Sara woke up late. She knew it was late because by the time she emerged from the family wing, no one was to be seen. She found Eavan in the kitchen, doing the breakfast dishes and singing to the radio.

"A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita is all I need, a little bit of Tina is what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun…"

"Don't tell me you didn't get your dishwasher fixed yet!" Sara shouted over the music.

Eavan jumped and turned around to lower the radio. "Sunshine, you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry. Good morning, Mom," Sara kissed her mother's cheek.

"Good afternoon is more like it!" laughed Eavan, patting Sara's hair. "When was the last time you trimmed your hair? Your ends are dry."

"You need help with these?" Sara avoided the subject and jumped right in to help Eavan wash the dishes in her pajamas.

"Sure, why not," Eavan smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Gosh, Sunshine, it's so nice to have you staying here. We miss you so much."

"It's work," Sara said, scrubbing away.

"I'm sure you get sick days. Right? I mean, how else would you get down here."

Sara didn't want to tell her mother that she hated to leave work. She actually didn't even want to think about work. She had even left her cellphone and pager back in Las Vegas and given Catherine and Grissom only the number of Sara's Place in case of a dire emergency. So, Sara changed the topic. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Well, there's a formal cocktail party tonight," Eavan said slowly, scrubbing a frying pan, "then the rehearsal dinner on Friday and the wedding on Saturday."

"Cocktail party?" Sara exclaimed, letting a dish slip from her hand. It clattered in the sink. "Wiley never told me there was a cocktail party!"

"Oh, dear. That boy..." Eavan sighed. "I bet if he'd told you, you wouldn't be standing here before me right now. He sure does know how to charm you."

"Yeah, he's a real lady-killer."

"Let me guess—you have nothing to wear to the aforementioned cocktail party."

"Absolutely not."

Eavan looked her daughter up and down—God, what a body at thirty-three! When Eavan herself was this age, she was seventeen pounds underweight and bald from chemotherapy. "I'll give Cecilia a call. She'll know exactly what you'll need. What size are you, four?"

"Eight. But thanks." Damn breakfast burritos.

"Cecilia has that magic touch. She'll find something."

"What about you?"

"Oh, honey, you know me. I've got the same little black dress I've been wearing since 1972. A classic never dies, you know."

Sara knew. Eavan had worn the same strappy black dress for nearly every formal event Sara remembered she had attended. She wore the same shoes, the same jewelry and, if the weather was cool, the same silvery shawl, every time.

"I'd say blue is her best color," Eavan was saying, on the phone now with Cecilia. "Blue or red, or maybe a soft green? Is red too flashy? Yes, I thought so, too," Eavan paused and eyeballed Sara. "You know what? Stick with blue. Something that shows off her shoulders or at least her arms. Yes. Yes. Thank you. I'll see you later. Bye-bye." Eavan hung up the phone. "Cecilia will be over in a few hours with a dress for you."

"Great," Sara said grimly.

"Try not to suck all the happiness out of the room, or there'll be none left for me," Eavan smiled.

"Eavan? Can I steal Sara away?" came a new voice from the kitchen doorway.

"Go ahead, Polly," Eavan turned and smiled. "I need to shower and change anyway."

Eavan stepped out of the room, leaving Polexia and Sara alone. Sara was still in her boxer shorts and t-shirt, while Polexia was dressed in a pair of chocolate brown slacks with a pink pinstripe and a matching pink shirt.

"Wiley and I took my parents to brunch and we're just getting back," Polexia said, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. "I'm on my way to the bridal shop and I need you to come with me so Maia can make the proper modifications to Breeze's gown for you in time for the wedding on Saturday."

"Oh…should I wear anything, you know, special?" Sara looked down at her own clothes and then at Polexia's outfit.

Polexia laughed. "No, don't worry about it. I'm actually on my way to my room to put on a pair of jeans. You might as well do the same."

Sara took that advice and went to her room to don her favorite pair of Levis and a joke t-shirt that read Jenius and met Polexia in the foyer of Sara's Place beside the reception desk—abandoned for the week.

"Ready?" Polexia brandished a set of car keys. "Wiley gave me his Ford while he and his boys are out doing some last minute shopping."

"Sounds good," Sara said.

"I hope you like the dresses," Polexia said as the pair left the house. "Everyone tells me they're very tasteful."

"I'm sure they are."

They got in the car, with Polexia behind the wheel. She popped in her favorite CD and they were off.

"I love U2," Polexia sighed as "Pride In The Name of Love" filled the car. "I go to their concerts every time they're in town. Bono is so gorgeous up close."

