I walked into Everly & Co. Bridal in Charleston carrying my sister’s oversized designer tote like a pack mule. The place smelled of expensive perfume and steamed satin. Soft music played over hidden speakers while a row of gowns glittered under impossibly bright lights. I was the only one in army boots under all that sparkle.
My sister, Vanessa, was standing on a small platform in front of a wall of mirrors, auditioning for the role of royalty. She twirled in a crystal-covered gown while our mother, Diane, clapped her hands and told her she looked stunning. The sales staff hovered around her like she was a celebrity. Nobody even looked at me except when they needed something fetched.
Vanessa snapped her fingers, not looking at me. “Karen, the veil. The one with the beads…