The Secret Wedding Dress (15 page)

Joel could tell when she gave in to the futility of fighting the inevitable tonight. Maybe because he’d already reached the same conclusion during Nan Shea’s earlier onslaught.

“You remember the men who came to rebuild our fence the other day? One of them is Grant Hopewell, Dory’s husband. He’ll be folding and stacking chairs on those rolling carts lined up out in the hall. You can give him a hand. But please keep it low-key. I’d rather not make it too obvious that I came with one man, and I’m leaving with another. You have no idea what wagging tongues in this town can do with a juicy tidbit like that.”

“Isn’t this much ado about nothing?”

“Ha! You’ll wish. Joel, I’ve lived here forever. I’ve planned weddings for couples who had no intention of ever marrying. Not until a group I call the marriage vigilantes set its sights on them and got into high gear. You have to see them in action to believe it, Joel. Or better yet…not.”

His skepticism might as well have been flashed in skywriting on the ceiling.

“Joel, trust me, you
don’t
want to fall into their clutches. And my mom and sisters are their most dedicated members.”

He was left pondering her dire warning as he hoisted his beer.

Rob Shea drained his bottle. “Time to mosey back for the grand finale,” the older man lamented. “The part I like best about these shindigs is the champagne and the cake. Our bakery
does about as good a wedding cake as I’ve ever tasted. Bad thing about Nan doing the serving is that I won’t get to swipe a second slice. Listen, son, I heard part of what Sylvie said. I love that girl to distraction. She is, after all, my first-born. And I guess you’d know there’s something extra-special about a man’s first daughter. Honestly, I tell you she’s obsessed with this idea that the town’s out to see her hitched.”

Joel nodded. “So, sir, you’re saying there’s nothing to her concern? You know for certain that your wife and other daughters, for instance, aren’t trying to find Sylvie a husband?”

Rob pursed his lips. “Well, I tell them all that just because Sylvie fell in love with weddings from the time she was knee-high to a toadstool, it doesn’t mean she’s dying to have one of her own.”

“You’d know her better than I do on that score. From what I’ve seen in a very short time, that seems to be true. Although, I have the impression that most women would rather be married than single.” That observation was pretty much the cornerstone for his comic strip. And it’d held up through most of his research in Atlanta’s singles gathering spots.

“Son, take it from a man who’s lived in a household full of females for a good long while. Every time I’m sure I’ve figured out that something or other is common to most women—one of the women in my family proves me dead wrong.”

Rob looked so perplexed, Joel laughed. “It’s good talking to you, sir. Since I’m raising a daughter by myself, I’ll store your advice for the future. Rianne’s only six. But I’ve already seen that her favorite
anything
today will be the bane of her existence next week.”

The older man smiled. “Well, if you ever need a sounding board, I’m a good listener. So was my dad, bless his soul. He used to take me fishing and let me ramble.”

His reference to fishing sent Joel’s mind straight to his outing with Rob’s eldest daughter. Joel couldn’t help recalling how Sylvie’s wet skin had shone pearly white in the afternoon
sun. He remembered again how affected he’d been by her long legs straddling his hips. Joel’s mind stalled there, then shut down totally. As if they were acting on their own, his eyes sought her out at the front of the room.

If he’d thought that seeing her amid the wedding trappings would douse the fire licking along his veins, he was very much in error. The flames beat higher. In the pulse at his throat. In his wrists and groin. Joel very much hoped Sylvie had willpower enough for them both. One of them needed to resist these feelings that were overtaking him.

After Rob said he’d be in touch about the festival, Joel wove his way to the children’s table, where Rianne now sat alone. He saw the other kids had crowded up to the cake table, to witness the cutting of the cake.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, snooks. I’ll wait here if you’d like to join your friends.”

The happy hug she bestowed on him served to remind Joel that he wasn’t in any position to be fantasizing about a woman. Any woman.

Quietly, he sat back and watched the crowd. He accepted the champagne an unfamiliar woman poured him. The mood that had come over him passed and Joel began to focus again on eavesdropping, picking up comments and observations to incorporate in his comic strip.

