‘Noted,’ he said.
She locked the shop door again, still keeping the ‘closed’ sign in place, and vanished into the back room. Feeling a bit like a spare part—but wanting to know just how Claire had managed to lose a wedding dress—Sean waited in the main area of the shop until she walked back out, this time dressed in faded jeans and a strappy top rather than a wedding dress.
‘No coffee?’ she asked.
‘No.’
She folded her arms. ‘OK. Spit it out.’
‘Firstly, does Ashleigh actually have a dress?’ he asked.
‘There are three she likes,’ Claire said. ‘I’m taking them all over to Capri as soon as I can get a flight. Then she can try them on, and I’ll make any necessary alterations in time for the wedding.’
‘What I don’t understand is how you managed to lose her dress in the first place.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘Why wasn’t it with you in the plane?’
‘Believe it or not,’ she said dryly, ‘that was my original plan. I cleared it with the airline that I could put the boxes with her dress and mine in the overhead storage compartments, and if there was room they’d hang Ash’s dress on a rail in the stewardesses’ cabin. I packed both the dresses in boxes that specifically met the airline’s size guidelines. Your waistcoat and cravat, plus Luke’s and Tom’s, are packed in with my dress.’
So far, so sensible. But this was Claire—the woman who was chaos in high heels with a snippy attitude. ‘But?’
‘It turned out there were three other brides on the flight. One of whom was a total Bridezilla and demanded that her dress should be the one in with the stewardesses. There was a massive row. In the end, the captain intervened and ordered that all the bridal dresses should go in the hold with the rest of the luggage—even those belonging to people who weren’t involved in the argument with Bridezilla. He wouldn’t even let us put the dresses in the overhead lockers. The atmosphere on the plane was pretty bad.’ She shrugged. ‘The airline staff have looked in London and in Naples, and there’s no sign of the box with Ash’s dress. They’re still checking. It might turn up in time. But it probably won’t, so these dresses are my contingency plan—because I don’t intend to let Ash down. Ever.’
It hadn’t been entirely Claire’s fault, Sean acknowledged. But, at the same time, she had been the one responsible for the dress, and right now the dress was missing. ‘Why didn’t you buy a seat for the dress?’
‘They said I couldn’t—that if I wanted the dress to come with me, it would have to be treated as additional cabin luggage. Which,’ she pointed out, ‘is what I organised and what I paid for.’ Her blue eyes were icy as she added, ‘And, just in case you think I’m perfectly OK about the situation, understand that I’ve spent weeks working on that dress and I’m gutted that my best friend doesn’t get to wear the dress of her dreams—the dress I designed especially for her. But moaning on about the situation isn’t going to get the dress back. I’d rather do something practical to make sure Ash’s wedding goes as smoothly as possible. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have three wedding dresses to pack and a flight to book.’ She shrugged again. ‘But, if it makes you feel better, do feel free to storm and shout at me.’
Funny how she was the one in the wrong, but she’d managed to make him feel as if he were the one in the wrong, Sean thought.
Though she had a point. Complaining about the situation or losing his temper with her wouldn’t make the dress magically reappear. And Claire had spent most of today travelling—two and a half hours each way on a plane, plus an hour each way on a train and waiting round in between. Now she was just about to fly back to Italy: yet more travelling. All for his sister’s sake.
Claire Stewart was trying—in both senses of the phrase. But maybe he needed to try a bit harder, too.
‘Do you want me to find you a flight while you pack the dresses?’ he asked.
She looked at him as if he’d just grown two heads.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Are you actually being helpful?’ she asked. ‘To me?’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Don’t make it sound as if I’m always the one in the wrong.’
‘No. That would be me,’ she said. ‘In your regimented world view.’
‘I’m not regimented,’ he said, stung. ‘I’m organised and efficient. There’s a difference.’
Her expression suggested otherwise.