The Wedding Dress (3 page)

“Let’s start the bidding at five,” he said.

Several from the crowd peeled away, releasing the pressure Charlotte felt to stay penned in. The swirl of cool air around her legs felt good.

“Do I have five?” he said again.

Charlotte checked the faces of those who remained. Come on, someone, bid five dollars. Now that the trunk had a price and had endured laughter, her sympathies were aroused. Hearing a bit of its story changed its dismal appearance.

Everyone,
everything
, needed love.

Another few seconds ticked by. Bid someone, please. “I’ll bid five.” Charlotte raised her rolled catalog. She could donate the trunk to the children’s ministry at church. They were always looking for items to store toys or to pack with mission trip necessities.

“I have five hundred.” The auctioneer held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Do I have five-fifty?”

“Five hundred?” She balked. “No, no, I bid five dollars.”

“But the price was five hundred.” The auctioneer nodded at her. “Always consider the cost, little lady. Now you know the price. Do I have five-fifty?”

Please, someone, bid five-fifty
. How could she have been so stupid? The innocent-old-man routine fooled her.

The man next to Charlotte raised his catalog. “I’ll go five-fifty.”

Charlotte exhaled, pressing her hand to her chest. Thank you, kind sir. She flipped through the catalog pages again, searching for a description, some information, anything on the trunk. But it was flat not listed.

“Five-fifty, do I have six? Six hundred dollars.” The auctioneer’s eyes were animated, speaking, and his cheeks glistened red even though the mountain air under the tent was cool for April.

The woman next to Charlotte raised her hand. “Six.”

Three more bidders peeled away. Charlotte regarded the trunk through narrow slits, thinking she should just take this time to be on her way too. She’d experienced enough of the bidding process.

Besides, she wanted to grab a bite of lunch before her appointment. By the time she left the salon, she’d have just time enough to go home and change before Tim picked her up at six.

“Six, do I have six-fifty?” The auctioneer’s voice bobbed with each syllable.

“Six-fifty.” The man on her left. “I can use it for replacement parts on a steamer I’m restoring.”

“Seven hundred,” Charlotte said, the words bursting from her lips. She cleared her throat and faced the auctioneer. Used for parts? Never. Something inside her rebelled at the thought of tearing the trunk apart. “This trunk deserves its own tender, loving care.”

“That it does, young lady. I rescued it myself. And what I rescue is never destroyed.” The auctioneer’s eyes radiated blue with each word and sent a burning chill through Charlotte. “Do I have seven-fifty?”

The woman next to her lifted her hand.

“Eight.” Charlotte didn’t even wait for him to up the bid. “Hundred. Eight hundred.”

Run! Get out of here!
Charlotte tried to turn, but her legs refused to move and her feet remained planted on the Ludlow lawn. A blunt brush of the April breeze cooled the flash of perspiration on her forehead.

She didn’t want this trunk. She didn’t need this trunk. Her loft was contemporary, small, and so far, clutter-free. The way she liked it.

Malone & Co. was an upscale, classy, exquisitely contemporary boutique. Where would she put a beat-up old trunk? Never mind that she’d spent her windfall money on the remodel. Every last dime. And her personal bank account had just enough to foot the expense of a small wedding. Eight hundred dollars for a trunk was not in the budget. If she was going to blow that much cash, she’d buy a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes.

“It calls to you, doesn’t it?” The man in purple leaned toward Charlotte with a swoosh up of his bushy brows.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Tim would have a fit if she brought that thing home.

Charlotte regarded the trunk. Who was the man or woman who owned the trunk in days gone by? What about the bride the auctioneer spoke of from 1912—wouldn’t she want a home for this battered old piece?

“Eight-fifty.” The second man on Charlotte’s left made a bid.

“One thousand dollars.” Charlotte clapped her hand over her mouth. But it was too late. She’d made the bid.

Oh, she’d have to explain this to Tim.

“Sold.” The auctioneer smacked his palms together and pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “This trunk belongs to you.”

