The Wedding Dress(23)

“Charlotte, you’re here.” Dixie came around the corner, from the direction of the reveal salon. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled her along. “Close your eyes.”

“And run into the wall? No thanks. What’s going on? I brought lattes and pastries.”

“Okay, great, but first, close your eyes.”

Charlotte skidded along with Dixie, her knees trembling. The high-octane adrenaline of “taking her life back” that fueled her morning shower and Starbucks drive-through was evaporating. And the depleting fumes of hope, of tomorrow being another day, ran thin. She’d fooled herself into believing this was a fresh new day. Forget Tim Rose. Tim who?

No, today gripped her heart with a hard, sad fist. It’s over. Love done gone. “Dix, really, I’m not in the mood.” She paused at the reveal salon door. “Whatever you’re up to, I’m not doing it.”

Though Charlotte crawled out of bed early, turned on a low lamp, filled a tumbler with Diet Coke, and read John 15.

Apart from me, you can do nothing.

She could do anything if she believed.

“You’re going to love this,” Dixie said. “You know how you introduced Kristin to her dress. Well, after five years of standing under your genius shadow, your fairy dust fell on me, and I’ve found the perfect gown for you.”

“No, Dix, really, I can’t.”

“You promised me. This week. And I put a call into that man of yours and left a message I’d be there at his office around three with a half-dozen tuxes for him and David to try. Ha! You have to get up pretty early to keep ole Dixie down. Hey, was that a song? Anyway, there’s more than one way to tux a groom and I found it.” Dixie backed through the salon door, shoving it open, pulling Charlotte with her. “Keep those baby blues closed, Charlotte.”

No, no, no. “Dixie, wait, listen to me—”

“Stop protesting. Hold on, let me get you into position.” Dixie shifted Charlotte a little to the right, squaring her shoulders. “Open your eyes.” Dixie swooped in front of her, arms high and wide. “Ta-da.”

On the reveal stage was a simple satin gown with an Italian-lace band at the waist, trimmed in pearls. The elbow-length sleeves touched the top of long white gloves. Tulle and crinoline held out the Cinderella skirt that swept into a shimmering cathedral train.

“Oh, Dixie, it is beautiful.” Charlotte battled tears for a second, then gave up. The lights danced over the pristine satin and caught the incandescence of the pearls. If she were getting married, indeed Dixie had found Charlotte’s dress.

“I know June isn’t a month for gloves, but I thought they completed the look. Do you like it, really? Cap sleeves aren’t in style, per se, but this dress just speaks to me. Does it you? I tell you, I don’t know how you reach into a woman’s heart and pull out the perfect gown for her. But you do. I know you better than I know anyone other than Dr. Hotstuff, but I struggled to project your essence into this gown. Well?” Dixie exhaled, eyes wide.

“I told you, my gift is from God.” Charlotte’s voice broke, but she recovered as Dixie stepped toward her.

“Do you love it? I do. Come on, boss, tell me, how’d I do?”

“Excellent, you did excellent. It’s . . . perfect. But please put it back on the rack. I won’t be wearing it.” Charlotte turned to leave.

“What? Charlotte, come on, this dress has your name on it. See, right there in the pearly light . . . Charlotte Malone. Give me one good reason why you can’t get married in this dress.”

“Because, Dix, I’m not getting married.” She held up her bare ring hand. “Please, put it away.”

“Charlotte, good grief, what happened?” Dixie trailed Charlotte out of the room. “You’re not getting married? Did you break up with him?”

“No, actually, he broke up with me.” Charlotte rounded the shop’s flared staircase, heading for the kitchen and the comfort of her latte and coffee cake. “He said he wanted to postpone the wedding for a while. I said we get married or we break up.” She shrugged. “So, yeah, I guess I did. But he didn’t fight me . . .”

“Oh, dear friend, I’m . . . I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it. Did he say why he wanted to wait?” Dixie’s soft tone sympathized with Charlotte’s feelings. “This makes no sense, no sense at all. He just doesn’t feel ready? Everyone gets cold feet. I had icicles for toes before Hotstuff and I got married. So what? Tim fell head over heels in love and kept falling until he tumbled right on out? I don’t get it.” Dixie waved off the pastry Charlotte offered.

Spoken in those terms, it didn’t make sense. But, in the deep dark of her heart, something felt right about this. And that, in and of itself, felt wrong. Charlotte sat at the kitchenette and took a small bite of her coffee cake, weary from her boomerang emotions. The pastry looked so good when she was in Starbucks. But at the moment, the sweet bread tasted like cardboard.

“Are you okay, Charlotte?” Dixie pressed Charlotte’s arm and pulled a chair up beside her. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“I didn’t sleep well.” Charlotte tossed her breakfast to the napkin on the table. “I woke up and read my Bible, but Jesus doesn’t say much on how to tell if a guy is the right one. I wanted Tim to be the one, Dix. Maybe for all the wrong reasons.” Since it was Dixie, Charlotte let her tears fall. “He’s gorgeous, at least to me. He’s fun and smart, he makes me laugh. From the moment I met him, I forgot myself and I’d talk without censoring every word, then later wonder if I made a fool of myself. When he called the first time to ask me to dinner, I believed there was something divine about the whole thing because I’m not that pretty and I’m definitely not that good of a flirt.”