The Secret Wedding Dress (21 page)

“Maybe it means she’s decided to back off,” he said. “Hey, looks like you’ve got company.” He pointed to a car pulling into Sylvie’s driveway.

A young woman Sylvie didn’t recognize exited the car and went to knock on her door.

“Just let me out here at the end of your lane,” Sylvie told Joel. “Maybe that’s Brandy Carmichael.”

He stopped and she got out of the van.

“Can I help you?” Sylvie called after a wave at Joel. “This is my house.”

“Uh, do I have the right place? I’m looking for Sylvie’s Bridal Creations.”

“That’s me. Are you Bettyanne’s daughter?”

“No. Melanie Fitzhugh. My older sister, Lacie, lives in Boston. She bought her wedding gown at a small boutique in New York City. I loved that gown so much, I phoned the shop to get the name of the designer. The owner said it was you
and told me you’d moved here. That seemed like a stroke of luck, since I live in Asheville.”

“I remember your sister. Her dress was the first one I ever sold to someone who wasn’t a friend or relative. But…I no longer design gowns. I have books of patterns, though, if you’d care to see them. I’d be happy to make the dress.”

Joel, who listened unabashedly at his car, found that news interesting. He noticed Sylvie didn’t mention her secret dress.
The infamous dress.

In spite of the young bride-to-be’s wheedling, Sylvie remained adamant. When the girl finally said she’d peruse the pattern books, Joel shut his car doors, took Rianne’s hand and they went in. He wondered if Sylvie and the girl ever came to an agreement. Not wanting Sylvie to know he’d eavesdropped, he never brought up the subject.

And as the days flew past, he forgot about the woman’s visit. Possibly because he’d decided he wanted the interior of the house painted before he opened his home to the parents of Rianne’s friends.

Sylvie got tied up, too, cutting and sewing gowns for Brandy Carmichael and Melanie Fitzhugh. Although a day rarely passed that she didn’t dream about Joel at night and think about him during the day.

It wasn’t until she turned the page on her desk calendar and saw the circled date that she realized Rianne’s party was the next day. She hadn’t bought a gift, nor had she asked Dory about games. In fact, most of the week she’d been out making calls in her Mutt Mobile. Having just come in, she showered and dashed out again to hit town before the stores closed. Her first stop was Carline’s shop.

“Wow, Carli, I think your baby’s expanded a lot since I saw you at the festival meeting last week. Does your doctor say it’s okay for you to be toting boxes and wrapping gifts for customers?”

“If I stay home, Sylvie, I’ll go nuts worrying whether or
not my delivery will go okay. I’m better off here—even Jeff says so. My part-timer is already working full-time, and she does all the heavy lifting. She ran down the block to get us milk shakes. That’s probably the extra weight you see,” Carline admitted wryly. “I crave one every day lately. Anyway, what brings you to town again? You were here this morning.”

“Tomorrow is Rianne Mercer’s birthday. She’ll be six. I need a gift.”

“A token she’s-my-neighbor kind of thing? I took some darling frilly hair clips on consignment. Circles of lace, dotted by tiny silk roses. A satin bow in the middle holds them together around the metal clip. They come in several colors.”

“Joel asked me to help with the party, Carline. So I’m thinking of something more than just hair clips.”

“When did all
this
happen? Do Mom and Dory know? I’m sure they don’t. I can’t believe they’d keep quiet if they knew.”

“Dory does know. And I’m only helping with games. Being neighborly.”

“Yeah—a role for a moms or potential stepmoms.”

“Carline, stop it. Do you want my business or not? I haven’t seen Joel or Rianne in over a week. This is a simple favor. One I’d do for anyone in town if they asked.”

Carline nodded sagely. “By the way, Kendra said Joel brought you and Rianne over to see Peg Wiley’s new pups. And you all went to breakfast together.”

“We did. So what?”

