mother would love the real me. Of course, I knew my chances were greater if I had a richer, less socially awkward me stuffed into the closet that I could dust off and give her.

My phone buzzed and I glanced down to see Ashton’s name. I pulled to a stop a few feet past the front door and opened the text message.

I threatened to never speak to Mother again if she isn’t nice. Remember how much I love you. Don’t let my family run you off.

They won’t. But sprinting is still an option. I thumbed a quick reply. And I love you, too.

With my purse strap flung over my shoulder and my car keys in hand, I rang the front bell. Their chime reminded me so much of the Addam’s family’s mansion that I expected Lurch, the Frankenstein-like butler, to get the door.

My phone buzzed again, and I glanced down at another text message from Ashton.

I sent reinforcements.

My mind traveled through all the memories of my family and his, but came back empty. Reinforcements?

The front door opened to Cathy standing with a beaming smile, in an actual dress with sandals and painted toenails. I nearly fainted. The once frumpy, cranky lady now looked like a fashionista. My feelings of inferiority doubled, but before I could say anything, she swooped in, curling an arm around me, and guided me through the entry way as if it were her own home.

“I found the bride outside.” Cathy sat me down on a plush sofa in the middle of a grand room. The golds, greens, and burgundies decorating the space somehow felt more oppressive than usual.

Mrs. Dumont entered, sat at an angle to me, and took one of three glasses of champagne from the mahogany coffee table.

“Won’t this be fun?” Cathy handed me a glass and plopped down at my side. The woman was a walking contradiction of new worldly ways and old-fashioned country charms. “Can you believe Mrs. Dumont did all this for you?”

“Did what?”

Mrs. Dumont straightened her already perfect blouse and then wagged a finger at someone standing at a hallway.

“She decided instead of running all over town that she’d bring the dresses to us. We get to sip champagne and watch models, shaped like you, then you can have a fitting for any that caught your eye.”

I glanced at the pure white dresses that paraded past me on girls with impossibly long legs and tiny waists. Girls that most definitely did not look like me. Was this another inferiority thing she Mrs. Dumont tried to exploit? I flicked a glance at Cathy, but she sat with her hands folded in her lap in the most lovely manner.

Mrs. Dumont eyed each model, then me. “No, I don’t think that’s right for her.”

Cathy straightened and took a sip of her champagne. Another girl walked by as equally beautiful, but Mrs. Dumont dismissed her, too.

By the third time, Cathy set her champagne down and smiled. “What do you think, Sadie. After all, you’ll be the one wearing it. You decide.”

I couldn’t tell them that I didn’t want a big fancy dress I couldn’t afford, or that I didn’t even know if I wanted to wear a white one. “Um, they’re nice.”

“Nice?” Mrs. Dumont’s mouth dropped open with less dignity than I’d seen from her in the four years I’d been dating her son. Of course, in those four years, we’d only been in a room together around five times. Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter they had flown off to some exotic place, so we’d never had family holidays together. Thank the good Lord.

“I mean, they are beautiful, of course,” I said, my words tumbling over each other. My hands fidgeted with my purse strap and Cathy shot me a sideways glance.

Mrs. Dumont took a long breath then a sip of champagne while the girl in the white dress with puffed sleeves stood there. The sleeves were so large not even turning sideways would allow her to fit through a doorway. “Yes, yes, but not for you. Do you have anything more…simple?”

I caught her meaning, and based on Cathy’s crooked brows I knew she’d caught it, too. “Classic,” Cathy corrected. “Sadie has always been the classy girl. She possesses grace and beauty and humility. And with her bone structure she’ll look fabulous in something more classic.”

“Unless you don’t have that ready. Then we could look at modern. Like a Mermaid’s Tail dress.” I kept my face a study in careful consideration. I shouldn’t poke the dragon, but she was right there judging me, so why not.

Mrs. Dumont looked scandalized at the very suggestion. “I’m sure we have something—”

“Mermaid’s tail?” Cathy laughed long and loud. “I couldn’t imagine, no, wait, yes I could.”

For once, I didn’t mind Cathy’s interruption. My voice was caught between wanting to make this work with Ashton’s mother, and wanting to tell her that I was tired of her snobbery.

