The Wedding Dress(45)

“I went to 5th Avenue to see Taffy Hayes.” Emily squeezed Molly’s hand.

“You don’t say, miss. By yourself?”

“Yes . . . well, no.” Emily opened the icebox for the bottle of milk. “This odd gentleman with a purple ascot escorted me.”

“You went into the colored district with a strange man?” Molly set a glass on the cutting table for Emily, then took the bottle of milk and poured for her.

“I suppose I did.” Emily pictured Mr. Oddfellow as she raised her glass. “He seemed harmless. Safe. Like I’d known him my whole life.” Or he’d known her. Emily took a long cool drink. “I’d best go speak to Mother and Father.”

Pushing through the kitchen door, she took the long hall to the library. She’d intended to meet with Taffy briefly, but once she’d shown Emily the sketches she’d drawn with her in mind, minutes turned into hours.

She was grateful the cabbie waited for her. Father had a large payment to settle with him.

Outside the library door, Emily inhaled, once for courage and again for confidence. “Mother, Father, good afternoon.”

Mother stood, setting aside her book. “Good afternoon? It’s nearly supper. Where have you been, Emily? When I left you on the corner, you were heading to Newman’s for ice cream.”

“You worried us, daughter.” Father shoved away from his desk and walked around, taking his timepiece from his vest pocket. He supported Mother in her inquiry but winked at Emily when Mother wasn’t looking.

“I went on an errand.”

“Where? What sort of errand?” Mother said with a look at Father.

“If you must know—” Emily lifted her chin but not so high she gazed at Father and Mother down her nose.

“Sir.” Jefferson knocked as he entered. “Mr. Phillip Saltonstall to see you.”

Phillip barged in without waiting for an invitation. “What’s this I hear, Emily? You went to Gaston Hotel? You were inside for hours. What in heaven’s name were you doing there?”

Mother gasped, reaching back for the cloth-covered arm of her chair as she melted into the seat. “Phillip, how on earth?”

“Emily, is this true? Did you go to the colored business district?” Father reached over and patted Mother’s hand. “There, there, dear. Emily must have a sound reason.”

“You went to see that dressmaker, didn’t you?” Mother pulled away from Father, her jaw set, ire forming in her eyes.

Emily stepped back, into Phillip. The confidence and courage she’d inhaled before entering the library evaporated. “I did, yes. Miss Taffy Hayes. She is going to make my gown.”

“You have a gown.” Mother’s taut tone belied the decorum of a Southern lady. “We’ve paid Mrs. Caruthers, Emily. Her gown cost your father seven hundred dollars.”

“Taffy’s gown, along with dresses for all the bridesmaids, will only cost five hundred.”

“Five hundred dollars. For all those dresses?” Mother grabbed Emily by the arms. “I’ll not have you walk down the aisle in a shoddy dress with the seams coming undone.”

“Mother’s right. You get what you pay for, Emily.” Father didn’t wink at her this time.

“Father, Miss Hayes will not deliver shoddy work. You should’ve seen the designs she sketched for my gown. Before I even arrived.” Emily absently rubbed the tingle from her arm.

“Excuse me.” Phillip interjected his presence in the room. “To devil with the price of wedding dresses. Your daughter, my fiancée, spent three hours this afternoon with a Negro woman, in her establishment, in their business district. The news is all over the Highlands and Red Mountain by now. What were you thinking, Emily? You could’ve been raped or kidnapped.”

“Raped or kidnapped? By whom? Good men, fathers and sons, trying to earn a decent living? I found the people kind and cordial, good folks just like us. Are you telling me Birmingham society is whispering a sigh of relief for my safety? Or because they are disappointed I wasn’t maimed?”

“They’re whispering over your utter stupidity.”

“Phillip,” Father said. “Let’s calm down, get our wits about us.”

“My wits are fine, Howard.” Phillip paced in short circles, his hands on his waist, holding back his blazer. “I’m not so certain about your daughter.”

“Insult me again, Phillip, and I shall leave the room.”

“What were you thinking, going to the colored district? Convicts work there, right downtown where you were.”

“Chained together, overseen by men with guns and whips. I could’ve walked down that street naked and been safer with those colored convicts than with those white guards, I tell you. And dare I say half the smarmy businessmen of Birmingham.”

“Emily.” Mother looked as if she might faint.

“Phillip’s the one who brought up rape, Mother.”

“You mock me.” Phillip faced Emily, his expression stern and set. “I’ll not have you going about the city, into the colored district, because you get a wild idea about a new frock. We are the Saltonstalls.”

Emily sank slowly into the horsehair parlor chair. “I meant no disrespect to the Saltonstall name, Phillip.” She fidgeted, wrapping her hands in the folds of her skirt. “Nor to the Canton name, Father.”