The Wedding Shop (25 page)

Miriam consented with a nod and a dark glance at Rufus, before disappearing down the shadowed corridor. Rufus stepped into Cora the moment she was out of sight, swearing through gritted teeth.

“What are you doing here?”

Birch shoved him back. “Ease up there, Captain.”

“My shop burned. Caught fire.”

“So you came here? Why on earth . . .” He peered out the window by the door. “You drove five hours to tell me your shop burned?”

“It burned because of you.” Cora jabbed his chest with her finger. “Because you missed dinner and I went to look for you. The wind blew the candles over.”

His laugh inspired taut, aching chills. “Don't blame me for your carelessness.”

“Hold on, St. Claire.” Birch shoved him back. “She was concerned for you.”

“Not my problem.”

“Yes, it is your problem.” Cora crashed into him, pushing him backward. “You lying pig. You're married.” Words flew from her lips on the wings of hurt. “How could you? How could you?”

Birch reached from behind, pulling her back, pinning her arms
at her side. “Don't give him the satisfaction, Cora. If Miriam sees she'll blame you and defend her husband.”

“Do you think I care?” She jerked free. “You have a wife. With a child and one on the way.”

“How did you find me?”

“ ‘How did you find me?' That's what you ask? Not, ‘I'm sorry I hurt you, Cora. I'm sorry I lied to you, Cora.' ” She swung at him, blinded by her tears, hitting nothing but air.

“You have to go.” Rufus shoved her toward the door, his focus on Birch. “I don't care who you are, but if you care for her, get her out of here.”

He talked over her, through her, as if she mattered not. And Birch was aiding him.

No! Cora broke free, smashing Rufus's foot with her heel. “I'll not be put off.” Giving Rufus her own dark glint, she ran down the corridor, emerging into a grand kitchen with an electric stove and refrigerator. “Miriam?”

A hand grabbed hold of her hair, jerking her back. “Shut up, you little witch.”

“Let her go, St. Claire.” Birch's voice boomed through the kitchen as his body slammed against Rufus.

“Get off of me.”

Cora screamed, sinking to the ground as the men tussled, Rufus maintaining a fistful of her hair.

“Unhand her.”

Cora heard the pop of one man's fist against another man's jaw. Reaching up, she dug her fingernails into Rufus's hand. “Stop it . . . Let me go.”

“What in the world . . .” Miriam said. “Rufus, unhand her. What has gotten into you?”

Rufus released Cora, shoving her to the hardwood. Pushing up from the floor to lean on Birch, she saw Rufus rubbing his jaw.

“Nothing,” he said, facing his wife. “These two are swindlers.”

Miriam adjusted the baby boy riding on her hip. “Miss Scott, why have you disrupted my home on a quiet Sunday afternoon?”

Overhead the ceiling fans peacefully hummed and whirred, stirring the hot air.

“He's my fiancé,” Cora said, hearing the mistake in her declaration. “Well, practically. He's promised to propose to me when—”

“This is outrageous. Miriam, darling. Why are you listening to her?”

Birch stepped up, staring down the liar. “St. Claire, let her speak.”

“How could he make such promises?” Miriam's fake cackle trembled. “He's married to me.”

“I didn't know. I didn't know. He told me as soon as he made his fortune and he could support me in the manner I deserved, he'd marry me.”

“Darling,” Rufus cooed to his wife. “She's lying.”

Cora recoiled, her blinders peeled back, hearing, sensing the snake oil in his voice.

“She's not lying, Mrs. St. Claire,” Birch said.

Miriam shoved her hand against her husband with a harsh glance. “Hush up, Rufus. I'd like to hear her out. Are you his lover?”

Cora hung her head. “No.” Not that she hadn't almost succumbed on many occasions. “But I love him.”

“And where do you live, Miss Scott?”

“Heart's Bend, Tennessee. I learned about you when a postcard you sent to Rufus came to my wedding shop.”

“Miriam, darling, why are you listening to her? She's a liar.”

“St. Claire, I'm warning you!” Birch inched a step in front of Cora toward Rufus. “Let her speak.”

“Are you a liar, Miss Scott? What has my husband done to you that you'd drive up from, what is it, Heart's Bend, to tell such fantastic tales on him?”

“He was supposed to meet me for dinner two months ago.
When he didn't arrive, I went looking for him. I left candles burning and my wedding shop caught fire.”

“See, she's an imbecile. Why would I even be seen with the likes of her? She's plain. Unimaginative.”

The words whipped her soul, cutting, and blood oozed from her heart. “A man at the dock told me he had many women. Only I was the foolish one who'd not figured him out yet. He told me Rufus was one of the richest men on the river. So I came to see for myself.”

“Rufus? Is this true?” The hem of Miriam's fine dress shimmied, revealing what her steel composure tried to hide. “Did you promise to marry Miss Scott? Do you have other women?”

“Miriam, I command you to stop engaging this woman in her lies. How can I lower myself to even consider your question?”

“Mrs. St. Claire, I received a postcard you sent to your husband. It came to my shop in Heart's Bend. I inquired about you. He told me you were the wife of a mate.” The color drained from Miriam's delicate features. Her now-pale cheeks made her large, round green eyes seem otherworldly. Cora grabbed Birch's arm. “Let's go.”

“Are you sure?” Birch said, pulling her back. “Have you said all you're going to say, because you'll never get this chance again.”

She drew a deep breath, aching to look at Rufus one more time but seeing nothing but Miriam's expression. With her own heart on the verge of flying apart, she wasn't sure she could find the proper words anyway.

