“I went there first. Miriam suggested I come to see you,” she said smiling. “They said you would be glad to help me.’
(Oh, that Miriam. She loves a good joke. Wait until I get the chance to pay her back for this, the haughty one thought to herself.)
Just then the elderly woman spotted a powder blue dress on a nearby rack. She stood and walked quickly toward it. Before the consultant could stop her, she held the dress before her in a mirror.
“Now, this one I like. It is beautiful, but not too showy!” It was a plain dress with a long-sleeved jacket edged with just a touch of matching lace, “I should have matching shoes, of course. I will wear my strand of pearls. Afterward, I will give them to the bride as a wedding present. They belonged to my grandmother. Look, the dress is just my size!”
The consultant gulped. She was suddenly feeling a mix of frustration, sympathy and anger. How could she tell this sweet old lady that the price of the dress she wanted was three hundred dollars? Matching shoes would be another seventy-five dollars. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
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A young, beautifully dressed bride-to-be stood nearby watching the scene. She had just picked up the custom veil she had ordered for her own wedding next week. Her family was well-off and had told her to spend whatever she wished on her wedding. She interrupted the consultant before she could speak to the grandmother about the dress.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said as she led the consultant a side and whispered. “Let her have the dress, shoes, whatever else she needs. Just add it to my bill. Tell her they are on sale. Just take fifty dollars of her money. That will leave her with a little spending money—and her pride.”
“But why?” The consultant asked. “You don’t even know her.”
“Just call it a wedding present to myself. I never knew either of my grandmothers. As I walk down the aisle, I will think of her and pretend she is my grandmother, too.”
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