Carline leaned on the counter and grinned at Sylvie, who was extremely glad to see her sister’s employee return with their shakes.

Sylvie wandered around the store, lingering in the kids’ section. She found a pink-and-white jewelry box that, when opened, played a tune. A dainty ballet dancer popped up and twirled around. Sylvie loved the box. As she had it wrapped, she chose a card, and happened to see a book of children’s
games. She was so relieved. It meant she could skip putting herself through the same grilling or worse by phoning Dory.

That was wishful thinking on her part.

When she got home, the phone was ringing and she grabbed the receiver. “Hi, Mom. What can I do for you? If you’re calling to see if the prizes came for the festival, they have. So relax. My back room’s full of cartons.”

Her mother didn’t comment on the festival prizes. “I understand things are getting serious between you and Joel Mercer.”

“Carline told you, right? If she gave you that impression, then pregnancy is making her delusional.”

“Not ten minutes ago, she said you were in the store and spent thirty dollars on Rianne Mercer’s birthday gift. Dory already told me he asked you to host his daughter’s party.”

Sylvie closed her eyes and fell back against the wall. “I’m not hosting. This is the first birthday party he’s given for her, Mom. The poor guy’s in the dark when it comes to kids’ games. I offered to assist.”

“Well, that’s significant, because when it comes to kids’ games, you’re equally in the dark, Sylvie. Carline said you just bought a book of games.”

“I did. And do you want to know why? So I won’t have to ask Dory for ideas. And do you know why I don’t want to ask her? I’ll tell you. I knew she’d make a huge big deal of it and call you. After which you’d be on the phone giving me the third degree. And you
are
on the phone giving me the third degree. I thought better of Carline, the little beast. I rest my case.”

“Honey, I’m just so excited and happy for you. Dad and I both think Joel is such a nice man. And he plans to make Briarwood his permanent home.”

“Mo…th…er! I’m hanging up. Talk to my sisters all you want. Plot all you want. None of that’s going to make Joel and me fall in love. Goodbye.” Slamming down the phone, she slid her back down the wall until she sat cradling her head in her hands.

Sylvie
didn’t believe for one minute that yelling at her mom would end her family’s interference. They’d go right ahead planning Joel’s and her wedding. Forging ahead planning their lives. And she’d given him fair warning. Sylvie was oh, so tempted to sit back and watch him wriggle off the same hook both Grant and Jeff had found firmly implanted in their backsides not so long ago.

Sylvie’s
day began with a frantic phone call from Joel. “Help!” That was his greeting. “It’s Joel. I discovered by accident that my freezer quit. Who does repairs? And do you have freezer space for two big cartons of ice cream that’re getting softer by the minute?”

“I can probably fit two cartons in my chest freezer. Call Mullins Repair. Maybe Hank or his son can come out right away. What about meat and other perishables?”

“I didn’t have a lot stocked yet. I’ll put the ice cream in a plastic bag, and let Rianne run it over while I mop up. I walked barefoot through water, which is how I noticed the problem.”

“Okay, I’ll go meet her.” Sylvie said goodbye.

“Daddy’s saying bad words,” Rianne announced when she arrived on Sylvie’s doorstep. “He stayed up last night to make the house ship-shape for my party. ‘Cause he’s been painting walls all week. What’s ship-shape, Sylvie?”

“It means he wanted everything to look nice for when people come to your party. Is painting’s what’s kept you two so busy? I wondered, since I hadn’t seen either of you in days. You want to come in and make sure I have room for this?”

Rianne skipped along, following Sylvie out onto her porch to a chest-type freezer. “These cartons fit fine, Rianne. Your ice cream will be nice and firm by partytime.”

“Fluffy got sick on my bed yesterday. We hadda take her
to the vet. The vet said she might be ’llergic to the paint smell. So till the smell goes away, she has to stay on our back porch with the screen. She doesn’t like it.”