What did it matter that she had loved Rufus with every fiber of her being? That she'd waited for him? Dreamt of their wedding day and their honeymoon when she'd give herself to him completely? That she'd endured the scorn of her mother, her friends to defend him? That she trusted him?

He was married.

If she said more, Cora sensed she'd lose a part of herself she'd
never get back. Besides, she'd only wound Miriam, who was as much a victim of Rufus's lies and betrayal as anyone. For what? Her own comeuppance?

And what of the sweet child with the ruddy cheeks and puppy dog eyes? Or the one in the womb? They deserved to have their father—no matter how wretched a man.

“I'm sorry I disturbed your afternoon, Mrs. St. Claire. I'll be going now and you won't hear from me ever again.”

“But is it true?” She reached for Cora's arm. “I must know. Has he, did he, promise to marry you?” She dug in her fingers. “I can leave him. He used my father's money to build his life on the river.”

“I heard it was his father's money.”

“No, it was
my
father's.” She turned to Rufus. “Have you been telling people it was your father's money?”

“I can't believe you're siding with this . . . this . . . harlot.”

“Miriam,” Cora said. “If you leave, it will be your decision. Not because of me.”

“But it's true? He spoke to you of marriage?”

What answer could she give? Miriam St. Claire was more the victim than Cora would ever be. “Yes, he did.”

Miriam shrank back, hand over her mouth, cradled her son closer, and hurried down a side hall, out of the kitchen and away from the truth.

“Now look what you've done,” Rufus growled in her face.

“No, look what
you've
done.”

Head raised, heels singing an exit dirge against the marble, Cora marched out of the house, holding herself together until she was out the front door, through the gate, and down the walk.

Beyond her, somewhere against the blue sky, birds sang their song as the wind pushed through the changing October trees.

In the car, she slammed her door and tried to ram her key into the ignition, but she trembled so she couldn't control her movements.

“Here, here, let me.” Birch took the jangling keys from her and slipped one into the ignition. “I can drive if you want.”

“No.” Her voice sank into her chest, though she tried to hold her head high. “I-I can drive.”

“You did it, Gunga Din.”

“Did I? Really? I may have just busted up that child's home because I had to feel justified.”

“Don't you dare, Cora Scott. Don't you dare take on Rufus St. Claire's sins.” Birch reclined against the passenger door. “He wrongs a woman and somehow she feels guilty for confronting him about it? For hurting his wife, who, if you asked me, needed to know the truth.”

“But the children don't have to be hurt by it. If she leaves him . . .”

“She won't. Trust me.”

“How do you know? She's got money. She doesn't need him.”

“She won't leave him because he's the father of her children. Because her daddy's money will keep him in line. Because he's rugged and good-looking, and as long as he treats her like a queen when he's in town, she'll forget all about his tomcatting around when he's away. It's a perfect life for her. The scandal of divorce would crush her more than what you just did in there. But she needed to know. And you?” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “You needed to close the door on him. Cora, you're free of him now. You're free.”

“Am I? Really?”

Cranking the motor, she brushed a stream of tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“The fact remains, Birch, I loved him. Still do. I wanted to make a life with him.” Cora shifted into gear, but couldn't release the clutch and drive.

Crashing her head against the steering wheel, shaking so hard each inhale filled her lungs with pain. Sobs gathered in her chest, and when she exhaled she collapsed into Birch's waiting arms.

“Oh, Birch, oh, Birch . . .”

He held her, catching her tears with the hook of his finger. “You are more than you believe, Cora. So much more. You'll see, darling, everything will be right as rain. That's it, let it all out. Everything will be right as rain.”

H
ALEY

Malone & Co. was a gorgeous shop. Haley loved the vibe, and Charlotte, immediately. Beyond striking, she was confident with a kind aura that helped Haley wash away the last of her confrontation with Dax.

It'd taken the two-and-a-half-hour chilly ride down I-65 and a lot of prayer to dislodge that man from her emotions.

He had nerve on top of nerve.

But now that she was in Charlotte's good graces, Haley righted her thoughts and emotions.

She'd reviewed Haley's business plan, giving her a thumbs-up, reminding her to budget for part-time help and shop upkeep. She gave her ideas on how to work with local businesses, enlisting their support. Ways to barter for advertising, get sponsorships.

She advised her on how to order her gowns, what items to buy outright, what items to buy on consignment. She gave insight on everything from how to steer brides to the right gown to bookkeeping to what Haley could expect to make in her first five years.

“Tennessee's wedding business is over one billion.” Charlotte arched one brow. “You shouldn't have trouble getting a piece of that. Do you have an opening date?”

“Sort of. The town gave me the building, but I have to have it renovated by May first with the doors open in June. Only trouble is, I don't have all the money I need and the construction permits
are held up with red tape. The town gave me twenty thousand, which I have to pay back, but it's not enough. But then this older woman came by with her
mother's
wedding dress.” Recalling the story buzzed a spark of life through Haley. “Said Miss Cora lent the gown to her but her mother never returned it. She gave me the dress
and
five thousand dollars. Called it interest.”

Charlotte regarded her. “Sounds like people believe in what you're doing.”

“I guess. I just have to keep believing.” The image and sound of Dax offering to help flashed across her mind. No, no, no. Letting him in would destroy her and the shop.

Charlotte gave her a tour of her place, then moved toward the stairs, wide and grand, much like the ones in her own shop, motioning for Haley to follow.

“I love that the former bride brought her mother's gown to you. Very sweet, but consider if you want to be both vintage and modern. Do you have the space to do both?”

“Actually, I do. There's a small and large salon. Could one be for vintage, one for modern?”

“I like it. It's unique. Gives you a niche.”