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Chapter Eleven

“A watched pot never boils,” my mom warned me. I opened her front door for the hundredth time and stared out forlornly.

“I had it overnighted,” I said, more for my sake than hers. “It should be here. It’s it’s…” I looked back at the grandfather clock in her living room. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“They do deliveries until about four o’clock in the afternoon,” my mom reminded me.

I closed the door and sank onto the couch. Brooklyn was lying on the floor cooing to herself. Her legs kicked out happily.

“I can’t believe she’s almost nine weeks old,” my mom said kneeling down next to her. “Look at those little legs kick.”

I smiled. “She’s a smart little girl. For the past couple weeks I’ve still been telling people she’s six weeks old. Time’s getting all screwy.”

I had been at my mom’s house since about eight o’clock in the morning. Nick had been all ready to enjoy a quiet lazy morning when I reminded him that he needed to get his tux ordered.

“The guys and I get tuxes all the time,” he argued. “We could request the day before the wedding and be fine.”

“Nick!”

One look at my face had him recanting. When I left the house with Brooklyn buckled safely into her carrier, he was sending e-mails to the guys with the vest color and style specifics.

“Don’t forget to eat a cinnamon roll,” my mom said. I stifled a sigh.

The minute I had walked into her house I had smelled her world-famous cinnamon rolls. My stomach, empty after having nothing but egg drop soup the day before, rebelled angrily. I had politely declined the first five times she had offered me a roll. My resolve was crumbling as my stress level rose.

“I’ll get one in a bit,” I said. My mom settled down cross legged by Brooklyn and picked up a rattle.

“Does your dress need any alterations?”

I shook my head. “Nope, it’s absolutely perfect.”

“What size is it?”

I hedged around and pretended to be very interested in the bridal magazine I had brought along.

“An eight.”

“An eight?”

I looked up. Mom was staring at me in surprise.

“You know clothes,” I said airily. “In one store you need a twelve; in another you need an eight.”

“You’ve never worn an eight before.”

“Well, I do now,” I said happily.

“Is this why you’re declining my cinnamon rolls?”

Ugh. Moms.

“I can’t eat when I’m nervous,” I explained.

“You always eat when you’re nervous,” mom replied. She was right.

“Okay, I might need to lose about five pounds or so. But it’s a one of a kind dress.”

Mom laughed. “Well I can’t wait to see this one of a kind dress.”

The hours crawled by slowly. I went online every thirty minutes and checked my tracking number. It always said the same thing: out for delivery. By three o’clock I called.

“UPS. How many I help you?”

I gave the guy my name and tracking number.

“The status of your package says that it is currently out for delivery.”

I sighed. “Yes, I know. But, I paid to have it overnighted. What time do you guys stop deliveries?”

“Typically seven o’clock. But, if it’s out for delivery our guys will tend to keep going until the packages have been distributed.”

“What if I don’t get it today?” I said. I heard my voice go up an octave.

“Then please go ahead and call our 24-hour number.”

He gave me a 1-800 number. I hung up feeling unsatisfied.

“What did they say?”

“Well, the guy pretty much hinted that I needed to be patient.”

I fed Brooklyn, hoping that my caught at an inopportune time would bring the UPS guy there faster. By the time I burped her I knew that plan didn’t work.

Nick called around four.

“Hasn’t it come yet?” he asked. “I’m hungry.”

“No, it hasn’t come yet. I’ve got to stay here until it does.”

“Well what are you going to do for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

I hadn’t eaten all day. I was a ball of pent up nerves.

“How late do they stay out and deliver?”

“About seven.”

“I’ll faint by then!”

“Go ahead and get something for yourself. Don’t worry.”

“Can I pick something up for you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get something over here at mom’s.”

“I love you. Don’t stress out.”

I laughed. That was easier said than done. “Okay. Love you.”

I hung up and sighed. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen.

“I’m making meatloaf. You’re eating whether you want to or not.”

An hour later I sat picking at the meatloaf and looking at the clock. I powered on my laptop and check the status. I about choked on my mashed potatoes when I saw that the status said delivered.

