The morning was clear and warm when the ranch truck parked in front of the bridal shop in town. "Silk Dreams" was the name—a small place, but with a breathtaking window display, full of lace, tulle, and sparkles that would make any woman dream.
I, however, was more terrified than dreamy.
"Let's go, girl!" Rosa pulled me by the arm, her eyes shining with excitement. "My political granddaughter's dress won't choose itself!"
"Political granddaughter?" I repeated, laughing.
"I just invented it. Like it?"
"Love it."
The little old ladies were already at the shop door, Teresa with her nose pressed against the glass, Maria trying to open the sliding door the wrong way, and Dorotea watching them both with an expression of pure existential exhaustion.
"Teresa, move your nose, you'll mark the