It was during
the cleanup after the reception that Joel overheard yet another person alluding to Sylvie’s secret dress. One of the bridesmaids, perhaps the youngest in the party, trailed after Dory, talking incessantly. “Brian had a great time at Kay’s wedding. We danced every single dance. I feel in my bones he’s
this
close to giving me a ring, Dory.” Swaying dreamily, the girl held her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.

Joel took his time stacking chairs. His ears perked up much the same way Oscar’s did when humans entered his sphere. The bridesmaid—Joel thought her name was Tracie—reverently brought up
the
dress. She placed the emphasis on
the,
as if only one dress was worthy of such distinction.

Dory continued to fold table linens and pile them on a table. Very close to where Joel closed and stacked chairs.

“Tracie, take it from me,” Dory said. “Order a book of bridal patterns and choose one you love. Sylvie refused to sell Kay
the
gown, and you know they’ve been best friends forever.”

“You’ve seen
the
dress, right? Is it as magnificent as we’ve all heard? A regular Cinderella ball gown?”

Dory snatched the last pink tablecloth out of dreamy-eyed Tracie’s hands. “No one’s actually seen the dress, Tracie. But anytime Sylvie wants to avoid doing something Carline and I try to get her to do, she claims to be busy sewing. Even when she’s between weddings. So what would
you
think?”

“Somebody
we both know well, but who shall remain nameless, got her nose out of joint because Sylvie said she couldn’t buy
the
dress. She’s spreading rumors in our crowd that perhaps it doesn’t exist.”

“Ridiculous! I’ve seen the dress form. She keeps it covered.” Packing the last tablecloth in the box, Dory paused to put on the lid. Joel noted her irritated expression. “I can guess who you mean, Tracie,” Dory said huffily. “I can guarantee that every dress Sylvie makes is gorgeous. Why fuss over one she’s saving for herself?”

“Personally I think it’d be hilarious if there was no dress. Like, what if when Sylvie came home from New York and everybody was whispering that she’d failed or that some guy broke her heart—what if she invented this whole PR strategy around an invented dress? Can you think of a better way to entice customers? It’s called applied economics. Mention one-of-a-kind, or for that matter any commodity in short supply, and people line up for blocks hoping to be the one who’ll end up possessing whatever it is.”

Joel set the fourth of four chairs he’d hauled across the room on the rolling cart, having missed part of that conversation while he was gone. He admitted to being disappointed when the two women finished folding linens and moved on to another chore.

The notion of a Cinderella gown intrigued him. The possibility that this gown might be a fraud, a lie, fascinated him even more. Something like that would add a great twist to the Magnolia plotline. He imagined Magnolia as an expert seam-stress—sort of like Sylvie. But not
exactly
like her. That had the potential to cause problems. But—wouldn’t it be a hoot to have his character drag a wedding dress to Atlanta? Have wedding dress, will travel to locate a groom. Huh, he’d already decided Magnolia’s folks would rope cousins Poppy and Rose into this husband hunt. He’d planned to make Magnolia crafty enough to let everyone think she was playing
along—but really had no intention of falling in with their plans. But maybe if she had this secret wedding dress—or claimed to have it…His mind clicked through one idea after another.

Except for keeping tabs on Rianne as she played tag with Dory’s children in a near-empty room, Joel’s head remained in the clouds as he plotted. This was the part he loved most about working with comic-strip characters. He liked dreaming up funny but plausible situations, based on real life.

In the process he missed a lot that went on around him. Somehow he hadn’t realized that Sylvie had changed from her bridesmaid’s dress into jeans and a T-shirt until she broke into his trance. “Yo…Joel.” Sylvie snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’ve just about swept the finish off that linoleum square, “ she teased. “Are you asleep at the broom?”

“Wow—some metamorphosis from butterfly to caterpillar. Where’s your dress?”

“I always change after the reception. I’ll send the dress to the cleaners and when it comes back I’ll rip it apart and use the material for another project.”

“You only wear it once?”

“No one ever wears a bridesmaid’s dress after a wedding’s over. Other women can spot a bridesmaid’s dress from a mile away. Since I sew, I can at least reuse my fabric. Otherwise it gets costly to keep making fancy dresses.”

“I could see that if you were in a huge number of weddings. But how many can that be?”

Dory walked up in time to hear their exchange. “Ha! Ask her how many times she’s been a bridesmaid, Joel. A baker’s dozen,” she answered when Sylvie didn’t. “Carline and I say thirteen is unlucky. She should’ve turned Kay down. After all, Syl, you’ve been her maid of honor twice now.”

