Jack and Tara both turned toward the door as a man’s voice could be heard yelling, “Where is she?”

Tara jumped up as Jamie rushed through the door. Jack smiled as the hulking man scooped his petite fiancée off the ground and held her in his arms.

“I’m getting you out of here, baby,” he announced in a booming voice as he swayed her from side to side. “I’m taking you away for a few days so we can both calm down.”

“Where are we going?” Tara asked, as the tears started to flow from her eyes. Feeling protected and safe in Jamie’s big strong arms, she felt a wonderful relief.

“ Las Vegas. We’ll have a good time and forget all this.”

Some place to calm down, Jack thought.

Of Charisse and Alfred’s five April Brides, Brianne and Regan were still the only two who definitely knew the bad news about the gowns. Alfred had left messages for Shauna Nickles and Victoria Beardsley, telling them that there was a “little problem.” They weren’t scheduled to come in for fittings until the following week. Tracy Timber was now a few minutes late for her appointment, which was surprising. Alfred, Charisse, Regan, Nora, and Kit were all waiting for her as though the Grim Reaper were about to appear.

“She’s never late,” Charisse explained. “She is ultraorganized and efficient.”

“Rigid,” Alfred offered.

Charisse sweetly ignored him. “I’m afraid the news is going to be a big blow for her.”

“She’s running her wedding like a marine sergeant,” Alfred said. He threw out his hands. “Where is the sense of joy? Show me the love.”

Nora and Kit had been sitting silently, taking all this in. Of course neither of them wanted to leave. It was the quietest Regan had seen Kit in a long time. “You know,” Nora began. “Planning a wedding is very stressful. There’s so much to think about.”

“The dress is the most important,” Alfred said proudly. “It’s the dress that defines the bride. If your dress is bad, then you may as well forget it! People will be talking behind your back for years to come!”

“That’s why we have such a problem, Alfred,” Regan reminded him. “If this Tracy is so ultraorganized and she’s getting married next week…”

The downstairs buzzer rang.

As opposed to a collective sigh of relief, there was a collective tensing of muscles in the salon.

Charisse walked over to the intercom but didn’t reach it before it buzzed again. This time the buzz was longer. Charisse waited until the noise ended and then pushed the button and spoke into the speaker. “Who’s there?” she asked with a lilt, winking at the group.

“Tracy Timber,” a clipped voice answered. “I do have an appointment.”

“Come right up.”

When Tracy appeared at the door with her mother and sister, Regan could tell that this was going to be a painful experience. Tracy was one of those people who had every one of her shoulder-length blond hairs perfectly in place, with a headband to ensure no strays dared escape. She was dressed in preppy clothing and simple gold jewelry. But the rock on her left hand was impressive. She was carrying a briefcase in her right hand, a clipboard in her left.

“The traffic coming in from Connecticut was terrible,” Tracy announced. “Once the rain started…”

She doesn’t know yet, Regan thought. They must not have listened to the radio on the way in.

“No problem…” Alfred said, fumbling for words. “Let…let me introduce you…”

Tracy ’s mother, Ellen, was an older, more relaxed version of Tracy. Her gold earrings were similar to Tracy ’s, and she had on well-cut beige slacks and a yellow sweater set. Tracy ’s younger sister, Adele, had the same features and hair color as her mother and sister but was clearly not cut from the same mold. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed. Wearing wrinkled blue jeans, a denim shirt, and old sneakers, she yawned at least twice before the introductions were complete.

Everyone said hello and shook hands. Tracy ’s eyes darted back and forth to the long rack where the gowns were usually hanging in wait when clients came for their final fittings.

“Lovely meeting you all,” Tracy said without enthusiasm, then glanced at her watch. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we, Alfred. I want to try on my dress one more time and then be on our way. Have you finished up with Regan? You are the bride, aren’t you, Regan?”

And the detective, Regan thought, but she just nodded. She felt her throat go dry. Poor Alfred.

“ Tracy, why don’t you and your mother and sister sit down?” Alfred said, clearly stalling for time.

“I don’t want to sit down. I want to try on my dress.”

“There’s a little problem…”

Tracy ’s cheeks flushed. “What is the problem, Alfred?”

“We had a break-in last night, and your dress was stolen. So was Regan’s,” he added almost joyfully.

Hugging the clipboard to her chest, Tracy looked as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Could you repeat that?”

Alfred did as he was told.

Regan could see a look of amusement come over Adele’s face, but Tracy ’s mother’s expression turned grave. Luckily she didn’t seem the type to get overwrought, at least in public. But Tracy ’s stiff upper lip had vanished.

“My dress is gone? Gone? What am I supposed to do? My perfect wedding is in one week.” She banged her clipboard. “Everything is set except the dress. Everything.”

Charisse ran into the kitchen mumbling about making another pot of lavender tea.

“Honey,” Tracy ’s mother said in a tone that matched her expression. “We’ll find you another dress.”

“No,” Alfred interrupted. “We’ll make you a new one. We promise. When you think about it, seven days is plenty of time. Isn’t that how long it took God to-”

“That is unacceptable!” Tracy interrupted, her voice quivering with rage. “I have every minute scheduled from now until the time I walk down the aisle. I don’t have a second to spare. Do you understand that? Do you?”

Alfred just looked at her.

Tracy unsnapped the cell phone attached to her belt. “I’m going to call my fiancé. He’ll tell you a thing or two. He’ll sue you.” She pressed one key and a moment later barked into the phone. “Jeffrey! The most awful thing has happened! I am so upset! My gown was stolen. I am beside myself!…That’s right, stolen… How can I have a wedding without a gown…? What do you mean we shouldn’t go ahead with the wedding? It is not a sign we shouldn’t get married, I’ll get another gown…”

Regan watched as the expression on Tracy ’s face turned from anger to horror.

“Not the right thing for you now? What are you talking about? I said I’ll get another gown…You’ve made up your mind…What do you mean it’s not me, it’s you? I can’t believe you’re doing this! I can’t believe it!” She snapped the phone shut and threw it onto the floor. “Look at what you’ve done, Alfred! My fiancé dumped me because I don’t have a dress!”

Something tells me there are extenuating circumstances, Regan thought.

Tracy ran into the bathroom, her mother in her wake. “ Tracy, maybe you caught him at a bad time. Give him a call back!”

Adele shook her head. “The worst part of this is that she was determined to get married before she turned thirty. She was just going to make it by the skin of her teeth.”

“When does she turn thirty?” Regan asked.

“In two weeks. They were going to celebrate on the honeymoon.” Adele shuffled around the corner to the bathroom, apparently feeling that she should at least attempt to offer some sisterly comfort.

Regan looked over at Alfred. Well at least he doesn’t have to worry about replacing Tracy ’s dress. Unless she manages to find another husband before the day of her Big 3-0.

Kit cleared her throat. “Regan, do you think we should tell her that you’re thirty-one and it doesn’t bother you that you’re getting married over thirty, and I’m thirty-one and I’m not even close to getting married? As a matter of fact, I can tell her that I don’t even have a date for your wedding.”