Chapter 1 #2
“Let me make arrangements for a place for you to stay...” Mary began, but he shook-his head.
“Don’t worry about me, ma’am,” he said. “I’ve already taken care of that. I promised Louisa I’d drop off the first present as soon as I got here, but then I’ll make myself scarce.”
“The first present?”
“It’s a tradition in one of the nomadic tribes Louisa and her husband used to travel with. The bride receives gifts from a wise woman every day for a week before the wedding. I left the first one in the hallway.”
“But I haven’t offered you any refreshment,” Mary protested. “What about dinner tonight...?”
“I’ll just see to myself, ma’am, but thank you, anyway. I’ll come by tomorrow with the next present if you don’t have any objections. Louisa’s counting on me.”
“And you seem very reliable, Mr. Wyczynski,” Mary said warmly.
“Call me Jake. It’s a hell of a lot easier on the tongue. Nice meeting you, Susan.”
He was the epitome of old-fashioned courtesy, distant and charming. “Thanks for the dress,” she said.
“Anytime.”
The moment she heard the front door close she let the dress fall on the floor, stepping out of it and kicking it away from her. “There’s no chance it can be fixed in time, is there?” she asked her mother in a hopeful voice when Mary returned.
“I doubt it He did a thorough job of mangling it.”
“Bless his heart,” Susan said cheerfully. “I wonder if he’s got a suit he can wear for the wedding? That big-white-hunter gear might look a little strange for an afternoon garden wedding.”
“He’s not going to fit in, anyway, Susan,” Mary said with a trace of sharpness in her voice. “I don’t know why you’d worry about such things.”
“I’m not worried. He’s very colorful.”
“He’s very handsome,” her mother said.
“Is he? I didn’t notice.”
“You never could lie to me, Susan.”
Susan smiled ruefully. “No, I couldn’t Yes, he’s gorgeous, but as you know, he’s hardly my type. I tend to go for more civilized men, like Edward. And besides, he didn’t show the faintest bit of interest in me, at least, not as a woman.”
“You’re engaged to be married, Susan. He’d hardly be flirting with you.”
“He did rip my dress off. Bless him,” she added. “Don’t look so worried, mother. I’m not about to change my mind about Edward at this late date. He and I were meant for each other, and we’ve known that since we were in college. This is an entirely logical next step in our relationship.”
“And you’ll give me entirely logical grandchildren before long?”
“Don’t hold your breath. Edward thinks we should be more settled in our careers.”
Mary’s smile seemed a little tight. “And Edward’s always right.”
“Yes, he is. One of his annoying habits.” Susan pulled on a faded pair of jeans and an old cotton sweater. “Don’t worry, I know you adore him. There’ll be plenty of grandchildren soon enough. I’ve only just begun to hear my biological clock ticking.”
“You have?” Mary looked oddly hopeful. “I didn’t know you’d even thought about children.”
“I’ve thought about them. I’ll be ready when Edward is.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Mary said in an even voice. “In the meantime, what are we going to do about this dress?” She scooped it off the floor and shook it. “I don’t mind telling you I’d rather not be the one to spring the word on Vivian. She’s even more formidable than her son.”
“She is, isn’t she? Edward’s a pussycat if you know how to handle him, and he absolutely idolizes you. Mother. People only think he’s a barracuda because he’s a Wall Street lawyer. He’s perfect husband material, and we’re going to be deliriously happy.”
“Of course you are,” Mary said, her back turned.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find some way to tell Vivian about her dress. Not right away, though—she’s capable of finding someone who can fix the wretched thing on short notice. In the meantime we’ve got to figure out what I’ll wear. I imagine I can find something off the rack if I have to.”
“Let’s have a cup of tea and see what Louisa has sent you. She always had the most extraordinary taste,” Mary said. “We can worry about a dress later.”
“We have five days. Mother.”
“An hour won’t make any difference one way or the other. And I’m making you herbal tea. You’re getting too cranky,” Mary said smartly.
“No honey,” Susan said.
“You’re too thin already,” Mary overruled her. “You’ll have honey and cake. I’m your mother and I still have some rights.”
“Yes, Mother,” Susan said meekly.
The box was in the hallway where he’d left it. It was fiat and rectangular, covered with crumpled brown paper, tied with string, looking rather as if it had been through the wars and back. Susan hefted it, surprised at how light it was.
“What do you suppose it could be?” She carried it into the living room of her mother’s neat little house and sat on the floor with it One of the first things Susan planned on doing after her marriage was to move her mother to better, more elegant surroundings, preferably the sprawling faux Tudor mansion that Edward had bought for them.
