It was Lori Kincaid, the soon-to-be mother-in-law, who finally spoke. “Josie,” she said, “you look lovely.”
And she did. The bride was a vision. The French Diamond ivory silk was perfect against her warm olive skin, the hand-pleated bodice accented her curves in just the right manner, the flowing train made it look as if she walked on clouds, and the painstakingly applied beads caught the light and shimmered like diamonds.
Her eyes glistened as she looked in the oval mirror, her hands lifting to cover her mouth. “Oh, Harlow, you did it! Loretta Mae said you could do it, and you did. It’s beautiful.” She looked renewed, as if a light suddenly shone from inside her. “I feel like . . . like . . . like anything is possible.”
Mama’s hand squeezed my shoulder, and Gracie squeezed my hand. My own eyes pricked. From the looks on the bridesmaids’ faces, they were experiencing the same thing.
Chapter 46
Several hours later, the fittings were over and all the dresses, with the exception of Miriam’s and Holly’s, which still needed tailoring, had been pressed and delivered. I still had a long night ahead of me, but I took a break, sipping lemonade with Mama and Nana at Meemaw’s kitchen table. “My charm,” I announced, my nerves zinging like pinballs through my body. “My charm is my sewing. It’s being able to picture just what a person needs—or wants—and making it a reality.”
Mama nodded sagely. “I thought as much.”
I looked past her at the fluttering curtains above the kitchen sink and smiled. Meemaw. “You did?”
“Loretta Mae dropped enough hints over the years,” Nana said. “Saying you were gifted with your hands and that you’d stitch people’s dreams together one day. The thing about the charms is that you have to discover them for yourself.”
“Looks like all those girls’ dreams are coming true, thanks to you,” Mama said.
She was right. Karen wanted to sparkle and have her husband notice her. I didn’t know for certain that he would, but if he didn’t, he was a fool. Ruthann wanted to feel beautiful on the inside, as well as on the outside. The confidence she exuded in the dress told me she did. Miriam wanted peace, I thought, and from the look on her face, she’d get there soon. As soon as I finished her dress.
And Josie . . .
“I thought Josie was going to cry when she walked in here,” Mama said, “but in that dress, she looked like a princess.”
The kitchen pipes moaned and it almost sounded as if they were saying the word “happy.” Satisfaction and pride filled me. “Happy,” I said, confirming Meemaw’s message.
“Yes,” Mama said. “She looked happy.”
“You did good, Harlow,” Nana said. “And let me tell you, stitching people’s dreams together is a whole lot better a charm than your mama’s or mine. Goat-whisperer. Pshaw,” she spat out. “That was Butch’s joke, if you ask me.”
Mama and I laughed. Nana loved her goats more than life itself. She was all piss and vinegar. And I was floating on air. For the first time since I’d been back home in Bliss, I, too, felt like anything was possible.
Chapter 47
By eleven o’clock the day of the wedding, I fully understood an old Texas saying Meemaw used to spout off: I felt older than two trees. It was just three hours until the ceremony. By the time it was over, I was sure I’d feel older than three trees. I’d stayed up late, adapting one of my off-the-rack Maximilian dresses for Holly and it had fit her perfectly. Only Miriam’s still wasn’t quite done.
I had had plenty of time while I sewed to think about the new information the sheriff had revealed. The father of Nell’s baby still seemed the most logical choice as the killer. He probably had the most to lose. But other than Nate, there were no potential daddies who’d been in Buttons & Bows, and the sheriff thought one of the people in my shop that day had stolen cording that had been used to strangle Nell. Problem with that was I still hadn’t found hide nor hair of a single piece of cording, braiding, or any other trim that would make that odd pattern on Nell’s neck.
I’d been so sure Nate was guilty that I hadn’t given much thought to any other possibilities, not really, but now... “You can let it go,” Will had said when he doctored my cuts a second time.
I’d pushed my glasses to the top of my head and rubbed my eyes. “But what if—”
“No what ifs. It doesn’t matter what Nate’s up to with the company. He didn’t have anything to do with Nell’s murder. He’s in the clear. You just need to finish the dresses. You didn’t promise Josie anything else.”
I realized he was right, of course, but sitting on the front porch with a piece of leftover fried chicken, courtesy of Nana, and a glass of ice-cold lemonade, I couldn’t stop worrying that Josie was stepping into a hornet’s nest and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get stung, but bad.
I looked at my watch. 11:15. Two hours, forty-five minutes. Finally, the gate in the arbor creaked open and Miriam trudged through, the glimpse of peace she’d shown yesterday all but gone. Now she looked as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Dark circles and the Dallas Cowboys ball cap on her head spoke loud and clear. She’d gotten less sleep than I had, not a good look for the maid of honor of the biggest social event Hood County had seen in a dozen years.
The latch reengaged with a loud click. “Hey,” I called, waving the chicken leg I’d just taken a bite of.
“Hi,” she said absently, glancing at the spot amid the bluebonnets where Nell had been found.
“Isn’t it hard looking at the yard, knowing someone died right there?” she asked as she came up the porch steps. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to look at it the same way?”
I’d asked myself that very question a hundred times since that night. “Hard” didn’t even begin to describe the spectrum of emotions I had experienced. “No, I don’t think I will,” I said, putting the chicken down, my appetite gone.
She needed to get into her dress, anyway. I still had a few things to finish, but until she tried it on, I couldn’t wrap it up.
Just as I started to stand up, she sat in the chair next to me. “We should get started,” I said, but then I lowered myself back down.
She rocked slowly, to and fro, to and fro, lost in her thoughts. “I used to think death was about the person dying and how they felt,” she said after a stretch of silence.
I settled against the back of the chair and fell into rhythm with her. “And now?”
“Now I think it’s more about the people left behind. I think if you believe there’s something more than what’s here, the moment death comes, you’ll be at peace. But it’s the rest of us, the ones left behind who have to deal with our grief . . . That’s the hard part. Will I ever be able to forget her?”
What an odd question. I hoped I made a big enough mark on the world and the people in my life that they’d take joy in remembering me. “Do you want to forget her?”
Her only answer for a few seconds was the creaking of her chair. “No.”
“The fact that she was in our lives means that she had an impact on us. Even on me, and I barely knew her.” Her gaze stayed glued to the thatch of bluebonnets. “I’m going to put a fountain there,” I said. “In memory of Nell.”
She nodded, fighting the tears glistening in her eyes. “That’ll . . . that’ll be real nice,” she said.
Will had told me to leave it alone, but one thing had been bothering me since meeting with the sheriff. I hadn’t been able to get her alone during the final bridesmaid fitting, but now was my chance. “Miriam, when did your dad get back home?”