The Wedding Dress(88)



“I’d rather be standing in it now than this gown. I declare, the weight is giving me a headache.”

“Willoughby was quite the man about Birmingham in those days.” Father went on with his words and walking. “Our city was young and eager to grow. He came down from Philadelphia, like your mother and I; a grad of Haverford, like me. He liked what I was doing, starting a bank. He wanted to join in, invest his money. He offered me a solid sum as an investor.”

Something about Father’s manner started Emily’s heart churning. “Go on.”

“He was the kind of man folks wanted to be around. Your mother and I would lie in bed at night marveling over our fortune of having made the acquaintance of Ward Willoughby.”

“What happened?”

“The man came with conditions. If I wanted his money and support, I had to sign over Canton Exchange for the first three years. Or until Willoughby earned back his investments. But when it came right down to it, I just couldn’t bring myself to sign the papers. I knew your mother and our small staff at the exchange would be disappointed. The city was growing so quickly. If I didn’t move fast, I might lose a great opportunity. I went into town the next day, unhappy with my indecision, but I knew I had to turn Ward away. I couldn’t give Canton over to his control. It was another five years before Lars came along. I didn’t know if I could make my inheritance last long enough to keep the business going and a roof over our heads. But Lars rode up one afternoon, strode into my office with an expression that said, ‘Well, I’m finally here.’”

“What happened with Ward, Father?”

“He’d planned to invest in the bank with worthless bonds. I’d have lost it all if I’d signed with him, Emily.”

“Father, I’m about to be married and you’re speaking to me of worthless men with worthless bonds.” Emily crossed the room to stand with him by the window.

“Sometimes you have to trust your gut.”

“What if that means letting a lot of important people down?”

“Occasionally, we don’t care what others think. You have to do what’s right for you.” Father rocked back and forth on his heels, looking straight ahead.

“How can one tell the difference between cold feet and trusting your gut, Father? How did you know your instincts about Willoughby were correct?”

“That’s called faith. Trusting God.” His voice waffled. “We must be ready to hear from Him and respond, at any moment, no matter what the consequence.”

“Father, please.” Emily pressed on his arm, turning him to her. “What are you really trying to tell me?”

“Emily darling, are you ready?” Mother swept into the room, pretty and young in her crimson and fur gown. She had a Christmas dress made every season and was delighted to wear this year’s for Emily’s wedding. “Howard, Bernadette has been looking for you. Oh, Em, you look absolutely divine.” Mother’s eyes misted. “Your gown is perfect.”

“I’m not wearing this dress, Mother. Unhook me, please.” Emily turned her back to Mother, reaching to remove her cathedral-length veil.

“Not this again, Emily. You’re a grown woman. Stop acting like a child. I declare, you were more behaved when you were three.” Mother fussed, grasping Emily’s hands, then smoothing the veil pins securely in place. “Besides, it’s too late to change.”

Emily smiled at Father. “It’s never too late to change.”



Tim

The July sun seemed closer up on the ridge than down in the city. Tim’s loafer heels clapped against the stone pathway as he walked toward the house through the cool rush of air up from Jones Valley.

It’d been a few years since he’d come up here, but the sight of the stone-and-beam structure got him every time. It was an extension of Red Mountain, coming out of the mountain rock and woodlands.

Skilled hands tamed the wild and crafted nature’s elements into an architectural masterpiece.

He twisted the knob, the heavy walnut door opened, and Tim stepped inside the glass-and-hardwood splendor where natural light lit the entryway. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the valley.

Tim gazed out over the treetops, smiling when his belly dropped, feeling as if he were floating high above the city. It must have been incredible to live here.

The place was an architectural marvel. He’d studied the design in college.

“Hello, may I help you?” Cleo Favorite greeted him. She was a classic southern woman with perfect blond hair and pearls about her neck. “Tim Rose, what brings you up here? Are you bringing my photo back?”

“Not yet. I’m heading to a meeting with it in a few hours.” He knew Cleo from the city’s restoration council. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Colby Ludlow.”

“Don’t see why not.” She regarded him, waiting for more. “I don’t get handsome men up here often. You still engaged?” She chuckled softly and motioned for him to follow her.

“No, ma’am.” Tim followed her along a back hall that curved like a hideaway under the stairs, alongside the kitchen, then burst into a bright, windowed library. His stomach dropped again at the sensation of standing on treetops.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I saw Charlotte Malone up here not too long ago.” Cleo leaned against her desk, crossing her ankles, folding her arms. “Lovely girl.”

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