The Bride's Curse (8 page)

There was so much more he wanted to ask her about: the aftereffects of her wound, the hallucinations, how it affected the rest of her life. Darn it, he didn’t even know if she had a significant other and here he was, daydreaming that they were so much more to each other than they could possibly be on such a short acquaintance.

What turmoil she’d thrown him into. What did she mean by “to see a man who isn’t there”? And he still hadn’t found out for sure whether she had Mary’s wedding dress …

Brett smiled. Kelly Andrews was unlike any other woman he’d known. And he really was a guy who liked a challenge.

Weird as it might sound, the fainting and flashback episode seemed to have cleared Kelly’s brain. She was energized and determined to clear up the twin mysteries that had appeared so suddenly in her life—a cursed wedding dress and a restless, enigmatic spirit.

And possibly a third, in the delectable shape of Brett Atwell.

With a lightning flash illuminating the landscape of her mind, she realized the possibility that these weren’t separate mysteries but rather they might all be part of the same package. There was a link between the Old Man on the Bench and Brett Atwell—the Cursed Bridal Gown. The ghost did a quick disappearing act every time Brett appeared. But what was the link? Had Noelia somehow found that connection?

He was there again, the old man on the bench. Kelly flashed back to the moment the previous evening when she’d seen him waving to her from right in front of her home. A shudder passed through her. Had he been inside her house? Was this ghost an invisible presence in many private aspects of her life? And what, in the name of all that was good and sane, did he want with her?

Sure, she’d met other restless spirits, but it had been like brushing up against cobwebs. When she had awoken in the hospital, the fallen comrades around her bed had seemed real, substantial as in life. She thought that was perhaps because she had a strong connection to them in life. Since then the contacts had been nothing more than a slight, shivery experience, quickly glimpsed figures, barely intelligible words, and then over. So mild, it had been easy to convince herself that the doctors were right and she was hallucinating. She could dismiss the conversations she’d had with spectral people as figments of her damaged brain.

But this guy, well, he definitely wasn’t going to be put off so easily. Trying to ignore him brought about that awful flash of pain and fear that transported her back to that terrible time in the desert.

She averted her eyes, hoping against hope that wouldn’t prompt another shard of pain to slice through her head, and hurried into the store after Noelia.

Her assistant was waiting for her by the walnut cupboard they used as a counter. With the flourish worthy of a master magician, Noelia pulled out a vintage white beaded bag shrouded in tissue paper. “Do you remember this?”

Kelly shook her head. It was familiar, but they had handled dozens of these vintage bride’s purses. Why would she remember this one specifically?

“This came in the same box as that gown. You know—
that gown
.” Noelia gave a little shudder as if she couldn’t bring herself to use the nickname they had given the Cursed Bridal Gown. “Somehow it got separated and not entered into the book with the dress. And do you know what I found inside?”

Kelly shook her head again, mesmerized by the show Noelia was putting on.

“Ta-da!” The older woman pulled out a yellowed slip of paper. “This, my dear, is a receipt from a very well-known Parisian design house, dated 1972, and made out to Miss Mary Atwell. No street address, just Derry, Maine. I think we may have found the original owner of the dress. ”

“Yes,” said Kelly, still not seeing where this was going. “The sale I attended was at an auction house in Derry, and Brett’s last name is Atwell as well. He said he got my name from his sister, who was selling off things belonging to his aunt Mary. It definitely fits.”

“We have to find out more about this Mary Atwell, and find out why she cursed the dress!” Noelia said.

Kelly stared at her. “Why would you assume she was the one who cursed the dress?”

“Just a hunch. But even if she didn’t, she must know who did, and why. It was her wedding dress, after all.”

“All right,” Kelly said, playing along. “But then why would
we
need to know that information? The dress has been sold. Daria Welcome is wearing it to her wedding. It’s not our problem anymore.”

“It is our problem, because it still remains to be seen if Daria’s wedding will actually happen. Business has already dropped because of the rumors surrounding that dress, regardless of the fact that it’s been sold. Imagine if it were returned a fourth time. We’d be doomed. We have to find out more about the dress from Mary Atwell, and find a way to end the curse for good.”

