A Love for Rebecca Read Online Free PDF

response. “Since you’re planning on leaving for vacation,” she said dryly, “we must take care of a few things immediately, such as your wedding dress and invitations. I’m calling Ángels so she can go with us this morning.”
    Rebecca nodded, not daring to disagree. “May I invite the girls to join us too? I’d like their opinion on my dress.”
    Her mother looked at her with misgiving. At the moment she held the two friends responsible for the troublesome trip. “Do whatever you want,” she answered peevishly. “After all, my opinion doesn’t seem to matter.”
    Elvira left the kitchen. Rebecca was sorry her mother had taken the idea of the trip so badly and knew that if it hadn’t been for her father, the whole thing would have fallen apart.
    Baudelia noticed Rebecca’s distress and sat down beside her. “Don’t worry, honey. You know how angry your mama can get, but she has a good heart. She’ll get over it soon enough.”
    “I know, Baudelia. It’s just that I think she might be right. But I’m so excited about a vacation with my friends.”
    “Of course you are, child. But it’s ’cause you’re so young and beautiful—your mama’s afraid something will happen to you. Just so you know, I think this trip with your friends is a good thing. I was young when I got married too, and . . . well, my husband was older than me . . . Oh, honey, I don’t know . . .”
    “It’s OK, Baudelia, you don’t have to pretend. I know you don’t like Mario either.”
    “No, that’s not it, honey. It’s just . . .”
    “Mario’s got a stick up his butt!” The women turned to see Inés stifling her laughter behind her hand.
    “You little devil! What did you say?” Rebecca scolded.
    “That’s what Enric said,” Inés let out between giggles. “He said Mario walks like he has a stick up his butt.”
    Baudelia couldn’t contain her amusement and, even though she tried to fight it, Rebecca succumbed to laughter as well.

    Two hours later, in the chic showroom of an elegant bridal boutique, Rebecca emerged in a cloud of white. The five pairs of eyes taking in the vision became so large it was comical.
    “You look like a princess!” cried Inés.
    Elvira and Ángels, her future mother-in-law—a short, stout woman—exchanged glances, each looking for a hint of what the other thought of the dress. It was obvious that neither one wanted to speak first for fear her opinion was too far off. In regard to fashion, neither woman wanted to seem too extravagant or too ordinary, too simple or too ostentatious.
    Rebecca looked to her friends for approval.
    “Too . . .” Lola began, and the older women listened expectantly. “I don’t know . . .” She rubbed her chin. “Too . . .”
    Mother and mother-in-law prompted her with a look, but Lola seemed to have gotten stuck; she and wedding gowns went together like an animal-rights activist sporting a matador’s suit of lights.
    Berta analyzed the dress carefully. She pushed her glasses up and tucked her straw-colored hair behind her ear. “Too voluptuous.”
    The women looked at her. There was something about this girl that communicated self-assurance and high standards. They didn’t know if it was the glasses—which gave her an intellectual air—or if the fact that she was less feminine made her more objective, but Elvira and Ángels accepted her opinion as the most valid.
    “Yes,” one agreed, “too voluptuous.”
    “Exactly,” said the other. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
    When Rebecca came out in the next dress, everyone looked to Berta, who seemed to have a special gift for saying the right thing and leaving no room for doubt.
    “Too plain,” she said this time.
    “True,” said Rebecca’s mother.
    “Yes, too plain,” agreed her mother-in-law.
    “But I like it,” Inés objected.
    “You like all of them,” Rebecca said.
    No one was convinced by the next several dresses either, although only Berta