A friendly tap-tap rapped at the door. “India, do you need any help?” Topaz asked.

I calmed down enough to say, “I think the dress is broken.”

“Let me in, honey, I’ll fix it.”

I cracked open the door, hiding behind it for cover, and allowed Topaz to slip in the room. I slammed it shut before anyone else could eel in.

“Shoot, girl, you almost took off my foot.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all right—” Topaz stopped when she saw me in the dress. I’m sure I was not what she’d envisioned when she’d created the gown. “Girl.”

That was about all I could get out of her for the next twenty minutes as she circled around me, pulling, pinning, and ripping seams.

Every few minutes, Olivia called, “Is everything okay in there? Is there anything I can do? Can I come in?”

Each time, in unison, Topaz and I yelled, “No.”

“Well, honey, the dress will fit, but I don’t know—there’s nothing I can do about the color,” Topaz finally said.

I shrugged in defeat.

“You’re definitely a winter, honey. Winters should never wear gold.”

She left me to change back into my capris and tank top. When Topaz and I walked downstairs, the whole party greeted us with a collective groan.

“Where’s the dress?” Olivia asked.

“There was something wrong with the zipper. Bree, would you like to try your dress on next?” she asked before Olivia or Mrs. Blocken could make further comment.

I mouthed thank you to her.

Ten short minutes later, Bree floated down the stairs in an exact replica, be it a smaller one, of the bridesmaid dress of my nightmares. On Bree the gown was stunning. Her tanned skin and the shimmering fabric fit together perfectly. Appreciative murmurs swept the room. Bobby’s expression was comically enraptured.