“Gosh, you and your dad have had some week. Other than storing ice cream, what can I do? Fluffy’s welcome to stay with me for a few days.”

“I’ll tell Daddy. He’s worried Fluffy might run away if one of the kids accidentally let her out. Sylvie, will you braid my hair for my party? I’m wearing the dress Daddy bought me for the wedding. I wanted to wear one I had in Atlanta, but it’s too short. Daddy said I grew a foot since we moved. He didn’t say my foot or his and his is way bigger.”

Sylvie smiled. “I’ve got a surprise you might want now. I worked hard this week, too, and I made you two dresses. I need you to try them on so I’ll know where to run hems. If you’d like to wear the fancy one today, I’ll hem it now. It’s okay, though, if you’d still prefer to wear your other one. It’s very pretty.”

Rianne fell madly in love with the flocked pink dress. The other was a school jumper, but she could hardly stand still long enough for Sylvie to pin the hem on the pink party dress, which she’d put on first.

“If you were my mommy, Sylvie, you could make me new dresses all the time. Kendra said you sew her pretty clothes even when it’s not her birthday or Christmas.”

“I like to sew. Some people don’t. I’m sure your mom does other nice things for you, Rianne. Honey, can you stand? I don’t want to stick you with one of these pins.”

“Daddy doesn’t know I heard him talking to Mama this morning on the phone. He yelled, ‘cause he said it’s the second time she forgot my birthday. I don’t ‘member the other. Should I tell him it’s okay? Last year she sent a dorky coat and hat that’s still too big for me.”

A heaviness invaded Sylvie’s chest. How could a mother forget the day her child was born? Her phone rang, jarring
Sylvie out of her sadness. “Stand there for a minute while I see who’s calling. Then I’ll take this off you, and we’ll fit the jumper.”

It was Joel. “Is Rianne still there bugging you? I told her to come straight home.”

“It’s my fault. I’m having her try on a couple of dresses I made, Joel. Do you need her now? She wants to wear one of them at her party, and I thought she could wait while I hemmed it. I already have that color thread on my blind stitcher.”

“You made her dresses? Sylvie, that’s…well, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s really nothing, Joel. I had the fabric left over from some wedding or other. She also mentioned trying on a dress that’s too short. If it fits her otherwise, maybe I can figure out a way to let down the hem and sew lace over the old hem mark.”

“We have a box full that are too short. She seems to have shot up, but not out.”

Sylvie laughed. “Kids do that. Can you bring the box over? While she’s in the mood to try things on, we may as well fit those. Oh, I hear Fluffy’s under the weather. If you like, I’ll keep her until your paint odor dissipates. That’s weird about her being allergic. Although people have allergies, so why not pets?”

“I’ll take you up on both offers. Besides, I’ve missed seeing you this week.” His voice dropped and grew husky. “Every once in a while, I noticed you dashing in and out, but I was usually on a ladder with a paint roller in hand.”

“I’ve been busy, too. Sewing. I can’t wait to see the changes to Iva’s house,” she said, feeling the rise of a flush. “Oops,
your
house.”

“I still think of it as hers, too. If you have coffee made, I’ll be right over. Otherwise, I’ll fix some here first. I got hold of Hank Mullins, by the way. He’ll try to be here by noon. He didn’t give me much hope—said when these new freezers die, that’s it.”

“He’ll be reasonable if you have to buy a new one. A lot
of people are going to Asheville to buy appliances, and his business is barely surviving. I wish people would support our local merchants.”

“Okay, I’m sold, Miss Briarwood Chamber of Commerce advocate.”

“I did sound preachy, didn’t I? About that coffee, Joel. I still have some.”

“See you in a few minutes,” he said, and hung up.

“Your dad’s bringing over the dresses that are too short for you. I’ll see if I can add some length so you don’t have to toss them out.”

Rianne impulsively flung her arms around Sylvie. And the unexpectedness of the gesture left Sylvie recalling Carline’s remark about motherhood passing her by. Would it? she wondered. She’d like a child of her own. The tight feeling in her chest came back.