“What’s wrong?” my mom asked. I didn’t stop to answer her. I leapt into the living room and through open the door.

No box.

I yanked out my cell phone and called the 1-800 number. This time a lady answered.

“UPS. How may I help you?”

I gave the lady my name and explained the problem. The more I spoke the squeakier my voice became.

“Okay, calm down. Let me pull up the truck information.”

A line of sweat broke out along my forehead. I could hear the ladies nails clicking on her keyboard.

“The package was delivered to 321 Millton Court.”

My eyes widened. I dug the receipt out of my purse.

“No. No. No. The label on the box said 3321 HILLTOP Court. Your stupid driver took my box to the WRONG street!”

‘Let me see if the driver’s still on the road.”

I was put on hold while the lady tried to dispatch the driver. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

I felt tears spring to my eyes.

“They delivered my dress to the wrong house.”

I was heavily crying by the time the lady came back on the line.

“I got in contact with the driver. You should receive your package in the next half hour.”

I choked on a sob and then hiccupped. I was a mess.

“Thank you,” I said with a mighty sniffle.

The lady gave me her name and told me to call if I didn’t get my package in the next hour. I hung up and grabbed a bunch of Kleenex.

“Oh, sweetie,” mom said coming out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on a towel and then hugged me tightly. “What are we going to do with you?”

I blew my nose hard. “I just want my dress,” I said in a teeny tiny voice. I also wanted to stuff my face full of mashed potatoes and meatloaf, but that was another story.

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell finally rang. I yanked open the door to see a sheepish driver holding my box. I grabbed it and clung to it possessively.

“I’m really sorry about the mix-up,” the driver said, sounding less than sorry. “That must be an important box.”

I glared at him with red rimmed eyes. “You have no idea.”

Without losing my manners completely, I thanked him and closed the door. The moment I did I set the box on the floor and used my nails to work the tape. My mom came and knelt beside me. Brooklyn was in her bouncer, fast asleep.

I pushed the packing peanuts aside. My fingers touched the pink garment bag and I hoisted it out. As I stood peanuts drifted lazily to the ground, some sticking to my leg on the way.

“Where can I hang it?” I said looked around. Mom pointed at the doorway.

“Hang it there and unzip it so I can see.”

I did as she instructed. My heart beat fast as I brought the zipper down.

And there it was in all of its beautiful white glory. I clasped my hands together and let out a sigh.

“Oh, Livvy,” mom said. She stepped forward and scooped the bottom of the dress out of the back. She pulled it forward and looked at the back. “This is beautiful.”

I beamed. My mom glanced at me.

“Can I see it on you?”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Can I see it?”

I walked over and dug in the bottom of the garment bag. My Spanx was nestled within.

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

Twenty minutes later mom tugged the dress down over my hips. Once again I couldn’t breathe, but damn I loved the dress.

“What do you think?” I asked my mom. She smiled.

“It’s beautiful, but it’s so tight. Have you tried sitting in it?”

I gave her a blank look. I had never thought of the need to sit down.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I still have six weeks to lose the baby weight.”

“Honey, the baby weight melted off of you. You’re a natural curvy girl.”

I lifted my head and tried to take a deep breath. It was easier said than done.

“Oh, honey. No dress is worth this,” my mom said. I shook my head defiantly.

“This one is.”

My mom knew when to quit. With her help I got out of the dress. I slipped off the Spanx and we put everything back in the garment bag. I watched with a hawk’s eye as she hung the dress in the empty hall closet.

“It will be safe here,” she assured me. I nodded.

“I know.” I pulled back my hair in a ponytail. “But I’m going to evoke visiting rights.”

She laughed. “You can come over here anytime you want.”

I gave her a hug; she gave me cinnamon rolls to take home. I loaded Brooklyn into the car and we took off for home.

I hadn’t done much the entire day, but I was exhausted. The stress of waiting hour after hour for the guy to drop off the box had mentally shorted my mind.

My mouth watered as the smell of icing filled my car. I made up my mind that the minute I got home I was going to nibble on some lettuce and call it a day.

It was hard work being a bride.