Now that Kelly knew there was a ghost in town, and said ghost was asking about the cursed dress, she had to admit she was starting to see Noelia’s point. “But I can’t question Brett about his aunt
or
the dress. Not without raising all sorts of questions. I haven’t even said for sure that we have the dress he’s looking for. He wants the gown back for her and I don’t see Daria Welcome giving it back. I really don’t know what to do.”

The other reason she didn’t want to ask Brett about Mary was that she’d have to explain to him why she was interested in his aunt. And that meant not only explaining the theory of the curse, which would be bad enough, but what about the ghost angle? What on earth could the connection be between a fifty-year-old wedding dress with a bad reputation and an incredibly irritating ghost who was asking questions about that same dress? Somehow the idea of telling Brett about the recent appearance of a ghost in her life, and how she suspected a connection between the ghost and all the troubles the gown had brought, both amused and embarrassed her. She didn’t think their relationship was ready for a trip into the spirit world yet. And what if she was wrong? She doubted if a man like Brett Atwell was given to flights of fancy—or tolerant of those who were. She didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him.

“Or we could just forget the whole thing. I’ll tell Brett I don’t have the dress and I can’t give out the name of the client who bought it. End of story.” She looked hopefully at Noelia.

The older woman scowled. “You know you can’t shirk your responsibilities like that. What about Daria? What if that dreadful Cursed Wedding Gown wrecks her happily ever after plans, too?”

Kelly sighed. Trust Noelia to take the moral high ground. “Are you sure we couldn’t … ?”

“Absolutely not! However, there are other ways to get information that might help answer the questions about the dress’s history,” Noelia said. “Now, we—or rather you—must go to the newspaper files and see if you can find out anything about Mary Atwell. She must have been a pretty well off lady or from a rich family, to be getting a gown like this for her wedding, even in the seventies. She would have had the kind of wedding that would be in the society pages if you go back to l972. If there are pictures you’ll be able to tell if the dress we sold Daria really is the dress Brett’s aunt wants. If it’s not, then you can just tell him that and everything will be fine. ”

“Except that the dress is still rumored to be cursed because of what happened with the other three brides.” Kelly sighed. She couldn’t think of anything she fancied less than a day in the basement newspaper “morgue” going through musty old editions of the
Telegraph
. Or worse, driving into Derry and searching through the local paper there.

Actually, there was something worse—going out and sitting on that bench with her invisible ghost friend and finding out what he needed to make him go away. But it had to be done. She sighed again.

“I can tell you’re not inspired by the task I’ve set you, so I’m going to sweeten the deal with a nice cup of coffee and a couple of chocolate digestive cookies,” Noelia said, placing a tray on the small table between them. “Of course, coffee making would be even better and quicker if we had one of those fancy new coffee machines.”

“Not in the budget, especially with all the lost sales,” Kelly retorted.

“And if you—we—solve the problem?”

“Then I promise you a trip to the store to choose a machine with all the bells and whistles.”

“Deal.” Noelia grinned triumphantly. “Are you going to the newspaper morgue? Let’s get closer to working this out.”

“First I have to deal with something I’ve been putting off for too long. Should be back soon if all goes well,” Kelly said. Grabbing her sweater off the hook near the door, she turned back. “Oh, Noelia? If you see me sitting on the bench over there looking like I’m talking to myself … ”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll just assume you’re talking to the imaginary friend you have there. I really do think you should get out more. Maybe that sexy hunk Brett will help you?”

With a snort of disgust, Kelly flounced out from the store and headed across the road. She hated it when Noelia could see right through her. She was pretty sure her assistant had known that Brett sent delicious shivers of lust shimmering through her boss, long before Kelly herself was ready to accept it.

The restless spirit was still sitting there, although he looked paler than ever.
If this keeps up, he won’t be visible at all.
That idea should have pleased her until she thought about having an invisible grumpy old ghost wandering around, possibly in her private space, never being able to see where he was. She shuddered.