“Twelve, thirteen, what difference does it make? Honestly, Dory, you and Carline should get a life. You’re too superstitious.”

“So? If people say often enough that you’re always a
bridesmaid but never a bride, Sylvie, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Don’t roll your eyes at me, Sylvie Shea.”

“I didn’t roll them, I crossed them. Where’s your sense of humor?”

“I don’t have one when it comes to the way you create a touch-me-not aura that scares off unattached men.”

“I’m sure we can discuss this another time, Dory. I have to make a final sweep of the lodge and then lock up. Joel does not need to hear our bickering.”

He leaned on the broom handle, chin nestled in clasped hands, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “Actually, it’s fascinating. I’m an only child, so sibling rivalry is foreign to me. This is good stuff to know in case I ever provide Rianne with a little brother or sister.”

Dory’s head whipped around. “Then you have a fiancée, or at least someone you’re seriously dating?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Sylvie said, abruptly jerking the broom out of Joel’s hands.

At the same time, he said dazedly, “No, I’m speaking hypothetically.”

Too late, Joel saw the smug smile settle on Dory Hopewell’s face.

“Good night, Dory,” Sylvie interjected firmly, hooking her sister’s arm and dragging her a few feet away. “Thanks to you and Grant for helping clear the lodge. Joel and I will close up, and we’ll leave after I collect my dress, plus a couple of boxes of candles and stuff. And Rianne,” she added as the kids ran giggling past.

Now it was Dory who blinked in confusion. “I just noticed Buddy’s gone. Honestly, don’t tell me that little pipsqueak walked off and left you, Syl.”

“So you’re saying you
weren’t
party to our dear mother dismissing my date? She strong-armed Joel into serving as my chauffeur. I figured it was a conspiracy setup by the three of you. I’m actually relieved to discover that my sisters draw
a line somewhere in their insane attempt to throw me at any unsuspecting man who has the misfortune of setting foot in Briarwood.”

“Sylvie!” Dory burst out. “You’re giving Joel a false opinion of your family.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sylvie shot back. “I like Joel. He’s a nice man. He’s so nice, Dory, he can’t fathom the lengths to which my family is willing to go.”

“We love you, Syl,” Dory responded, spontaneously hugging Sylvie.

“I know.” Tears springing to her eyes, Sylvie accepted the gesture. “But, Dory, love means letting a sister muddle along on her own.”

“Even if you’re making a giant mistake? You’re missing out. You should be happily starting your own family,” Dory wailed, not releasing Sylvie as she tried to pull away.

“Even if,” Sylvie murmured.

Dory’s husband, who’d rounded up his son and daughter, sauntered over to where Joel stood apart from the women. “Are they making up after another sisterly spat?”

Nodding, Joel slid an arm around Rianne, who’d skipped up, vainly attempting to hide a yawn.

Grant extended a hand to Joel. “Grant Hopewell. I saw you leaning out your upstairs window the day I repaired the fence you share with my sister-in-law. Rob just told me he recruited you for our Labor Day baseball game. I hope you can play second base. It’s a key role against those heavy-hitting Baptists. If Jeff shows up at all, his mind won’t be on the game, but on Carline and the baby. He alternates between second base and shortstop. To tell you the truth, our infield’s pathetic. Outside of Jeff, we don’t have a player who can catch worth spit.”

“
Now
you tell me. I should’ve checked out the Baptists. So you’re saying, as ballplayers go, the Methodists stink? Your father-in-law wasn’t quite as forthright.”

“Well, we
have a lot of old geezers. They formed this team ages ago. The younger men can’t really kick them off. What can I say—other than that Methodists have incredible longevity?” He grinned. “I consider that a plus. And it
is
only a game.”

“But I sense that winning’s important.” A mischievous light entered Joel’s eyes. “Seeing how pious you all are, I doubt you’d consider bringing in a ringer.”

Grant glanced toward the women and drew Joel aside. “Who do you have in mind?”

“I’ve got a good friend, a former frat brother, who plays for the Atlanta Braves farm team.”

A schoolboy grin lit Grant Hopewell’s face. “Wouldn’t I love to pull that off.”

