I sighed, relieved, knowing that my charm was working its magic with Miriam. She wanted peace. That’s what I’d given her. Whatever happened, it would all be okay for her. I hoped.
By the time she left, Mama and I had less than thirty minutes to make ourselves presentable for the wedding. “I’ll see you there,” she said, hurrying out the door to get herself ready. I took the stairs two at a time, speeding through a shower in record time, pulling my wild hair into a slightly less wild updo, and shimmying into my all-time-favorite shapewear slip.
With no time to deliberate, I chose the first dress I saw in my closet, an off-the-rack navy-and-white number that looked a little like the outfit Debbie Reynolds wore in Singin’ in the Rain. I grabbed hold of the hanger, but instead of coming off the closet rod, it didn’t budge. “What the—” I tried again. Stuck like glue.
It didn’t take long to realize why. “Meemaw! I don’t have time for this.”
Just like before the Kincaid Family Foundation gala, the clothes in my closet suddenly slid back and forth along the rod. It felt like we were on a rocking ship, the clothes sliding to the right as the boat tipped to starboard, crashing to the left as it lurched to port.
I lunged, reaching into the fray, trying to grab hold of a dress. Any dress. The wedding was going to start in twenty minutes! But each time I almost got hold of one, thinking I’d won the battle, the hullabaloo in the closet snowballed and I was forced to stagger back. “Loretta Mae Cassidy,” I said, stomping my bare foot on the cool hardwood floor. “Are you trying to make me late?”
The chaos in the closet stopped, but of course there was no answer. She made the pipes moan and fluttered curtains when it suited her, not when it suited me. But a chiffon floral print dress, courtesy of a Maximilian surplus sale, slipped off its hanger and fell to the floor.
I was too tired to think, anyway, so I grabbed it and slipped it over my head. It had a five-inch empire waist with black accent trim, a faux halter top where the fabric actually draped down the center of the back and reconnected with the waist, and a full skirt. Large lavender, pink, and cream flowers were complemented by touches of coral, green, and a lot of dark gray for contrast. The instant I zipped up the back, I felt flirty and feminine and wondered why I’d never worn it.
I adhered to Heidi Klum’s general philosophy of a garment accentuating either boobs or legs, but not both. I took a quick look in the mirror. The flirty dress hit my legs at midcalf, floating over my hips, long enough to cover the scrapes and cuts still visible on my legs, and while the V neck wasn’t deep, it did just enough to accent my 36Bs.
As I slipped on a pair of strappy lavender sandals, my mind processed everything Miriam had told me. It was so much easier to believe Derek could be responsible, but something about it didn’t feel right. It felt like part of the story was still missing.
I headed for the stairs, stopping short and bolting back to my dresser. I’d wrapped the little velvet jewelry bag in the stack of napkins I’d taken from Seed-n-Bead and had hidden it in my lingerie drawer the night before, but something in my gut told me I shouldn’t let it out of my sight. I grabbed the whole wad, shoved it in my purse, and raced for the hallway. My heels clicked as I hurried down the stairs. I really was late now. Why hadn’t I asked Mama to come pick me up? Why hadn’t I had the battery replaced in Meemaw’s old truck? Without a car, I’d have to walk. I grabbed the doorknob, yanked the door open, and bolted . . . “Oof!” . . . right into someone’s chest.
“Whoa. You’ve really got to be more careful,” a playful male voice said, gripping my shoulders, pushing me back slightly. I caught glimpses of a black jacket and slacks, white dress shirt, and solid, faintly metallic forest green tie. A shiver swept over my skin as I looked into the face of the dashing man darkening my doorstep.
Mercy.
“It’s my door,” I quipped, shocked at the flirtatious note in my voice.
“That it is. I thought—” Will stopped in midsentence as he got a good look at me, then let loose a low whistle. “Wow. You look . . . That’s a . . . I mean, wow. You look . . . stunning.”
The heat of his Rhett Butler accent made my heart give a little pitter-patter.
“I thought you might need a ride,” he said.
Aha, now I understood the drama in my bedroom. Meemaw had wanted to keep me here, though how she’d known Will was coming by was a mystery. The ceremony was set to start in two minutes. I grabbed my clutch and slammed the door behind me. “I’d love a ride.”
I tapped my foot impatiently as he got behind the wheel. The Catholic church was only a few blocks away, but it felt like hours. “Where’s Gracie?” I asked when I realized we were alone.
“She wanted to be there early to help Holly with the flower girl bit.” He bit his lip like he was keeping a secret.
I smiled, the coil of nerves in my stomach untwining a bit. “What?”
“Miriam dropped the sewing machine off after the funeral. Gracie’s been staying up late every night working. You’ve inspired her.”
I swelled with pride. “Really? What’s she making? Is she using a pattern? Tell me everything!”
“Whoa. I have no idea. She dragged the bins into her room and went to town. As long as she’s not working on her own wedding gown, we’re good. I want her thinking about graduating from high school and college, not white dresses and veils.”
“Good plan.”
Not a soul was in sight as we pulled up to the church. No surprise there, since the ceremony was probably already starting. We hurried through the double doors into the vestibule. “There you are! Where have you been? Never mind!” Ruthann grabbed me by the arm, wrenching me away from Will’s side. “We need your help. The veil Josie got was supposed to go with her first dress. It doesn’t work with this one!”
The veil! We hadn’t tried it on with the dress yesterday. I kicked myself at the oversight.
I threw an apologetic look over my shoulder at Will as Ruthann hauled me off. He lifted his hand in a motionless wave. Maybe it was my imagination, but he looked disappointed.
Ruthann dragged me into the bridal room off the side of the vestibule. Karen and her husband stood just outside the doorway. She looked beautiful in her dress, glowing with a confidence I hadn’t seen in her up till now. She gave Ted a dreamy smile, which he returned with a kiss. Score one for dreams coming true.
He headed off to the sanctuary and Karen followed me into the room. Talk about bedlam. The room looked like a tornado had spun out of control, destroying everything in its path, except Josie. She stood smack in the center of the room, the skirt of her gown fanned out around her, looking serene amid the chaos.
“She’s here!” Ruthann announced.
I tossed my clutch aside as Miriam handed me the veil. We locked eyes for just a minute, silent encouragement passing between us.
Josie’s gown, with its silk and pleats and hand beading, was classic and ethereal. The veil was poufy and looked like it belonged with a prairie wedding dress.
I set to work reconstructing it, clearing out a space on the floor and laying it down. “Scissors,” I said, like a surgeon requesting a scalpel.
Someone immediately put a pair in my hand. I cut the tulle to elbow length, removing the second layer. I cleaned up the edges and stood. “Bobby pins.”
The bridesmaids were like highly trained OR nurses. Bobby pins magically appeared in my hand. I spun Josie around. Her hair was pulled back into a doughnut-sized bun, wispy strands of loose hair framing her face. I pinned the veil underneath the mound of hair on the back of her head, letting it cascade artfully down her back.