Sara didn't do much talking, but they weren't silent. Polexia talked nearly the entire ride there. She mostly talked about herself, probably for Sara's benefit, seeing that they had only met last night and didn't know much about each other.

By the time Sara and Polexia arrived at Apollo and Dionysus Bridal, Sara knew that Polexia's favorite food was Italian hoagies, her favorite ice cream was chocolate-chip cookie dough and her favorite color was, of course, pink. Her favorite movie was Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures, her favorite book was Flowers in the Attic and her favorite actors were Jude Law and Charlize Theron.

"Oh, and did I mention? You'll get to meet your fellow bridesmaids today, too. All five of them," Polexia added as she and Sara stepped from the car. Polexia surveyed the parking lot. "Looks like we're the last to arrive…no, wait, here comes Maaike."

A sleek and shiny silver Beamer convertible pulled up to the shop with an attractive dark-haired, olive-skinned woman behind the wheel. She wore round sunglasses with dark purple lenses and had a white scarf tied about her head, Grace Kelly style. Between two of her fingers was a cigarette. The music on the sound system was Elton John. When she stepped out of the car, Sara saw this woman was nearly six feet tall. She wore a beige skirt with a blazer and high heels. She untied the scarf and stomped out her cigarette.

"Hello, Maaike!" Polexia greeted the woman, who had to bend to air-kiss Polexia's cheeks.

"Good afternoon, Bride-To-Be!" the woman replied, whose name Polexia had pronounced "Mai-ka".

"Why are you so dressed?"

"I was coming from a business meeting," Maaike said curtly. She had an accent that Sara could not place.

"Sara, this is Maaike Douglas. She owns her own chain of beauty salons," Polexia said proudly to Sara. "They're abundant across Europe and one just opened in Beverly Hills and another's in the works in New York."

"If contractors get off lazy ass. Who is this?" Maaike Douglas nodded towards Sara.

"I'm Sara…Wiley's sister. Wiley, the groom," Sara said. She held out her hand for Maaike to shake, which she did, surprisingly gently for such a large, authoritative woman.

"Nice to be meeting you."

"Well, I'm sure the girls are waiting for us," Polexia said, opening the door.

"Whoopee-do," muttered Maaike. Polexia didn't hear but Sara did. "Can hardly wait."

As much as Sara was beginning to like Polexia, she was unsure about the company she kept. In other words, the other bridesmaids. Daphne Allen, Elsa Kressly, Honore Felicia and Lilith Rodriguez were all sensual, beautiful women with ridiculous standards. Some were on their second or third marriages; Elsa was on her fifth.

Sara didn't say anything to Polexia, but she found the other bridesmaids to be transparent and conceited. During the dress fitting, they chattered so incessantly that Sara wanted to stick pencils in her ears to distract herself from the pain.

The only one of the group that Sara could stand was Maaike. Maaike was one tough cookie, by Sara's standards. She found out later that Maaike was raised in Holland by a Yugoslavian mother and a German father, still single and a successful and powerful entrepreneur. She and Polexia knew each other from their college days when they both made a living selling Mary Kay. There was something dark about Maaike that Sara was drawn to. She was sarcastic but funny and always had a response to any insult the other girls threw at her.

"It's silly to have children in your first marriage," Honore was saying, who had dark, curly hair and dark eyes to match. "Your first marriage is just getting your feet wet, for gods sake, a trial marriage; don't ruin it with children."

"I don't see anything wrong with it," frowned Daphne, a slender young woman with blue-black hair, bright blue eyes and a peaches-and-cream complexion. She herself had two children, a boy and a girl, from her first and only husband.

"Neither do I," Lilith agreed. "As long as you don't jump right into it. I told Galán no children until we've been married at least seven years." Lilith was a model married to an Argentinean soap opera star.

"Children only fuck up relationship," Maaike murmured in her muddled accent. "I don't know why women even bother." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a silk-lined cigarette holder. She opened it, withdrew one and lit it. She stood near an open window as she smoked.

"You bothered, didn't you, Maaike?" Elsa said sickeningly sweetly, pronouncing Maaike's name "Mikey".

"The fuck are you talking about? It's Mai-ka, you witch," Maaike mumbled the last part under her breath.

"What do you mean? I'm talking about Lorelei, of course!"

"Oh, yes," Honore cooed. "Lorelei. How old is she now, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Eighteen," Maaike said.

"Is she still living in Prague?" asked Lilith

"Did she have the baby?" asked Daphne.

"You have a daughter?" asked Sara.

"In answer to all your questions: yes," Maaike replied. And then she got up and left the room.

Elsa gave a shrill little laugh. "I honestly don't know why Polly keeps her around!" she said in a low voice to the other girls.

