The Wedding Dress (14 page)

“He’s two feet from you. Yes, he’s seen you.” Dixie laughed, gently pushing Charlotte’s hand from her face. “But say the word and I’ll back out of here. I don’t promise to miss his toes.”

“So I should talk to him?” Charlotte peeked over her shoulder. Tim still stood outside her window, peering in at her.

“Do you want to hear what he has to say? He did leave
her
and come out here to talk to you.”

Charlotte eased her grip on the handbag she cradled in her lap. She’d always known Tim to be a man of honor and he didn’t like to leave things undone.

She climbed out of the car, closing the door behind her. Leaning against it, she folded her arms. “What’s up?”

“How are you?” Tim stood a few feet from her. The fragrance of spice with a bass note of something floral settled between them.

“Great. Perfect. Enjoying a night out with my girl, Dix. Jared’s working at the hospital.”

“She’s a friend, Charlotte.” He gestured toward the restaurant.

“Who?” Charlotte leaned toward him, then gazed at the restaurant as if she didn’t see
her
earlier.

“Kim.”

“You were here with Kim? Your ex?”

“Yeah, that’d be Kim.” He made a face. “I know you saw us, Charlotte. I saw you sneaking out.”

“Tim, what do you want? Why’d you come out here?”

“To explain. I didn’t know Kim was in town until she called today. Wanted to talk.” He cleared his throat, glancing toward the dark pockets of the parking lot. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” Her hard retort didn’t reflect the softening happening in her heart.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Tim said, low and intimate. “Do you have any—”

“What’s done is done, Tim. We can’t be engaged if you don’t want to get married.” She felt like a bit of a coward hiding her own wedding jitters behind his.

He nodded, biting on his bottom lip. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Hey, it’s good, Tim, all good.” She shifted her stance, uncrossed her arms, and made a smoothing motion with her hands. “It’s for the best, you know? At least we didn’t send the invitations. Can you imagine returning all those gifts? What a nightmare.”

“There’s always a silver lining, I suppose. A thin one, but . . .” Tim gave her the same look that beguiled her heart the first night they met. “Can we talk? Maybe sometime this week?”

“About what, Tim? How it didn’t work? How you didn’t want to marry me? I think we’ve said all we can say, and I’m doing all I can to move on.”

“I miss you.” The wind picked up the ends of his hair, blowing them across his eyes.

Charlotte pressed her fingers into her palms, tucking her arms tighter, resisting the automatic urge to reach up and smooth his hair from his face, gently trailing her fingers over his forehead and down his strong, high cheeks.

“It’s only been a day, Tim.”

He laughed, low. “Longest day of my li [ dat’s for fe. I kept reaching for the phone to call you.”

“Don’t you find that odd? Yesterday, you couldn’t
make
yourself call me. Went racing and forgot all about our plans.”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out all day. The only thing I can come up with is I miss Charlotte, my friend.”

“But not the fiancée?”

“That arrangement had me feeling boxed in, like a coon up a tree, but my friend Charlotte—I really miss her.”

“What are you afraid of? Marriage in general or marriage to me?”

“Marriage in general. You, I kind of like. A lot. Maybe I didn’t know how much.”

Charlotte shivered in the breeze. “I was kind of a package deal. Friend and fiancée. Can’t have one without the other.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He gazed toward the restaurant. “Guess I’d better go.”

“Guess so.”
Fight for me, Tim. Fight your own fears
. Charlotte popped open the car door. “Have a nice dinner.”

“I don’t suppose coffee or lunch sometime would be possible.”

“No, Tim, it’s not. I’m sorry you miss your
friend
and the convenience of having me there for you without the sensation of being a treed coon, but you proposed to me. I trusted you. I loved you. And Charlotte the fiancée is kind of smarting now that you’re having dinner with another woman twenty-four hours after we called things off.”

“She’s just a friend.”

“Like me? Another member of the Tim Rose ex-fiancée brigade.”

He sighed. “She broke up with me.”