Joel arrived with the dresses and Fluffy. Sylvie settled the cat before she poured Joel coffee, then set to work checking dresses. She discussed ways to fix them with Rianne while Joel wandered around the room, scrutinizing her family photos.

“You look a lot like your mom.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I think Mom’s very pretty.”

“She is. I meant it as a compliment. These pictures are great. I should dig around and find some I have of Rianne and get them framed. Seeing yours, I realize I haven’t been good about keeping up with photos. I wonder if there’s any place in town that sells disposable cameras. I should take pictures at Rianne’s party today.”

“I have film in my camera, Joel. I don’t mind taking charge of photos
and
games. The games are easy, and you’re not having that many kids.”

“Let Sylvie take pictures, Daddy. You cut off people’s heads.”

Joel grinned sheepishly. “She’s right. You’re going to start thinking it’s a miracle Rianne’s managed to survive my parenting this long.”

“Not
so.” Sylvie cut the threads and shook out the finished pink dress. “There, Rianne. Oh, hey, Hank’s pulling in your lane, Joel. He’s early. Take the mug with you. I promised Rianne I’d braid her hair for the party.”

“You can come earlier and provide moral support.” Joel surprised her by dropping a kiss on her lips before he headed for the door.

“What was that for?”

“It’s because I thought about kissing you all week. That reminds me—Dory phoned. She and the Martins are sharing a baby-sitter at Dory’s house Saturday night, for the street dance. She suggested Rianne come over for the night.”

Sylvie walked him to the door. Rianne again skipped on ahead, so Sylvie said, “Joel, Dory’s so obviously setting us up for another night together.”

“Yeah. If you want the truth, I’m counting the hours. Let’s
not
watch a movie this time.” Grinning cheekily, he loped off then, without giving her a chance to respond.

Sylvie thought she ought to tell him about her mom’s last phone call. She would’ve followed him out, but a shiver of anticipation shot through her at the prospect he’d broached.

Party time came. Sylvie, who’d shown up an hour early, retreated to the kitchen when the doorbell announced the first guest. She intended to stay in the background, and would have managed fine had Nan Shea not bustled in with Dory and Kendra. Nan barged straight into the kitchen, catching Sylvie off guard as she misted a window ledge filled with sad-looking African violets. “Mother,” she gasped. “Why are
you
here?”

Nan popped a large dish of whipped Jell-O into Joel’s fridge. “I’ve come for the party. Where else would an adopted grandmother be today? Sylvie, you heard Rianne ask to call me Grandma Nan. A nincompoop can see that poor girl is starved for extended family. Here, let me take over kitchen duty. You go on out and help Joel run the party.”

“He
doesn’t need my help.” Sylvie dumped the faded blooms she’d picked off into a garbage can under the sink.

“Quit pouting, and don’t forget your camera. He said to send you out, that you’re taking photos. Anyway, I can see how things are—how familiar you are with his kitchen.” Nan yanked the misting wand out of Sylvie’s hand and replaced it with the camera. She gave her daughter a push toward the door. “I hope you plan to have your hair cut before the festival.”

Rather than waste her breath saying she knew the house because of time spent with Iva Whitaker, Sylvie shouldered her way out the louvered doors. Later, she’d have to admit that Rianne and Joel, too, seemed to enjoy having her mother serve as faux-grandmother.

And Nan’s gift couldn’t be beat. Rob Shea had made Rianne a wooden kitchen set. Child-size, to fit a playhouse. Shortly after Rianne had flung her arms around Nan, exclaiming over and over how much she loved the sink and fridge and stove, Nan pulled Joel aside. “Last year Rob made Kendra a darling playhouse. He still has the plans. You’ve got loads of space in your backyard. All the kids love Kendra’s house.”