"Maaike has a daughter?" Sara asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Polexia said, emerging from the dressing room, aglow in white satin. Her dress was positively stunning. It had short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, embroidered lace appliqués and a cathedral train. The layers of crinoline beneath the skirt made it puff out, making Polexia's round face and broad shoulders look smaller. "From a college boyfriend. I never met him, but I remember when she told me she was pregnant. We were both eighteen. She had Lorelei, of course, even though her parents were furious. Maaike raised her daughter wonderfully, but then Lorelei got pregnant a few years ago. Maaike sent her to a special school in Prague, where Lorelei had her baby. Supposedly she's still living there. Lilith, could you zip me up?"

"She sent away her daughter because she was pregnant?" Sara frowned.

"Naturally," Lilith said, zipping Polexia's dress. "Lorelei was only sixteen. Maaike was ashamed that her daughter had made the same mistake she did."

"Do you have any children, Sara?" Daphne asked gently. Sara could tell Daphne was trying to be nice. Polexia told her later that Daphne was definitely the kindest one. She had been raised in India with her parents: a British Navy admiral and a nurse.

"No," Sara answered simply.

"Are you even married?" Honore asked.

"Uh-uh."

"Boyfriend?" asked Elsa, frowning.

"No."

"My God, what do you do with your life?"

"I chase rabbits."

Elsa blinked a few times. It was obvious that she didn't have a response to Sara. Thankfully, Maia the dressmaker entered the private dressing room, dragging a rack of pink bridesmaids' dresses.

"Okay ladies," Maia said. "Today's the last day so don't go gaining any weight."

Polexia introduced Sara to Maia, who then instructed Sara to strip to the skivvies and stand on a low stool for her dress adjustments.

"Strip here?" Sara looked around her. Polexia and her friends, sans Maaike, were all staring at her.

"We've all got the same goodies, Sara," Elsa said, tossing her bleached blonde hair back. "What are you so afraid of?"

Sara decided she liked Elsa the least. "Nothing," Sara replied defensively through gritted teeth. And to prove she wasn't afraid, right away she unzipped her jeans, letting them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them while simultaneously pulling her tee over her head. Then, she stepped onto the stool that Maia had designated and awaited the dress.

Sara wanted to cry when she first saw the dress on her body. She knew it wasn't suppost to fit right—it was, after all, originally cut for another person. But the overall feel of it was terrible. First off, it wasn't a "tasteful" pink as Polexia and Eavan had insisted. It was more like…Pepto-Bismol. It was satin, which always made Sara sweat. It had short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that was suppost to match Polexia's dress and did nothing for Sara's small chest and it was way too tight at the hips, giving her a pear shape.

"The adjustments should be easy," Maia said, getting a box of pins. "You and Breeze weren't that dissimilar in body type. The bust needs to be taken in more than the hips need to be taken out. But not by much."

"It looks wonderful, Sara," gushed Elsa. Sara had to fight the urge to tackle her and scratch her face off.

"Okay, ladies," Maia turned to the other maids. "Why don't you take your dresses and put them on while I work on Sara."

"Where'd Maaike go?" Polexia's brow furrowed. She had missed the incident when the other girls had verbally attacked Maaike.

"Who knows," Honore rolled her eyes as she unzipped her skirt.

"I'm going to go find her," Polexia made for the door but Maia body blocked her.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not setting one foot outside of this shop in that dress."

"She doesn't have to," Maaike said, coming back into the room. From across the room, Sara could smell the stench of tobacco and, perhaps, bourbon.

"Good," Maia sighed. "Let's get going."

For nearly an hour, Sara stood as Maia made adjustments to the dress, including picking up the hem an inch. At first, Sara felt humiliated, but that feeling quickly went away when Elsa discovered she had gained five pounds. The fabric of the dress was taut around her entire torso and especially her breasts. The zipper also refused to go up. Sara would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire.

"I'm not making any alterations to this one," Maia insisted.

"But why not?" moaned the blonde. "The wedding's in three days!"

"Then I recommend you stop eating."

Sara liked Maia too.

Maaike looked just as miserable as Sara in that bright pink dress. "This stupid," Sara heard Maaike mutter.

"Why'd you do it?" blurted Sara. She was referring to the situation of Lorelei, of course, but Maaike misinterpreted.

"Because I love Polly. I do anything for her. Even wear pink."

Sara sighed and looked at her reflection. Pale skin and mousy brown hair swathed in a Pepto-Bismol nightmare. But Maaike was right, she decided. If she loved Wiley enough, she would do anything for him—even wear pink for his fourth and hopefully final wedding.