  “Well, there you go.” Charlotte hopped in the car. “Now’s your chance to get her back.”

“Charlotte, come on, it’s not like that and you know it.”

Dixie was out of the parking lot and heading down the street before the first sob escaped Charlotte’s clenched jaw and pressed lips. Shoulders rolling forward, she bent her face to her knees and wept the rest of the way home.

Chapter Nine

 
Emily

 
O
utside Father’s library door, Emily paused a moment before twisting the knob, letting herself in. Since she’d been a girl, Father had encouraged her to come to him anytime she needed, never demanding a knock or voice of permission before she entered. Just come as she willed.

“Emily, come, come.” Father set down his pen and rose to greet her. “I’m just writing your brother. Telling him about your engagement party this evening.”

“Tell him I wish he was here. He owes me a long, newsy letter.” Howard Jr., three years younger, had been one of Emily’s best friends—a confidant and champion—until he left for Harvard. She missed his wisdom and teasing “Aw, sis” at the moment.

“I shall, I shall.” Father tugged his trousers loose from his knees as he returned to his chair. “Are you looking forward to this evening? All of Birmingham society will be there.” Father clapped his hands against his chest, rocking back, looking proud. “My little girl is getting married.”

“Yes, she is, Father. Getting . . . married. And tonight . . . tonight is . . . well, a big night for us all.”
Just speak it out, Emily. Father will know what to do
.

“Is something on your mind, daughter?”

Yes!
Father always could see through her. She came in here with no small thing on her mind. Emily paced over to the window, seeing a phantom image of Daniel’s fine, even features in the shadows of clapping tree limbs.

“Remember how Howard Jr. didn’t want to go to Harvard? He wanted to attend the University of Alabama as I did, but you insisted. He argued Harvard was too far away, a Yankee school, in a cold Yankee town.”

“He’s learning his father knows best.”

“That is why I’m here, Father.” Emily came to the chair by his desk. “I need your best advice.”

“What is it, Emily? You sound troubled.” Father removed one of his precious Cuban cigars from the humidor.

Despite the fact that Father hid Daniel’s letters from her, he was her rock, her support, the one who more times than she wanted to admit had chosen rightly for her. Her education. On occasion, her friends. Even suggesting Phillip as a proper suitor when Daniel left to play for the Barons.

“Is this about Loveman’s? Your mother told me what happened with Mrs. Caruthers. Don’t take it to heart, dear girl. She’s merely a dressmaker and all we need from her is her best work. Your mother will see to that, never fear.”

“I do take it to heart, Father. I don’t like her, nor her attitude about coloreds.” But in light of ct im" a Daniel’s insinuation about Phillip, Mrs. Caruthers’s prejudices paled for the moment.

“Careful, Emily, there are laws.”

“I’m aware of the laws.”
The very unfair laws
. But at the moment, she craved Father’s comfort concerning Phillip. “Father, I’m not here about Mrs. Caruthers. I’m here about Daniel Ludlow.”

Father averted his gaze to his cigar as he took several deep puffs and relaxed in his winged chair. “I’d heard he’d returned.”

“You hid his letters from me.” The sentence warranted no quarrel. Just pure, simple truth.

“That’s a rather grand accusation, Emily.” Father continued to puff on his cigar. Emily went to the window and opened it. The dewy evening breeze, scented with the sunbaked earth, dissipated the tobacco smoke.

“Is it? I found them in the stable.”

“What were you doing in the stable?” Father tapped ashes into the ashtray stand by his desk and peered at her. “Molly gave me up, didn’t she?”

“She did not. You have a loyal confidante in her. Daniel came to see me. He told me about the letters.” Emily held steady with courage—that was the way to converse with Father, head on and confident. “Why did you take them? I believe they belong to me, Father. It’s not like you.”

“Letters that arrive at my home are my property. To do with as I see fit.”

“Not when they are addressed to me. I am not your property. You raised me to be my own person.”

