"Lord have mercy, it's a hot one." Niobe sighed, fanning herself with her hand, she rolled her gaze, hidden behind a large pair of a Chanel shades, towards Aubrey. "This sun is brutal today. You wouldn't happen to have sunscreen?"

Aubrey, aghast, set a hand to her chest. "With this skin? Sweetheart, I need a force field to rival Stark Trek Enterprise, and never leave home without it." Snapping open her purse, she waved a dainty bottle of SPF 45.

Holding out her hand for a dollop, Niobe glanced over her shoulder as Victory raced up the street, chocolates tucked under her arm and a sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Sorry." Victory kissed her mother's cheek, followed with Niobe's. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I completely lost track of time until Isabel called, and—"

"It's fine," The two words rang with irritation as Niobe smoothed sunscreen over her cheeks, brow and neck.

"Not all that late." Isabel, dressed in a navy shirt and white slacks with a gold belt to match her ballet flats, she was even more stunning in daylight. Her silver hair was tied back in a long smooth tail and blue eyes, deep as sapphires, radiant against skin of porcelain.

"Excellent, well, now that we're all here," sweeping out a hand towards the door, Isabel held it open and waited for everyone to step inside before following behind them.

Swept into a world of lace, ivory and crystal, every surface glistened and gleamed. Dresses lined the walls like artwork, sparking imagination and evoking wonder. The low lighting with the soft fragrance of flowers and joyful tears added the air of whimsical fancy in the room, long and narrow, elegantly outfitted, and exuded vintage sophistication and opulent luxury.

At the far end, the change rooms lined the back wall, hidden behind white silken drapes, all carefully arranged by pretty and plush seating and a large trifold mirror facing a round white pedestal where she imagined many a soon-to-be bride stood, admiring gown after gown in the search for the one that would be 'hers'.

"This place is so...pretty." Victory sighed in admiration. "Not at all like what I imagined. It's so...cozy and elegant."

"Niobe was very specific." Isabel smiled, hugging her overflowing notebook to chest. "She was quite clear about wanting to steer clear of the large scale manufacturers."

"That's because I don't want a dress worn by a thousand other brides," Niobe flicked her length of dark hair over her shoulder. "But nor do I want to spend tens of thousands on a custom, designer gown because I am marrying a celebrity." Then added with a dramatic flutter of her lashes, "My civilian sensibilities simply cannot justify the extravagance."

"It's here." Kissed with the chill of excitement, Victory ran her hands over her arms, felt her skin prickled beneath her touch, and smiled. "Your dress, Bee, we'll find it here. I can feel it."

"I hope so." Niobe answered, forgetting all about her earlier frustration, looping her arm through Victory's as a tall Asian man, young and smiling, scuttled over, casually dressed in jeans cuffed at the ankles, buttoned up shirt and designer loafers.

"Bruce." Isabel thrust out a hand, which he took, and held. "Thanks for squeezing us in at such short notice."

"Oh, pleasure, darling, pleasure. Tell Spencer he owes me a big and juicy thanks. " He kissed the air above Isabel's cheeks in greeting and then spun towards Niobe, hand dramatically pressed to chest.

"Sweet Mother Chanel, would you look at her cheekbones? Darling your simply gorge. You've just made my day. Come, come, come," hands fluttering, he swept them further into the boutique.

"We're thinking ivory to start," Isabel mused, tapping the edge of her pen against her chin, "full skirt with a lot of intricate beadwork."

"Yes," Bruce agreed, giving Niobe a quick circle and once over. "You've got a fantastic shape, lots of great curves with a tiny waist, long legs and slender arms. I see you contemporary and maybe a kiss of vintage glamour. Nothing too overt, keep the fabrics fluid and the waistline tight. Come, let's see if we can find you a dress to rival your natural beauty."

Bruce gave them a quick tour of the racks running all along the periphery of the room, broken down by designer, style and price, the least expensive at the front working straight down to most expensive at the back. Everything from silk and lace, to chiffon and charmeuse, georgette and duchesse satin, some covered in lace brocade, others in crystal, or others with barely any embellishment at all.

While he and Isabel pulled what they thought would best, they allowed the rest of the entourage a chance to explore a few wild card options. Deciding to divide and conquer, they split up among the racks, searching through gown after gown until Victory thought her head was going to implode.

"Oh, look at this one." Niobe sighed, parting the sea of Ivory and white to reveal a confection of silk.

Victory angled her head left, right, shrugged. "Sure. I guess. Doesn't look like much on the hanger."

"Vee, poor thing. How did you manage to survive without me?" She sighed, shaking her head with a measure of disdain. "Oh, and before I forget, those chocolate truffles, you bitch, are insane. I snuck one after Bruce set them all up with the flutes of bubbly."

"I'm glad. Found this great little chocolatier I discovered with Gage. We stopped over there after...what?"