She didn’t expect to run into any opposition from her new husband—Edward was in awe of his delicate, future mother-in-law, and he was as practical about their marriage as Susan was.
The house was huge—there was no reason why they couldn’t share it.
“Something interesting, I have no doubt,” Mary said, handing her a pair of scissors.
It took Susan less than a minute to rip off the layers of wrapping to expose the box beneath it. It was a dressmaker’s box, very old, with a card taped on top of it. Even though she’d never met her legendary godmother, Susan recognized her handwriting.
She opened the note. “A token of your family’s past, my dear. Despite what they tell you, good things happen to those who wear this.”
“Cryptic as ever,” Maty said, reading it over her shoulder. “Let’s see what she’s sent you. Probably some East Indian shroud of some sort.”
Susan opened the box, pushing away the layers of tissue paper to expose yards and yards of creamy white satin.
“Oh, my heavens,” Mary cried, and sank into a nearby chair.
Susan cast a curious glance at her mother as she pulled the dress out It was a wedding dress made of rich, glossy satin, cut like a gown for a medieval princess, with laced-up sleeves and bodice and a long sweep of skirt.
It had to be the most beautiful, unsuitable dress she’d ever seen, and she loved it.
She turned to her mother. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.
“It’s Tallulah’s wedding dress,” Mary said in a faint voice. “I always wondered what happened to it.”
Susan rose, holding the dress up against her long body, unable to resist the impulse. It flowed against her, draping in graceful folds. “She must have been tall.”
“She was. Tallulah towered over almost everyone. She looked so beautiful in that dress.” Mary’s voice caught for a moment. “Imagine Louisa having it all this time.”
Susan stared at her reflection for a long, meditative moment. “It’s obviously a sign,” she said finally. “I’m meant to wear this dress.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Susan!” her mother protested, shocked. “You can’t possibly! It’s bad luck. There’s too much history....”
“Why? She didn’t die in the dress, did she? You told me she was killed in a train wreck on her honeymoon.”
“Her honeymoon hadn’t even started,” Mary said quietly. “They were on their way to New York to begin their trip to England. They were going to spend several months just touring Europe when it happened.”
“You mean she didn’t even have a wedding night?”
“No,” Mary said shortly.
“She died a virgin? How completely depressing!”
Her mother cast her a stern glance. “Your generation didn’t invent sex, you know.”
“You mean Aunt Tallulah did the nasty with Neddie Marsden? Hard to believe, looking at him now. I can’t believe anyone would want to sleep with him.”
“Your aunt Tallulah was an original, Susan. She always followed her own heart, and if she loved someone, she loved them wholeheartedly, without reservation,” Mary said. “She was never one to be bound by the restrictions of society.”
“Even though she was an Abbott of Connecticut?” Susan asked, running a reverent hand along the rich, creamy satin.
“Most particularly because she was an Abbott of Connecticut.”
“I still can’t see a free spirit like her married to a stuffed shirt like Ned Marsden. Or maybe it was her premature death that turned him into such a turnip.”
“I’m afraid Neddie Marsden was always a turnip,” Mary admitted. “His second wife is much better suited to him. He’d probably prefer to forget all about Tallulah.”
“His lost love,” Susan murmured. “It’s so romantic.”
“I was a nine-year-old who lost her beloved older sister,” Mary said. “I didn’t find it the slightest bit romantic.”
Susan bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Mother. I’m not usually so self-absorbed. I know you still miss her,”
“Never mind, dear.” Mary came and stood behind her, staring down at the dress with a faraway expression. “It’s in the past, where it belongs. But how extraordinary that Louisa would have this dress.”
“You told me she was Aunt Tallulah’s best friend. That was why you made me her goddaughter, even though she’s never even seen me.”
“Exactly,” Mary said. “So it shouldn’t come as any surprise, really.” She touched the thick satin. “Are you going to try it on, then?”
Susan hesitated, torn. “I shouldn’t...”
“Of course you should. I think you’re right—it’s a sign. Why else would it show up today of all days? If it fits, you have my blessing. I’m sure it’s what Louisa had in mind, the old devil.”
“But what about the rest of the family?”
“No one will remember. Most everyone at that wedding is dead by now—after all it was fifty years ago. And I think Tallulah would want you to wear it.” She reached down and picked it up, shaking out the folds. “I don’t think it even needs pressing.”
It slid over her body like warm water, accentuating her slender curves, Sowing down her long legs. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and she looked like a lost princess, wistful and serene. She looked like someone she’d known, long ago, a secret girl inside her woman’s heart.
“It fits,” she said. She picked up the soft drape of the skirt and let it fall through her fingers. “I’m wearing it.”
And she imagined, somewhere in heaven, her wild aunt Tallulah laughed.