The Wedding Dress(33)

“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 life. 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





Outside 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.”