The first dress with potential caught my eye. Simple, sophisticated, with lace on the short sleeves giving it a little country flair. “This one. Yes, I think even a simple country cow like me can pull this off.” I chuckled, feeling like a stand-up comedian being heckled. I cleared my throat and circled the gown, with my best art critic stare. “Yes, I believe I could try this one.”

“Oh darling, this dress is elegant, graceful. It’s not…right for you.” Mrs. Dumont sipped her champagne with a hint of a winning grin on her lips.

A tag peeked out the back of the dress and I couldn’t help myself. I tugged it free, startling the model. She fell forward. A rip echoed through the two-story room like a megaphone at a football game. The model tumbled into the couch, pushing Mrs. Dumont forward in a less than sophisticated movement.

I stood there with tag in hand, feeling like a busted shoplifter. Despite the great seam divide and the derogatory remarks of Mrs. Dumont, I looked down at the excessive amount of zeroes before the decimal point. I inhaled a quick breath, which sent me into a budget-gone-insane coughing fit. Once I finally managed a few sips of water that Cathy poured and handed me from the coffee table, I cleared my throat and said, “Perhaps you’re right, I’m more wild boar in a tea shop than graceful ballerina.”

Mrs. Dumont waved her hand at me. “If it is the price that caused you to have a…fit, don’t be ridiculous. We’ll pay for it. I know you don’t have a mother to foot the bill for the wedding. And I can’t have you marrying my son in a burlap sack, now can I?” The air of superiority was so thick I thought I’d choke and end up in another coughing fit.

“If the sack fits.” I whispered past clenched teeth. “No. I want to buy my own dress.”

“Don’t be absurd. The reception will be at the club, of course. And the wedding will be at Eagles Landing Catholic Church.” She rolled on as if I hadn’t said anything, wasn’t even there, and didn’t matter.

“But I’m not Catholic.” The words slipped from my lips before I could stop them, and the woman’s cold, calculated eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m taking care of everything. I’m sure some day soon you’ll catch on, but I’m here to help make your wedding one to remember. It’s not just about you, after all. It’s the Dumont name we must uphold. We have clients from my husband’s firm, and Ashton’s college Lacrosse team, and important, affluent families who will be attending.

“What if we chose a different church? One in Magnolia Corners?”

She set her champagne flute down and crossed her legs at her ankles. “You’ll be married at our church. The Catholic church. You’ll understand when you see it. It is built in baroque style. A perfect wedding location.”

I’d love to baroque something myself, but instead I said, “I understand, but I’ve already picked out a church.”

Mrs. Dumont guffawed.

“This is Sadie’s wedding.” I turned and intentionally hit Cathy’s glass so that it tipped, spilling the contents into her lap. I had to handle this my way. Besides, I’d learned a long time ago not to rely on my elders for help. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Aunt Cathy. Please, go to the restroom and dab your dress with cold water.”

Mrs. Dumont shook her head. “The guest bathroom is around the corner. Darcy, show her where it is, please.” A woman dressed in a uniform appeared from some secret trap door. Cathy eyed me suspiciously but chose to follow the woman. “I’m sure I can find it. No need to escort me.”

The room fell silent except Mrs. Dumont’s perfect nail tapping against the side of her glass. For several seconds, I waited. Then she waved her hand, dismissing the poor model into her corner. “Well, I can see that I have my work cut out for me. I’ll choose your dress, colors, flowers, menu. I mean, you probably wouldn’t even know what half the items are anyway.” The woman paced and then stopped short of the fireplace. “Colors should be bold, but not gaudy.

Please don’t say peach. Please don’t say peach. Magnolias. Think beautiful magnolias.

“We could follow the cool tones of an Atlanta peach theme.”

I bit my tongue to keep from speaking and repeated over and over in my head, think of Ashton. “I’m afraid my skin tone will also disappoint you. I might be a Georgia Peach, but I can’t wear it. Even the color near me might scare away the bravest of souls.”

“Staging is everything. I know you don’t understand how these things work. It’s good that I’m here. You want to make Ashton happy, right?”

Ashton didn’t care about the dramatics of the Dumont family, that much I knew, but he did care that we all got along. I swallowed my real words I wanted to say and settled with. “I guess this simpleton needs to yield to the socialite master. Whatever you think is best.”

“Whatever she thinks? You hate—”

I turned on my aunt. “Aunt Cathy, I’m thankful for all Mrs. Dumont is doing for my wedding. After all, my mother isn’t around to do any of this.” I stood and set my glass of champagne on the table.