Charlotte read the preprinted slip.
Redeemed. $1,000
. She whirled around. “Wait, sir, excuse me, but ys use me,how did you know . . .”

But he was gone. Along with the crowd and the hum of voices. Charlotte stood completely alone except for the battered trunk and the glittering swirl in the air.

Chapter Two

 
C
harlotte leaned into Tim as they watched his parents’ anniversary party from their table. A bluish amber hue fell over their dinner plates as the party lights chased around the ballroom.

“Dinner was good, wasn’t it?” she said.
Come on, Tim. It’s only money
.

“It was great.”

Charlotte looked over at him. He was picture-perfect to her. If she could use such a word. His straight nose aligned over full lips and an even, square chin. His long, sandy hair fell in a soft sheen against his sculpted cheek.

But at the moment his normally vibrant, charming countenance was brooding.

Oh, why didn’t she wait to tell him until the ride home? Now the family—Katherine—would blame Charlotte for Tim’s lack of participation.

“Do you want to dance? Look, Jack keeps waving at us.”

Jack was Tim’s younger brother, the one right after him in the line of five boys. David, Tim, Jack, Chase, and Rudy.

“In a minute.” Tim gestured for Jack to hold on.

Every guest at this fortieth wedding anniversary celebration was on the floor jukin’ and jivin’, singing “celebrate good times, come on” at the top of their lungs.

Everyone except Tim and Charlotte.

“Come on, Tim, it’s not that big of a deal. Let’s dance.” Charlotte stood, smoothing her hands over her skirt. She’d determined to have a good time tonight, forget her Red Mountain mission that went bust and let her inner extrovert rule the night. She had a long talk with
that girl
this afternoon while sitting in the chair getting her hair and nails done.

She’d worn a new party dress, a navy number with a fitted bodice and short, flared skirt. And a matching pair of Jimmy Choo Mary Janes she’d bought on sale.

The night was going so well. Tim couldn’t keep his eyes off of her and for the first time, Charlotte actually felt like she was a part of the inner-Rose circle.

Then, fifteen minutes ago, Charlotte leaned into her man and said, her manOh, Tim, I forgot to tell you, but I ended up at an auction today up on Red Mountain and bought a trunk. For a thousand dollars.” There now, that wasn’t so bad.

Then she noticed the light dimming in his eyes. “A thousand dollars?” Tim kept the wedding budget and had every penny accounted for until June 23.

After that, they whispered harshly to each other over dinner about why and how she could’ve spent that much money without talking to him. The muffled debate concluded as dessert arrived.

“I hope you didn’t buy that five-thousand-dollar dress you wanted because we can’t afford that now.”

“No, I haven’t,” Charlotte said with a bit of sass. “I haven’t bought my dress yet.”

The confession hung between them and dimmed the last bit of merry light from Tim’s eyes. “We’re getting married in two months, Charlotte. You own a bridal shop.”

“I know, I know.” When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? Her timing missed by a country mile.

They ate their carrot cake in relative silence.

“Sure you don’t want to dance?” Charlotte tugged on his elbow.

Tim shoved away from the table, standing. “I’m going for some air.”

“O-okay.” Charlotte watched him go through watery eyes. “Tim?”

He turned, gazing down at her.

“Sorry about the money.”

“I know, Char.” He brushed his fingers lightly over her neck and relieved her fears. “It’s okay. Promise. I’ll be back in a minute.”

In the four months she’d known Tim, she’d learned that he needed time to process. He rarely made snap decisions. Which was another reason to contemplate this whole wedding ordeal.

He never did anything impulsively—so why the marriage proposal so quickly? Was it a moment of romantic weakness? She wasn’t sure he even
wanted
to marry her. What made him drop to one knee two months after they’d met and slip a ring on her finger?

Did she want to marry
him
? Charlotte might have to drive back up to Red Mountain in the morning.

But oh, his proposal was perfect and romantic. Charlotte blurted yes without thinking. She led with her heart. At least that’s what Gert always told her.