"You." Niobe's smile spread wide and fast. "You're glowing. I don't think I've ever seen you like this after a date."

"Ambush, you mean."

"Semantics." Niobe gave her shoulder a nudge. "And don't change the subject. Dish. Have you guys..." Slanting her gaze, she gave a suggestive wiggle of her brows.

"No, I don't think he and I..."

Niobe halted so abruptly, Victory almost walked straight into her. "Don't you like him?"

"I do." Frowning, she slid her gaze away from Niobe's stern and questioning face to the sea of unassuming and less hostile dresses. "Of course I do. He's gorgeous, built, easy to talk to and a very talented kisser. But things are complicated right now." Pausing, she pushed aside another dress then decided, best just to come straight out with it. "Derek's back."

From her periphery, she saw Niobe's eyes pop, big and round as her designer Dior sunglasses. "What?"

"Geez, Bee." Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see her mother and Isabel were too engrossed in their hunt for wedding dresses to have overheard the sharp outburst. "Keep it down or else they'll—"

"Don't you dare shush me." Niobe glared, swatting her arm. "When did this happen and why didn't you say anything to me?"

"A couple of days ago." Arm stinging, Victory rubbed it, kneading the muscle. "And I didn't say anything because I didn't want to upset you."

Snatching her hand, Niobe made a beeline for the washrooms, hauled Victory inside and locked the door. "Okay," back to the door Niobe folded her arms over her chest. "We've got two, maybe three, minutes before we're interrupted. Give me the highlights."

"Bee," she started to groan and was stopped cold by the arch of a demanding brow. So, with a roll of her eyes, she summed the entire unpleasant episode in sixty seconds.

"If I get my hands on that mother...I'll break his spine." Niobe snarled, her dark eyes, full of venom. "I'll rip out every strand of hair on his head with tweezers. I'll—oh you poor thing!" And just like that, all thoughts of murderous rage was forgotten and replaced with instant pity as she stroked a hand down Victory's arm. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Better than fine, actually." And that wasn't at all untrue. She'd handled it, and him, like a champ, setting him out on his ass and showing him that she wasn't one to be walked over anymore. She had a backbone now, it may have taken a few years to grow, but it was there and he'd think twice before messing with her again.

"Good. I'm glad. I always suspected he'd come out of hiding now that you'd created a name for yourself. You don't need him dragging up all that baggage and drama."

"Don't worry, he's not worth losing sleep over. But seeing Derek made me realize that I'm not ready to be involved with anyone right now. This is my time. Time to focus on Soleil and my plans. I'm finally getting ahead after spending so many years lagging behind. And Gage, although great company, is a complication I just don't need."

"Vee," Niobe cocked her head with a sigh, squeezing Victory's hand. "Have some fun. Life is about embracing the moments."

"It's just one guy," she muttered. "I don't see why—?"

"How many long term relationships have you had since Derek?" Niobe pressed, a perfectly manicured brow curving in question.

Victory exhaled heavily, ruffling her freshly trimmed bangs desperately in need of a trim.

There'd been Stuart, the insurance lawyer who liked foreign films. They'd dated for a few months before he'd secured a position that had him moving cross country to Calgary. Then the following year, paramedic Louis. Great guy, really great guy who had wanted so much more from their brief six months, but that had gone nowhere, fizzled out fast.

And that hadn't been his fault, she admitted reluctantly. The spark had never been there for her, not truly. She'd given it a valiant effort. Not that it mattered, in the end.

"Not many." She admitted.

"You've given him enough, Vee," Facing her, Niobe braced her shoulders, leveled her gaze. "Don't let Derek take away any more from you than he already has."

Because she knew they were pushing their luck, and partly because Victory just wanted to close the subject on the matter of her dodgy love life, she smiled, took Niobe's hand and tugged her away from the door.

"Alright. I promise I'll give Gage a chance. Now, enough about men. Today is about you and dresses and booze."

For the next hour, they drank champagne, nibbled on chocolates and strawberries, trying on dresses. Between perfume and tulle, tiaras and lace, Victory was caught up in the whirlwind of whimsical dreams and fairy tale endings, both of which struck a chord deep within her that she had never thought to find.

And the note it played was 'I wonder if someday this could be me', not a tune she was particularly excited to hear whispering about her head, but considering her surroundings, she let it go and paid it no mind.

They worked through a line of dresses, starting with the big, the grand, the opulent and bold, from the most elegant and dramatic of princess to the fiery bling of a true diva. And although Niobe had the face, and the body to hold her own and not get lost in the miles of silk, organza and sparkle, nothing clicked.

So they worked down in size and scale, to elegant sheaths of simple silk and tightly wrapped bodices of corseted lace.

And as they all awed and ooed, Bruce circled about, offering words of praise and flattery, refilling flutes and opening a fresh bottle when one ran out.

