The Wedding Dress(5)

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 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



Charlotte 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, “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?”