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she'd gone from potential sex in the storage room, to bawling in the bathroom, to dressing-room duty at a charity wedding gown sale. This world of white dresses and bubbling brides was absolutely the last place Holly wanted to be.
    Thinking about marriage made her teeth hurt.
    "That's what I get for falling for a chocolate bribe," she grumbled through set teeth.
    The sense of self-preservation that had kept her hanging back from the hustle and bustle of the ballroom fell in the wake of Grace's tentative request for help clearing the dressing room of stacks of discarded gowns. Knowing better but prodded by her conscience, she grabbed a handful of hangers and dived in.
    Working with the wedding gowns proved just as bad as she had feared. Being adrift in this sea of satin and lace took an emotional toll on her psyche. In a perfect world, Holly would be shopping for her own wedding gown right now. But this was far from a perfect world. Holly had learned that hard lesson young. Today had simply reinforced the fact. Four hours after leaving the ladies' room, Holly was still immersed in wedding dresses and a pity party.
    From overheard remarks, she had gathered that the Pink Sisterhood Foundation transported the gowns from sale to sale, city to city, by way of a truck and gooseneck trailer donated by an oncologist from Arizona. In order to make the loading and unloading go as smoothly as possible, a rushed woman in a pink tee had said, it helped to have all the gowns hanging in the same direction on the racks.
    Holly worked her way through the dresses turning hangers, hooking trains up off the floor, and wistfully mooning over the beauty of some of the gowns. All the while, she tried desperately, and in vain, to put Justin out of her mind.
    He wanted to marry her. Have a family with her.
    He'd brought her here today to buy a wedding gown in tribute to her mother.
    Did a finer man exist on this earth? Holly blinked rapidly, willing away another bout of stupid tears. Fighting herself.
    "Oh, spit," Maggie said as she stopped beside Holly and tugged a froth of satin and lace from the rack. "Look at this. It's a size twenty and it was hidden in with the sixes. I'll bet that nasty-spirited girl from Piano stuck it here so no one else would see it. Oh, I'd like to wring her neck."
    Holly remembered the bride-to-be to whom Maggie referred. She'd been a loud, obnoxious, demanding woman with an equally loud, obnoxious, and demanding mother.
    "This gown would have been perfect for that sweet Sarah Jones I tried to help about an hour ago," Maggie continued. "Look, Holly. Isn't it beautiful? A classic style. The bride who wears this dress will be drop dead gorgeous."
    Holly eyed Maggie's trim body and liked her all the more for thinking a size twenty woman could be "drop-dead gorgeous." She smiled. "It's a lovely dress."
    Maggie hung the gown on the end of the rack, folded her arms and studied it, then nodded decisively. "I don't care if I have to buy it myself, that Plano girl isn't getting this dress. Sarah Jones mentioned her wedding was going to be at First Methodist. I wonder if I could get her address from the church. It's worth a try, don't you think?"
    Holly didn't respond. She couldn't. The candlelight silk gown she'd just lifted from the floor to replace on its empty hanger was a close duplicate of the one her mother wore in the photo her father kept on his night-stand.
    Oh, wow. If she didn't do something quick the tears were going to start all over again.
    "Now that's a pretty one," Maggie said, stroking a hand across the fabric. "Old-fashioned. Reminds me of a lace-trimmed valentine."
    A sudden fierce need to share replaced Holly's desire to cry. "My mom wore a wedding gown similar to this."
    "Did she?" Maggie gave the dress a closer look. "Do you still have it?"
    "No. I don't think so, anyway. I haven't seen it. Daddy didn't keep many of her things."
    "Oh, sugar." Maggie reached over and gave her a hug.
    The emotion clogging her