Brianne was freaking out. She was hot and tired, and the rows and rows of wedding gowns were too much for her. Nothing fit right, and it was too late to order a dress that would really look great. Other brides in the shop were laughing and having fun with their mothers and sisters and friends as they gaily tried on one gown after another, knowing they had time to get whatever dress they wanted. Their happiness made Brianne even more miserable.

Teresa pulled Brianne aside. “Your dead grandmother would light up in the sky if you wore our dress. Let’s get out of here and go dig it out of the attic.”

“What if it’s in bad condition?”

“I wrapped it good. Honestly. I should have had you try it on before you went to those crazy designers.”

“Ma, Debbie had her dress made by Alfred and Charisse. It looked beautiful.”

“Didn’t she split up with him within six months?”

“So?”

“They’re bad luck. I’m telling you. Bad luck.”

“If I wear your dress and it needs to be altered, then we’ll have to take it to them. Who else would do it so fast?”

“It’s all right. We’ll ignore the bad luck then. But it’s good you’re going to wear a family dress. Believe me, you can’t go wrong. If people don’t think it looks gorgeous, you can blame me.”

They thanked the saleswomen for their efforts, drove out to Long Island, pulled into the garage, and entered the house through the back door. Brianne’s father had just returned from playing a game in his over-50 softball league. He’d already heard the news about the dress but seemed to have gotten over it.

“Aahhh,” he groaned. “I pulled a muscle in my leg sliding into home plate.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “You’re fifty-five years old. You’ve got no business sliding around anywhere.”

“You better be in good shape to walk me down the aisle next week,” Brianne told him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said as he reached in the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade. “No more games until after the wedding. I thought I could play next Saturday morning and still make it to the church on time, but your mother forbade me.”

“In no uncertain terms.”

He took a chug from the bottle. “Did you get your money back?”

Brianne pulled the check out of her pocket and slapped it in his palm.

“Daddy’s little girl.”

Brianne gave her father a hug. “I was interviewed on television.”

“Let’s get a tape and play it at the rehearsal dinner. It’ll all work out. You know, honey, the important thing is that you’re marrying a good guy. When I think of that creep you went out with last year.”

“I know. I know.”

“What was his name?”

“Bill.”

“That’s right. Bill the Pill.”

“Good riddance to him,” Teresa said. “You see, Brianne, you could still be stuck with someone like that-someone always whining, complaining, and in a bad mood. Instead, you found a nice boy like Pauly. So he’s a little rough around the edges. He’ll learn.”

“He still hasn’t called me back. I left him a message hours ago.”

“He thought you were going to be busy all day. Maybe he went to see a movie to calm his nerves. All I can say is thank God he finally got a new job. You both work until you have a baby. Then see what’s up. Whatever.”

“He was only out of work for a few months.”

“It still can make a man go bonkers. Especially when he’s engaged to be married. Let’s go upstairs and check out the dress.”

On the second floor of their modest-sized house, Brianne tugged at a rope that hung from the ceiling in the hallway. A trap door swung down, and a set of folded-up wooden stairs followed, losing its fight with gravity. Brianne promptly unfolded them, made sure the bottom section was planted firmly on the hallway floor, and started her ascent.

“Be careful,” Teresa ordered.

“I am, I am.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Brianne reached the top of the flimsy stairs and stepped into the attic, carefully avoiding the insulated sections that were not meant to support anyone who weighed more than three pounds. Step on them and you end up in the extra bedroom. Brianne pulled on a smaller string that was hanging from a lonely lightbulb protruding from the ceiling. The lightbulb made a popping noise as it flashed light for a brief second then died.

“Daaadyyy!” she screamed. “We need another lightbulb.”

“Howie!” Teresa screamed, relaying her daughter’s message. “We need another lightbulb.”

A short time later, guided by another dim bulb, they rummaged through the attic looking for the cherished family dress.

“I don’t believe this,” Brianne complained after about two minutes. “I thought you said you put it away so carefully.”

“I did. But this family has collected a lot of junk over the years. We’ve got to clean this place out. Oh look, here are some of your school pictures…”

“Ma! We can’t take time for that now. Where’s the dress? I swear if I get my hands on whoever it was who ruined my gown I will kill them. Kill them!”

“Calm down dear. Now let me see. Oh look! It’s behind this pole.” Teresa pulled aside a carton of junk and reached for the faded white box with a window top that partially revealed the front of the beaded white wedding dress. “Here it is! All packaged nicely from that dry cleaner that went out of business. They did such a good job with wedding dresses. It’s such a shame the owner was so nasty and customers stopped going. Who needs to be insulted when you’re paying good money?”

Brianne hurried over to take a look at the dress she had never laid eyes on, except in pictures. It was obviously packaged on some sort of form that simulated a woman’s chest. At first glance, Brianne became hopeful that it might work. It looked pretty enough.

Teresa could tell that Brianne’s reaction was positive. “Let’s take it downstairs, honey, and have you try it on. I promise you it’ll be wonderful.”

Like a child on Christmas morning, Brianne grabbed the box and hurried down the attic stairs, barely grabbing onto the skimpy railing. Teresa was just a little more careful in her descent down the rickety steps. They hurried into the master bedroom and placed the box on Teresa and Howie’s king-sized bed. Brianne held her breath, pulled off the cover of the box, and started to scream bloody murder.

An army of black ants had sprung to life and were frantically running around the top of the dress.

For the second time that day, Brianne fell to her knees in shock and grief over the state of a beleagured wedding gown.

“Howie!” Teresa bellowed. “Get up here! We’ve got to get this dress out into the back yard! And grab a can of Raid!”

“I start to feel good when I get near the ocean,” Marco declared. “There’s something about the salt water. Remember summer after senior year of high school? We made the rounds looking for chicks on every beach from Long Island to South Jersey.”

Francis looked glum as they continued down the Garden State Parkway. “We had to keep moving. You promised so many girls you’d call them, we could never go back to the same place twice.”

Marco waved his hand at his passenger. “We had fun.” He rolled down the window partway and flipped on the radio. “I’m glad the weather is clearing up. I feel like singing.”

“We’d better have that tail light fixed,” Francis reminded Marco as he checked his cell phone. He was hoping that maybe Joyce would call to say hello. No reason she should. Particularly since he blew her off on another Saturday night.

“Don’t worry,” Marco said as a deejay’s voice came over the tinny speaker.

“You’re back with Kenny and Jess. We’ve got a lot of news here to tell you about, but one of the stranger items of the day is about the wedding gowns that were stolen from a designers’ loft in downtown Manhattan -”

“Oh, my God,” Francis muttered.