The band brought down the music and the dance-floor lights dimmed. Couples stepped together and swayed in time to “I Only Have Eyes for You.”

Charlotte grabbed her clutch and headed for the ladies’ room. If she sat there any longer, someone would inquire about Tim.

Shoving through the door, Charlotte was grateful to be alone. She leaned against the vanity counter and studied her reflection in the mirror, ducking under the glare of the unkind lights.

The strands of hair that had slipped from her updo curled around her neck. Pressing her finger under her eye, she dabbed away a spot of mascara. As she opened her clutch for her lipstick, a voice crawled over her shoulder.

“You look beautiful tonight, Charlotte.”

Charlotte glanced in the mirror. Katherine, older brother David’s wife, stood behind her. “As do you. I love your dress.”

Katherine moved to the vanity and leaned toward the mirror, checking her hair and makeup. She was the first and only daughter-in-law in Marshall and Blanch Rose’s family. A distinction she took seriously and guarded jealously.

“Are you having a good time?” Katherine’s smile was stiff and forced as she fished a tube of lipstick from her clutch. “You and Tim have a fight? You were whispering to each other all through dinner. It’s a good thing Blanch couldn’t see you directly.” She smoothed red color over her lips. “Tim’s usually the first on the floor and he’s not been out there yet. He never misses ‘Celebrate.’”

“I’m having a lovely time, Katherine, thank you.” Charlotte sidestepped the woman’s hunt for information. Her conversation with Tim wasn’t any of his sister-in-law’s business. “Forty years of marriage is quite a milestone.”

“You know, Charlotte”—Katherine tore a tissue from the box—“if you’re going to be a Rose, you should start trying to act like a Rose. You keep dragging Tim to dark corners and holding personal conversations like he’s not allowed to associate with his own family. It’s not going to sit well with everyone if this keeps up.” She dabbed the corners of her red lips with the white tissue.

“That shade works well with your complexion,” Charlotte said, unwilling to go on the defensive and debate the Rose family with Katherine. It would be futile. She’d rather stay on her turf. Home field advantage. “My assistant Dixie does makeup for our brides and she’s using soft pinks on the brides with fair complexions.”

Katherine tossed her lipstick back into her clutch. “Well, it was recommended by the girl at the Saks sales counter. But don’t change the subject, Charlotte.”

“Is there a subject?” It felt more like an inquisition. Charlotte clicked her clutch closed and reached for a tissue. She needed a

“Let me tell you a story, Charlotte. I lived next door to the Roses from the time I was three until my freshman year in high school.” Katherine wadded the tissue and tossed it in the trash bin. “David walked me to first grade. Yep, he did. He was the older man, a second grader. Then the summer before seventh grade, my dad moved us across town to a mansion in an exclusive, gated community. We had a pool, tennis courts.” Katherine folded her arms and leaned against the vanity. “But my parents had to work eighty-hour weeks to keep us in the life of luxury, and it tore the family apart. My parents settled their divorce the day after I got my driver’s license.” She stared at her hands. “I felt pretty lost so I drove over to the old neighborhood. To the last place we were happy. Dave and Tim were raking the fall leaves into piles for Jack, Chase, and Rudy to jump in. It was like time stood still at the Rose place except David had turned into this tall, filled-out, gorgeous boy. He saw me and waved. I pulled into the driveway, in so many ways, and never left.”

Charlotte regarded her in the mirror for a moment, their eyes clashing. “I’m not very good at reading between the lines, Katherine.” She held her voice low and steady. “What is it you’re trying to say?” Charlotte walked to the sink to wash her hands, to break the laser line of Katherine’s gaze.

“I’m just going to let out the clutch and speak my mind.”

“Please do.” Charlotte turned off the water and reached for the hand towels, and with an inhale, tightened her ribs around her heart.

“I don’t think you two belong together, Charlotte. You don’t fit in with the family. It’s not that you can’t, but you won’t. What’s going to happen once you’re married? It’d kill Dad and Mom Rose if Tim drifted away from us.”