What was it about this woman that felt so shadowy? Something niggled in my stomach.

Mina

This gown was it.

I lay in bed, restless, the image of Shevy in Tzirel’s gown overwhelming my mind.

There was no doubt in my heart. After all these years of intuiting when a kallah’s gown was hers, I knew with certainty that this was the gown Shevy would wear to her wedding.

It was no ordinary gown. I’d inspected it closely, analyzed the sewing work. Every detail was one hundred percent perfect. Whoever this seamstress was, she knew what she was doing. I couldn’t help wondering how much she’d charged the Dratlers.

And another thing I wondered: was Yocheved all that exclusive? If some private seamstress could accomplish something so spectacular, what made Yocheved’s gowns special? Could it be that the Lewin brand drove her price structure, and that Yocheved was ripping off her customers, charging way more than the gowns were worth?

But I couldn’t think about Lewin gowns now. I didn’t care about Lewin gowns. I didn’t want a Lewin gown.

I wanted Tzirel Dratler’s gown for Shevy. And I would do whatever it took to get it.

“Thanks so much for coming. I can only imagine how busy you must be, two weeks before the chasunah, and now with another kallah in the house.”

Mrs. Dratler ripped open a pack of Splenda and sprinkled it into her coffee. “Baruch Hashem for simchahs. But yes, it’s hectic.”

A waiter passed our table, waving a menu. “No, thanks,” I told him. “Just coffee.”

I wrapped my hands around my cup. “So,” I started. “Tzirel’s gown.”

Instantly, Mrs. Dratler tensed. Oh, goodness, poor woman. Was she still harrowed by her experience with Yocheved? I pushed my cup aside and leaned forward, planting my hands on the table.

“It’s gorgeous,” I said. “Absolutely magnificent. I cannot get over it.”

She gave a slight, suspicious nod.

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “You saw how beautiful Shevy looked in the gown last night. I went crazy. So I want to ask you straight out. Would you consider selling it to us?”

Mrs. Dratler’s jaws went slack. “Wh-what? You want… Tzirel’s gown for Shevy?”

I nodded. “Yes, I really do, very badly. Since I saw her in that gown, I can’t picture her in any other gown. You know the feeling?”

Her eyebrows rounded, forming creases in her forehead. “I… I hear that. I’m happy you like it.”

I waited. She shifted in her seat. “Uh, maybe. I mean, I guess it could work, why not, right? Can I get back to you with an answer?”

Her response startled me. I was sure she’d grab the opportunity to recoup some of the gown’s cost. What were these reservations?

“Sure,” I said. “Take your time, think it over.”

She looked at her watch. What was it about this woman that felt so shadowy? Something niggled in my stomach. Did she have something against me? Did she consider me an extension of Yocheved and the Lewin boutique? But our daughters were friends since kindergarten.

Mrs. Dratler stood up. “I guess I’ll go now. We’ll be in touch?”

“Uh, yes.” I swallowed. “Uh, actually, if you have another minute, there’s another thing I wanted to ask you.”

Again those suspicious eyes. “Okay, let’s hear,” she said.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 672)