With dress number fourteen, and a hush fell among them as Niobe stood alone on the dais and facing the mirror in a dress of ivory lace. A sweetheart neckline met little capped shoulders and a deeply plunging back and the skirt flared out from the hips in a tapered a line with just a bit of fullness. Crystal shimmered and sparkled throughout and brought to mind sunlight caressing freshly fallen snow, rising up to gather and cluster just below the bust into intricate arrangement of stones.

Victory lifted her eyes to Niobe's face, reflected in the mirror and saw exactly what she had thought to see.

It was all there, in her eyes, the moment of awe, the wonder and joy—with the faintest tug of sorrow as Niobe brushed her fingers over the sparkle of the bodice. A moment of discover and decisiveness, Victory knew—as she'd felt the same when walking into the empty lot that would soon become her restaurant—when everything fell into place, and the questions were suddenly replaced with answers—with knowing.

This was it. The instance where dreams slid seamlessly into reality. This was her dress.

Sweeping in with a floor length cathedral veil, the edges scalloped in lace and crystal to match the dress, Bruce fixed the clasp to her hair, draping it just at the crown and letting it fall over her shoulders, adjusting the length so it spread out, a sheer and gauzy film, adding another layer of romantic elegance.

Standing back in study, Bruce cocked his head, and his hip, "Love it. You're all Hepburn meets Coco Chanel and Amazon. Fierce, darling. Positively fierce."

"You can't get higher praise then that." Isabel chimed in, words just a little slurred from the buzz of frothed wine and weight of tears. "And that veil is sensational. Bruce, you're a master of accessories."

Tears shimmering in her lashes, Niobe glanced over, her eyes found Victory first, and filled. She held out her hand, and Victory rose to take it as Aubrey snatched tissues and blew her nose loudly. Standing by her side, she scooped a hand around Niobe's waist and the two of them held there, eyes connected in the mirror, needing no words and no explanation to convey their thoughts.

"I'm getting married," she whispered, her voice softening with happy tears. "I'm actually getting married."

"Aren't you a knockout?"

The four women swung around from the mirror and the moment to face the stunning dark haired beauty who stood smiling with a large leather portfolio tucked under her arm.

"Darcy?" Niobe leapt down from the pedestal, Darcy set down her purse and portfolio on a cushion of pristine white so she could return her embrace.

"I don't remember calling you to meet me here? What a surprise."

"Actually," Darcy pushed back her thick black hair, green eyes shining with excitement. "Isabel did. She thought, well, why don't I just show you?" Sitting down in the chaise facing Victory and her parents, Niobe lowered next to Darcy as she set the portfolio on her lap and popped the clasps to reveal the sketchbook beneath the leather cover.

"Dresses." Niobe murmured, as she scanned the first page. "Are you drafting a new line or...?" realization struck, her eyes watered. "Bridesmaids. Oh, wow," her breath caught, reverent with wonder and praise at the hand drawn sketches of Shayne, Paige, Victory, and even her cousin, Kennedy flowed on paper.

Next to each girl was a swatch of fabric in a variety of bold, deep, scintillating tones showcased in varying degrees of detail.

"The patterning you see here," Darcy scooted closer, brushing her finger along the page, "the metallic hand painted accents unites them, creating a sense of coordination while the bold colours, and shapes and styles of the dresses will add not only visual interest but individuality."

"Darcy," Niobe sighed, passing over the portfolio to Victory so she and her parents could squeeze in and browse. "They are amazing."

"I can sit down with each of you, and work through preferences with length, cut, filtering it all through my own common-sense and creative judgement, of course." Darcy smoothed sweaty palms expectantly over her thighs, drummed her fingers there—the only outward sign of her anticipation and nerves.

"They look gorgeous." Victory admitted, turning from page to page, admiring the various designs and colours. I love the richness of the colours, and these...hand painted, you said?"

"Yes," Darcy nodded, her green eyes as rich and lustrous as the emerald dress she had earmarked for Shayne. "It's kind of my signature. These will be in metallic paints in subtle shades of gold with Swarovski crystals to catch all that buttery candle light. You guys will shine as radiant as precious gems."

"I am such a horrible friend. Why didn't it occur to me to draft you for this?"

"Because that's my job." Isabel leaned forward, set a reassuring hand on Niobe's knee. "I am here so you don't have to worry, or think or stress."

"They are fantastic, Darcy. Gorgeous works of art and the dresses will always be special. Unique, and intriguing enough that they won't go out of style...I love them. All of them. Darcy Mercer—you're hired!" Gleefully, Niobe threw her arms around Darcy's neck.

Beyond them was a pop and froth of bubbles as Bruce uncorked a fresh bottle, and for the next hour, it was nothing but champagne, laughter, tears and wedding joy.