The Wedding Dress(98)

“We heard you offered Mary Grace your wedding dress, and while we appreciate your kindness, we won’t be needing your charity.”

Mary Grace rolled her back against the porch post and closed her eyes. Don’t embarrass us, Mama.

“It’s not charity, Mrs. Fox. It’s a gift.”

“A gift? We don’t even know you. Mary Grace waits on you at Loveman’s counter. Begging your pardon, but an extravagant gift such as a wedding dress to a girl you hardly know, who serves you, is charity.”

“Vie,” Daddy rumbled.

Mary Grace peeked around the post, expecting to see Mrs. Ludlow’s back as she left. But she remained steadfast on the dirt path. She’d tucked Daddy’s ten dollars into her sock and when she moved, it scraped against her ankle.

After what seemed like forever, she said, “Then I’ll sell you the dress.”

Mama’s cheeks reddened. “We can’t afford your kind of gown, Mrs. Ludlow. Tell me, did you intend to drive up here and humiliate us, or is this just spur of the moment?”

“Seems to me you’re the one humiliating yourself, Mrs. Fox. I come bearing a gift, and you’re refusing it. It’s not good enough for you?”

“See here—”

“I offer to sell it and you tell me it’s too expensive. You’ve not even heard the price.”

“All right, tell us the price and don’t say a dollar. That’s more insulting than charity.” Mama went down the steps to face off with Mrs. Ludlow.

Daddy just shook his head.

“Mama, please, can’t we just accept—”

“Ten dollars.” The amount burst into the air and hit Mary Grace’s heart with a one-two punch. Mrs. Ludlow repeated the amount. “I’m asking ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars?” Mama scoffed. “For a fancy, society wedding dress?”

“That’s my price.” Mrs. Ludlow raised her chin. “It seems like a fair price. I wore it once. Didn’t get a spot on it. Had it special made by Taffy Hayes.”

“The colored gal what sews for you?” Mama lowered her chin and tucked her hands into her pockets. “Naw, naw, no. Not even for ten dollars.” She set her jaw, hard.

“I’ll take it. I have ten dollars, Mrs. Ludlow.” Mary Grace skidded toward her, taking the bill from her sock and unfolding it. She glanced back at Daddy. His eyes brimmed and glistened.

“Mary Grace, no . . . now, where did you get ten dollars?” Mama reached for the money but Mary Grace moved her hand away. “Did you hear who sewed that dress?”

“Yes, and I don’t care. Daddy gave me the money.” Oh, Lord, thank you.

“Taffy is the best dress designer in this city. Maybe in all of the south. You’re lucky to have one of her dresses.” Mrs. Ludlow took the money. “Now, a deal is a deal.” She offered Mary Grace her hand. “Miss Fox, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Same to you, Mrs. Ludlow.” She had a gown. Mrs. Ludlow’s gown. Specially made. Mary Grace was smiling so wide she didn’t dare look at Mama.

“Mr. Fox, do you mind?” Mrs. Ludlow held up her car keys. “The dress is in the back of my car.”

Daddy stamped out his cigarette and took the keys as he passed the women.

“Mrs. Fox, your daughter is a special girl. It’s my privilege to give her the dress I wore for my wedding. Daniel and I have been very happy. Take it with joy.”

Mama sniffed, biting her lower lip. And said nothing.

“We are very much alike, Mrs. Fox,” Mrs. Ludlow said. “Women who live and breathe in this town, who want good for our husbands and children and our community. I’m standing here now, woman to woman, wanting to bless your daughter. I have no daughters of my own, and for quite some time, I’ve admired Mary Grace. I suppose that’s a compliment to you, Vie.”

Daddy walked by with a trunk on his shoulders. “Sure this thing ain’t empty? It’s light as a feather. Vie, you got any iced tea in the kitchen? I’m parched.”

“I assure you, the dress is inside.” Mrs. Ludlow turned for her car. “Mary Grace, it’s yours now. And here, Mr. Fox, thank you for helping me with my trunk.” Mrs. Ludlow offered her hand. When Daddy took it, she smiled, pressing her fingers hard against his palm. “Now, Mary Grace, it’s no ordinary dress. A very special dress to me and to the woman who made it for me. Wear it with love. I wish you the best.”

As she drove away, Mama remained planted on the path, a thin skirting breeze yanking her hem and dusting dirt over her brown shoes.

“Mama?”

She didn’t move, but stood there, trembling, fingers pressed to her lips, tears filling her eyes. Mary Grace slipped her arm around her waist and set her head on her shoulder.

“I won’t wear it if you don’t want me to.”

“Goodness.” Mama came alive. “You just paid the woman ten dollars, Mary Grace. Do you think I’m going to let the dress rot in that trunk? And if it was good enough for Mrs. Ludlow to wear, sewn by a colored, then it’s good enough for you, I guess.” She wiped her face with her work-hardened hands. “Now, let’s go see this work of art. I’ll have to get sewing on it, fix it up. She’s been married a good twenty-five years so no telling the shape it’s in.”