“Love to what?” Sylvie asked, walking up to the men. Her sister, too, walked over. Dory swung her son up into her arms.

“Oh, nothing,” Grant inserted quickly. “We were discussing the Labor Day weekend. I’ll get back to you, Joel, if I may?”

“Sure, no problem. I’m usually home day or night.”

Dory, who swayed with her sleepy son, smoothly asked, “So you work at home, Joel? What kind of work do you do?”

Rianne flung back her head. “Daddy draws pictures and puts them on the ‘puter,” she said, punctuating that statement with another huge yawn.

Because Joel didn’t want to get into the specifics, especially now, he lifted her into his arms. “Sorry to break this up, but it appears we’ve both got tired kids. Time to take them home. I’ve stayed far longer than I originally planned.”

“Mom’s fault,” Sylvie noted sourly. “But thanks, Joel. If you hadn’t stuck around, Grant and Dory would’ve had to drive out of their way to take me home. They live on the opposite side of town.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Joel said, lowering his voice because he saw that Rianne had already fallen asleep on his shoulder.

Talk fell off then. Grant hoisted Kendra into his arms, and the four adults shut off the lights. Dory and Grant didn’t
wait while Sylvie locked the building, but headed for their car immediately.

“They’re nice people,” Joel murmured, turning to Sylvie as they navigated the dark steps. “If I didn’t have my arms full, I’d offer to carry your dress and those two boxes. I hope they’re nowhere near as heavy as Rianne. She’s fifty pounds of dead weight when she zonks out like this.”

“I’ve draped the dress bag over one arm. And the boxes don’t weigh much at all. Rianne seemed to enjoy herself. I saw her with the Martin twins. Another time she was deep in conversation with Holly Johnson and her sister. They’re good kids. It’s lucky Rianne’s not shy.”

“No, she’s not that.” Joel uttered a chuckle that was half despair. “Her mother climbed all over me before we moved here. Lynn thinks kids should be seen and not heard.” Joel buckled Rianne into her booster and propped her head on a neck pillow before he gently closed the door. “Lynn, my ex, is a former foreign correspondent recently promoted to TV news anchor. The station threw her a party to celebrate. To make a long story short, she got mad at me for letting Rianne wear jeans to her party. She also said that I let her interact too freely with adults. But I didn’t happen to have any friends who had kids.”

Taking Sylvie’s load, Joel set her boxes on the floor by the middle row of seats, hung her dress on the hook, then held Sylvie’s door. He continued to speak after climbing in himself and starting the car. “You asked earlier why I changed my mind and came to the wedding of people I didn’t know. It’s because your sister said there’d be other kids. I want Rianne to make friends.”

“I had no right to take you to task.” Sylvie averted her eyes. “I just get so tired of everyone trying to fix me up. Here’s a good example—Mother sending my date home. I’m not upset. I’d rather ride with you than Buddy, but—”

“That’s a relief,” Joel cut in. “I’m afraid I agree with your
dad. Buddy’s a weird dude. Tell me he has another name. That his parents didn’t name him Buddy.”

“Jarvis the fourth.” Sylvie leaned back against the head-rest. “I feel sorry for Buddy. His mother is a control freak, and his dad thinks money fixes everything.”

“I guess that explains a lot,” Joel muttered. “He seems dedicated to his job. But if your dad’s right, he’s not all that good at it. Probably because he’s obnoxious.”

“I agree. Obnoxious
and
antisocial. I think that’s his real problem. But I can say for sure I’m not the person to rehabilitate Buddy.”

Joel tossed off a hearty laugh. So hearty, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see if he’d awakened Rianne. He hadn’t. “Out of curiosity, why did you agree to go out with such a jerk?”

Sylvie rolled her head toward Joel. “Carline caught me at a weak moment.”

“It appears you have a lot of those where your family’s concerned.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to give in.” She faced front again. “My family’s great, don’t get me wrong. Here I am, giving you a mistaken impression, just like Dory accused. They have this fatal flaw. They want everyone—friend or relative—to be half of a couple. A married couple.”

Joel debated asking the next question, but decided what the heck. “You’re against marriage? Isn’t that hard, given your business?”

“It’s a long story, and we’re too near home for me to go into it. Suffice it to say, I don’t want to date every unattached male they stumble across.”