“I was going to bring you a coffee but the last time I did that I ended up spilling it all over my shirt. Besides, ghosts can’t drink coffee.”

“Don’t be cruel. Have you any idea what I’d give for a sip of coffee? Even that dishwater brew that comes from that ancient machine of yours … and, oh, my heavens, a sip of good French wine … ”

“Well, maybe you could get out of my imagination and go somewhere where you can enjoy these delights.” Kelly took a deep drink of her coffee and smacked her lips theatrically.

The ghost snorted. “At least you’ve figured out what I am. Now you need to learn who I am.”

“Mostly, I need to know what the hell I have to do to get you to go away and bother someone else.”

“There aren’t many people who can see us.”

“Us?” Kelly looked around the street and the park behind them in dismay. “There are more of you?” She imagined whole lineups of restless spirits waiting their turn for a chat, making demands she couldn’t possibly fulfill …

As if he could read her mind—he was a ghost, he probably could—the old guy said: “Don’t worry, I’m the only one here at the moment. You and I have a connection.”

Confusion reigned. “You do realize I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about? What connection could we possibly have?”

A sound like a sob echoed rustily from the spirit. Kelly saw a tiny drop of moisture on the bench and wondered if it were possible for ghosts to cry. And what could she do? She could hardly pat him on the shoulder or offer a hug. Her hands would probably pass right through him.

And it was bad enough to appear to be talking to herself on this bench. Whatever would people think if they heard her making soothing sounds and saw her patting and hugging apparently thin air? Things were bad enough as it was. She waited him out.

“I told you I did something awful. I made two people very unhappy and I need to put it right before … before … whatever comes next. Find them for me, tell them I’m sorry … ask their forgiveness and I’ll be gone.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Do you have any idea what you’re … ?” Kelly cried, but it was too late. The spirit was gone and all her outburst had brought was worried looks from two women passing by on the other side of the street.

“That’s the girl from the wedding shop,” one of them said, ducking her head in Kelly’s direction.

“Maybe it’s all that stuff about the wedding dress that’s cursed, driving her nuts,” her friend replied. Neither woman made even the slightest attempt to keep their voices down.

“Well, wouldn’t you be a little nuts if you’d supplied a wedding dress and three couples had broken up because of it? It’s a curse and she should do something about it.”

What am I supposed to do?
Kelly wanted to yell at them. But the women were right. Buying that wedding dress seemed to be a surefire way to ruin any dewy-eyed bride’s dreams of happily ever after.

And despite the fact that her own fiancé had waited until they were almost ready to walk down the aisle before he ended their relationship, Kelly still believed in happily ever after.

At least, for other women.

• • •

It had been a long and frustrating day. Kelly took a glass of wine out onto the deck at the rear of her home. Sullivan the cat followed her out and jumped up into her lap, rubbing his battle scarred ears against her chin in a rare show of affection.

She absently stroked his soft, gray fur. “Did you miss me today, Sullivan?” He pinned her with his impossibly green eyes. “I’m sorry. I have to go to work, otherwise there’d be no expensive kitty cat food for you.” She bent her head and kissed his whiskered nose. The cat shook his head in disdain and hopped off her lap to go and settle underneath the birdfeeder. From there he watched longingly as some feathered stragglers swooped in for a late supper.

She couldn’t help but think back to her conversation over dinner with Brett Atwell. She’d never been so open about her hopes and dreams with anyone until that evening. How long had she been in town now? she asked herself. It seemed like forever. The very first day she arrived, before she had even unpacked, she’d walked along Main Street and the public pier, munched on a snack from one of the food stalls there, and promised herself that if she ever was rich enough, she’d have a little boat of her own and spend time relaxing on the soothing water. Until then she’d definitely take a tourist cruise several times during the summer, just to get the feel of it.

Yet she had never been on a tour cruise even once. Time spun by, seemingly out of control. There was always something that needed doing for the business, or paperwork connected with Wedding Bliss or taxes, or to her army days and the injured compensation benefits she was entitled to receive.