The Wedding Dress(49)

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Charlotte rolled her desk chair over to her purse sticking out from the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. “Can you duplicate this?” She held up the silk sachet Tim found in the trunk. “I’d like to sell these.”

Bethany adjusted the load of dresses in her arms and reached for the small white pouch. “Don’t see these anymore. Very old style. Where’d you get it?”

“It was in the old trunk. Along with a wedding dress in perfect condition. Never altered. Not that I can tell, anyway.”

“Never altered? Probably never worn then. You said it’s in perfect condition?”

“Like it was made yesterday.”

Bethany grinned, but Charlotte saw the invisible “impossible” on her lips. “Then it probably was made yesterday. But these I can make, sure. How many do you want?”

“Let’s start out with ten. Mix up the colors. Maybe modify the design for brides and bridesmaids, mother of the bride, mother of the groom. I’ll pitch them with the gowns. How about doing some monogramming to show what we can do with them.”

“I’m on it.” Bethany lifted the sachet to the light. “Pretty nice work. In fact, excellent stitching. Where’d you get this again?”

“The old trunk.” She left out the Tim part. Charlotte didn’t feel like hashing it out. She’d have to do a lot of explaining when she told Dixie.

“There’s something in here.” Bethany’s fingers moved over the bottom of the sachet.

“Really? We, um, I looked but didn’t find anything.” Charlotte took the bag when Bethany offered it and pulled open the top drawstring.

Thrusting her hand into the bag, Charlotte landed on a cool metal plate. When she pulled it free, a set of dog tags swung from her fingers.

“Didn’t expect those.” Bethany stretched to see the tags. “My father was in Viet Nam. I’ve seen his tags a dozen times, and these look exactly like his.”

“What are dog tags doing in the sachet?” Charlotte moved closer to the light on her desk to examine the engraved name.

“Got me.” Bethany retrieved the sachet and backed out of the office. “I’m running these upstairs. I need to get going and pick up my kids, but I’ll work on replicating this sachet tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks, Beth.” Charlotte sat at her desk, the tags splayed against her palm, cool and smooth.

Joel Miller





1271960


USMC - M


Protestant

The soldier had a name. And for the moment, so did the dress. Charlotte fisted her fingers over the tags, tears surprising her eyes.

Joel Miller. Was he the husband of the woman who wore the gown? Was she TH? If so, how could Charlotte find out?

A small bubble of joy bounced against her heart. God heard her prayer. He was guiding her toward the dress’s destiny.



Dixie came in, a flush on her cheeks, her hair windblown, startling Charlotte from her contemplation.

“I just love that man of mine.” Dixie sighed and dropped her purse on top of the file cabinet. “He was so sweet at lunch, telling me how much he appreciated me putting up with his schedule and standing with him, going without the little things and not complaining. I said, ‘Yeah, well, be glad the steering wheel of my car can’t quote me.’”

Dix fell against the desk and swigged from Charlotte’s water bottle. “What’s in your hand?”

“Dog tags.” Charlotte lifted her hand and let the tags drop in front of Dixie. “They were in the sachet.”

“You know, Jared just couldn’t believe you got that trunk open with a hammer and screwdriver.” Dixie examined the tags.

“Bethany said the tags are exactly like her dad’s. He was in Nam.”

“Uh-huh. How’d you get the trunk open?”

“I wonder who Joel Miller is—”

“Me too. How’d you get the trunk open?”

“Screwdriver and hammer, just like Jared said.”

“Charlotte, Jared knows darn well you didn’t open that trunk with a hammer and screwdriver.”

“Tim. All right.” Dixie could be so unrelenting. “Tim came over and cut the lock open.”

“Tim, as in the guy who dumped you Tim?”

“My friend Tim. Not the mean, evil fiancé Tim. My friend Tim has tools. Real tools.”

“He was there when you found the dress?” A smirk tipped Dixie’s lips. A soft snort flared her nostrils.

“Well, we didn’t know . . .” Charlotte read the tags again. Who are you, Joel Miller? Was he still alive? If he was he’d be what . . . anywhere from sixty to seventy? If he was in Viet Nam, that is.

“What sweet irony,” Dixie said. Tim helped his ex-fiancée discover a secret wedding dress. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing. Looked a bit panicked until I assured him it wasn’t some ploy to get him back.” Charlotte fiddled with the dog tags. “He did look a bit disappointed though.”

“That you hadn’t worked up some grand scheme to win him back? Good grief, Tim Rose thinks too much of himself.” Dixie took another gulp of Charlotte’s water. “Do you think this Joel Miller is tied to the dress?”