“I’ll talk to Rob next week. That sounds like a project I’d like. I love woodworking. Rob’s dad helped me build that old treehouse down by the lake one summer. I loved hiding out there to read or think about life. I noticed the floor’s rotting. Rianne’s not old enough to go there alone yet, but I’d like to restore it. Make it a place a growing girl might one day go to do her dreaming.”

“Our girls had a treehouse Gramps built, too. I sewed curtains and pillows. Sylvie will remember. She could do something similar for Rianne. Make it homey.”

Joel had a sudden vivid picture of domestic bliss that included him, Rianne and Sylvie. At the successful conclusion of the party, after everyone had left, he wandered around feeling alone. But he supposed that image—of family life—was
exactly what Nan Shea had intended to invoke. Even after he lay in bed, the image persisted.

Throughout the week, he puttered in the house, content to watch Rianne play with her birthday gifts. She’d been given quite a few, but had yet to receive the card or present Lynn had promised to mail. It frustrated Joel, although Rianne seemed to take it in stride.

Sylvie called him on two separate occasions to ask for his muscle in setting up the kiddy carnival booths; she’d wanted to get started early. Both times Rianne rode along, as did Kendra. The girls were fast becoming close friends. Joel was glad.

Late in the week, he got a package of the first tear sheets from his new strip. Lester had included a fat check and a note saying initial reports indicated readers loved the changes he’d introduced. This was the first time he’d seen the strips in their proper format. Spreading them one above the other in the order readers would’ve seen them in the paper, he was shocked to see how closely he’d patterned Magnolia after Sylvie Shea. He drew back and rubbed his jaw, suffering more than a little guilt.

He knew Sylvie far better now. And also her family. Caricatures, which in the beginning had seemed amusing, now felt too much like he was belittling a woman he’d come to admire. A woman he liked, maybe even loved.

Gathering the strips, Joel stuffed them out of sight in a drawer. He was probably so bothered because
he
knew Sylvie had unknowingly served as a model. If anyone in Briarwood read the comic strip, unlikely though that was, he doubted they’d pick up on the resemblance. He clattered down the stairs, glad that Atlanta was as far removed from Briarwood as it was.

“Rianne, what are you doing to that doll buggy?” Joel skidded to a halt outside his still-empty dining room. Nan had said Rob had a dining set in his shop that would go perfectly in this house. Joel needed to find time to go and see it. Just now, his daughter had the hardwood floor—which he’d waxed by hand—covered in crepe paper, glue and glitter.

“I’m
making my buggy into a parade float, Daddy. Kendra’s fixing hers, and Nikki and Nola Martin, too. Sylvie gave me crepe paper and told me how. ‘Cept, I can’t get the paper to stick around the inside of the buggy wheels.” Tears filled her eyes.

Joel saw the problem. She’d used so much glue it’d disintegrated the paper.

“Will you call Sylvie and see if she can teach me again?” Rianne wailed.

Joel’s inclination was to take over himself. But, on second thought, he hadn’t seen Sylvie all day, and his day always improved when he did. Pulling out his cell phone, he hit speed dial for her number.

She came without offering any excuses about being busy. Yet, Joel knew she was in the middle of preparing prizes for the festival and finishing two wedding dresses. He opened the door and on this unseasonably warm fall day, watched her pick her way barefoot down a lane he’d recently had graveled. She wore denim shorts and a sleeveless tank. Her hair had been pulled into a floppy sprig atop her head. Escaping tendrils framed a face smeared almost as badly as Rianne’s, which was streaked with coloring leaked from wet crepe paper. Sylvie looked like hell, and at the same time beautiful enough to make him instantly hard.

She must have seen the way his eyes raked her body, because she shot a hand to the floppy topknot. “I should’ve warned you how awful I look. Mom was by an hour ago, and you should’ve heard her lecture me, because I didn’t book an appointment to have my hair done. Or my nails,” she said, hiding her hands behind her.