Hannah looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Claire had done it again. Hannah didn't understand sewing and had no real desire to learn, but she had to admit that being able to hide unwanted bulges would be a useful skill. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric of her dress - her wedding dress - and sighed with pleasure. Beautiful wasn't generally a word she associated with herself, but today would be the exception.
"And I didn't even have to go on a diet," she said aloud. Moishe gave a little cough that almsot sounded like a laugh. Hannah turned to glare at her cat, who gave a look so innocent she could almost believe he hadn't said a thing. Almost. She turned back to mirror. She knew that had she lost a little weight, she might have been a little more confident for today. However, Norman had refused to let her try to change for him. It was just one of the things she loved about him: he accepted her, as a real, individual person. Mike too often tried to make her into someone she wasn't, or, worse still, tried to step in and keep her from solving the many, many murders she had run across. Even Ross, the final corner of her ridiculous love triangle, had known her best in college, in her younger, better days. Slimmer days, thought Hannah, eyeing her reflection.
She shook her head, red curls bouncing wildly, and tried to put the thoughts out of her mind. The last thing she needed in the hours before her wedding were more doubts. She had certainly underestimated the power of the famous pre-wedding jitters. Hannah remembered with a smile how paranoid her mother had been before her marriage to Doc Bennet, sure that every little thing was bad luck. Hannah had known, of course, that the couple really were in love and that all of Dolores's fears would come to nothing, and had laughed at what she deemed excessive worrying. Now, however, she thought rather differently. The rational part of her knew that she loved Norman and he loved her, but some ridiculous part of her still worried.
Her musings were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. "Hannah! Aren't you dressed yet?" Andrea. Hannah thought with a smile. "Come in," she called. The door swung open to reveal her younger sister, looking somewhat breathless. "Hello, Big Guy," she said to Moishe, who was winding himself through her legs. "Get out of here, alright? I need Hannah right now." With a look of supreme disdain, Moishe trotted out of the room, tail held high. Hannah smiled. Andrea firmly closed the bedroom door behind him, then turned back to Hannah. "Dolores and Carrie are waiting."
Hannah groaned. This was the thing Hannah had been looking forward to least of all: the fussing of the mothers. Andrea gave her a sympathetic look. "Michelle is downstairs holding them off with some of your Chocolate Euphoria Bars and polite conversation."
"Bless her," said Hannah fervently. All the sisters knew well how fiercely their mother loved her chocolate. She walked over to her bed and flopped across it, rubbing her eyes. Andrea was on her instantly, tugging on her arm. "Get up! You'll wrinkle the it!"
"The dress or the sheets?" Hannah asked with a grin, but she quickly got up from the bed. Andrea raised an eyebrow.
"Where are your shoes?" she asked. Hannah glanced down at her bare toes peeking out from her floor length hem. Andrea and Michelle had gone shopping for her at the Tri-County Mall to pick out the perfect pair of shoes, and had come back with a pair of white, beaded high heels. Hannah had to admit they did look nice, but they were completely impractical, and she was certain she would never be able to walk in them. In all honesty, she had no clue where they had ended up. "They're...er...here somewhere?" Hannah said hopefully, praying her sister would just drop the issue. Of course, no such luck.
Andrea crossed her arms. "You never even took them out of the box, did you?" Hannah shook her head, marveling at how much like Dolores Andrea could seem. "You haven't seen them in a few days." It wasn't a question. Again Hannah shook her head. Andrea sighed, then turned and headed out the door. As soon as her sister was out of sight, Hannah, unsure of the cause of this miracle but thankful none the less, dashed to her closet and began pawing through her clothing in search of the beribboned shoebox. She froze when she heard Andrea clear her throat.
"Would you be looking for this, by any chance?" Hannah spun around to see Andrea holding out the shoes, the box under her arm. "You left them at my house the night we gave them to you," Andrea continued with a small smile. Hannah gave her a sheepish grin.
"Thanks, Andrea," she said, taking the heels and sitting down on the bed again, although more carefully this time.
"Don't thank me just yet," she warned. "Mother is determined that you wear those heels today, and if you get blisters, it'll be your own fault." Hannah sighed and tugged the shoes on. She stood up, tottered a bit, then took a few steps forward. To her surprise, she had better balance than she originally expected.
"See?" Andrea said with a smile. "Not so dreadful after all." Andrea. of course, wore her own black stilettos perfectly, and her heels were even higher than Hannah's. Hannah shook her head and took her sister's arm.
"Come on. Let's go meet the mothers."
A.N: Hello everyone! I'm sure probably only three people will ever read this, but bless those of you who do! As you may have seen, this story is part of a competition between myself (Team Norman), and my dear friend Ladyinblue16 (Team Ross). Both of us, of course, are great fans of the series. We are each going to write a fanfic with nearly identical storylines, with one key differences: the husband. Whichever fic gets more favorites/followers/rave reviews will win it for that specific man. No Team Mike, sorry. I've no idea what she's doing, but I've elected to go with shorter chapters, but posting more of them. So yes. Please enjoy, and help me fight for Norman!
-Forever the Optimist