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll take care of everything.” Mrs. Dumont kissed both my cheeks, the most contact she’d ever had with me and shuffled away into the hallway the models had walked in and out of.

Spilled Champaign, ripped dress, and accosting Mrs. Dumont with a model aside, I’d done well. No fights and no temper tantrums, that had to be progress.

Aunt Cathy snagged my sleeve. “What are you doing?”

I grabbed her hand and both of our purses from the couch, realizing Mrs. Dumont would not be returning. Then I bolted out the front door with Cathy in tow. Once near my car and out of earshot, I let her go and rounded on her. “You do not get to scold me. I’m doing what’s best.”

“Even if it means rolling over and playing dead. Not just dead, but run over by a car, bus, and a tractor zombie kind of dead?”

“She’ll be family. She might be a little difficult to deal with, but at least she’s here.”

Aunt Cathy softened her expression and took her purse from my hands. “Listen, I know it’s been difficult for you and your sisters, but I’m here and I want to help. I know you hate the color peach. You’ve always wanted magnolias at your wedding. You’ve always wanted an outdoor ceremony.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“Since you were four you would practice getting married in my front garden, and it was always the same thing over the years, candy and music and fun. You didn’t want stuffy and snobby.”

“You need to stop trying to mom me.” It was cute, but I needed that years ago when mom left and Cathy wasn’t returning my calls.

“Someone has to because my sister was no better than a cuckoo bird raising you kids.”

“And you were no better than a rabbit. Hopping in and out of our lives when it was convenient with a card or letter or phone call.”

“You wouldn’t speak to me.” Cathy shot back.

“And you tried as hard as a deadbeat dad with a free airline ticket.”.”

“You put that back in your sass bag, Sadie Dixon. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I tried to call you after Mom ran out on us the last time. When I was seventeen and scared that without a guardian the state would split us up. We stayed in hiding for several months, scared to even go out to the store. It was the end of the year with parent parties and phone calls about grades, and I had to act like Mom was traveling for a big new job she landed. Instead of shacking up with a big new guy she’d landed.” I scanned the area to make sure none of the Dumont staff was lurking nearby. “Just go home, Cathy. I’ll handle this.”

I headed for my car, leaving her and the awful memories of neglect behind.

“I’m not your mother. You can’t run me off that easily.”

My legs froze. My heart froze. I froze. “It’s my fault that my mother ran off?”

“That’s what you think, isn’t it? That’s why you rolled over like a scolded dog wanting its master’s approval?”

A hot flash of hatred melted the heavy weight of the truth enough for it to seep into me. “Don’t be absurd.”

Cathy didn’t back down, or wave me away to avoid an argument. She closed the space between us and stared me down. “Then where is the Sassy Sadie we all know and love? Where did she go?”

I lifted my chin as high as an Eagles Landing resident. “She’s right here, napping. I have to make Mrs. Dumont happy. I also have to take care of my sisters. Have you ever thought maybe I’m scared for them? That I feel like I’m abandoning them now, too?”

Cathy scanned my face as if analyzing my inner thoughts, and for a second I thought I’d won, but then the corner of her mouth inched into a lopsided grin. “That’s only what’s got your feathers ruffled, but not what’s got your tail in a knot.”

“Ah, there’s the Cathy with her country colloquialism finally showing her true colors. Who’s the one pretending to be someone else to fit in here? You blame me, but you’re doing the same thing.”

“For you. I thought it’s what you wanted based on your attitude and the first words out of your mouth to me in years, belittling me in front of everyone. I know you’ve been hurt, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people that way. And I know you. You lash out when you’re scared of something. What are you so scared of, Sadie? Love? You didn’t think it would be easy, did you? Forever love is never easy.”

I turned to flee, to get in my car and not face Cathy’s expression or her words or the truth.

“Oh my goodness, I understand now,” Cathy said.

I kept walking, grabbed the handle of my car door, but it stuck.

Cathy’s heels clicked closer and I wrenched the door open, but not fast enough.

“You’re scared you’ll run Ashton off. That he’ll abandon you, too, if you aren’t exactly the kind of woman you think he wants.”

She might be right. Maybe. But Sassy Sadie was tired of napping now, and wasn’t about to give Cathy the satisfaction of being right.