“I did. Yet in matters of the heart, fathers know best. Daniel Ludlow is a fine boy, Emily, but he is not for you.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Emily leaned over his desk, hands gripping the thick edge. “You barely know him.”

“I know him enough, his family and lineage. I watched you two over the last year, and what I hoped was a schoolgirl crush turned into something you considered love.” Father pointed at her with his cigar. “I was glad when he left to play ball.”

“It’s my decision whom I love, Father.”

“Do you not love Phillip?”

“We are not talking about Phillip. We’re talking about Daniel. You didn’t give me a chance to decide for myself between Phillip and Daniel. You manipulated my heart your way by hiding Daniel’s letters.”

“What do you want ct d>

“You had no money, no connections, and no future when you started out. But you made connections, you made money, and thus your own future, Father. You didn’t fear hard work, and it molded you into a great man of character.” She went around the desk and knelt by his chair, pressing her hands on the smooth wooden arms. “That’s what I saw in Daniel. Those pieces of you that made you great. But you never gave him a chance.”

“Emily dear, years ago, an investor came my way while I was breaking my back to build my company. He offered me a leg up, his financial backing. Do you think I was wise to take it?”

“Certainly”—she brushed ashes from his sleeve—“you’re not a fool.”

“And neither are you.” He regarded her through the swirl of smoke. “Phillip is your offering of a better life, Emily. A leg up in society, a way for your children to have even more than you’ve had.”

“All right, fair enough, but what if . . .” Emily stood, staring down at her hands, a chilly nervousness in her veins. Was this fair to Phillip, to bring up his indiscretion when she’d not confronted him? When she’d not inquired about his side of the story? For all she knew, Daniel lied to her. Though she’d never known him to lie. Not even a little white one. Certainly her own eyes never lied to her. She saw what she saw that day at Loveman’s. So had Daniel.

“Emily? You were asking ‘What if?’”

She glanced at her father. “Nothing, I suppose.” What would Father think if she accused Phillip with such a thing? He’d think she was speculating and foolish, collaborating with her jilted lover. “I just wondered about the letters.”

“So Molly is my trusted confidante?”

“She’s no fool either, Father.”

“Emily, why are you not dressing?” Mother swooped into the library. “Your party begins in an hour. Howard, why are you keeping her?” Mother wore a fitted gown of pale pink chiffon and lace. Her rich brown hair with amber highlights was swept into a thick, full pompadour. Diamond earrings shimmered from the tips of her ears. “Molly has taken your dress upstairs, Emily. Hurry, get changed.” Father stood as she approached and leaned to kiss her. “Your tuxedo awaits you in your quarters, Howard.”

“Are you finished speaking with me, Emily?” Father began to put away c towidhis ledger and pen.

“Yes, Father.” She started for the door. “Thank you.”

“Emily,” Father called. “All brides get nervous. Rest assured, I didn’t steer your brother wrong by sending him to Harvard. I’ve not steered you wrong either.”

From atop Red Mountain, overlooking Jones Valley and the flickering lights of the Magic City, Emily was a princess for the night. A hundred guests dined on roasted quail and creamed potatoes, with chocolate mousse for dessert. All in her and Phillip’s honor.

Phillip looped his arm through hers as they gathered on the perimeter of the Saltonstall’s grand ballroom. The butler shoved open the terrace doors and a cool breeze swept up from the valley. On the far side of the room, a small orchestra tuned, drawing bows over strings, creating a dissonant melody.

“It was a fine dinner, Saltonstall.” Powell Jamison, one of Phillip’s oldest friends, joined Phillip and Emily in the center of the room and turned in a slow circle, facing the guests. “Ladies and gentleman, as my good friend Phillip’s best man, may I offer a toast.” He raised a glass of golden champagne. Around the room servants distributed bubbling crystal flutes to the guests. “To Phillip and his lovely bride-to-be, Emily.” The guests raised their glasses. “Best wishes for a long and happy marriage. Emily, later you can tell me what the lousy cad did to persuade you to marry him.”