Chapter 10
Ten
The bell above the door of Rosalind’s Bridal Boutique jingled as Charlotte stepped inside, followed by her daughters, their laughter filling the boutique like a melody.
The scent of fresh roses and delicate lace filled the air, mingling with the soft, airy strains of classical music playing in the background.
“Ladies,” Rosalind greeted them with open arms, her face glowing with the warmth of an old friend. “Right on time! Olivia, my dear, the bride-to-be—you’re up first.”
Olivia, with her auburn curls pinned loosely at her shoulders, grinned, excitement lighting up her hazel eyes. “Let’s do this.”
As they gathered on the comfortable couches, an assistant offered glasses of champagne.
Charlotte took a seat on the plush white couch, watching as Olivia disappeared behind a curtain with Rosalind and her team.
Her other daughters—Sophie, the maid of honor, along with Molly, Isobel, and Ruth, perched on the edges of their seats, waiting their turn to try on their selected bridesmaid dresses.
All five of her daughters shared the same auburn-red hair, each with their own unique shade and curl pattern, a striking sight against the ivory gowns and delicate pastels filling the shop.
The boutique bustled with excitable energy as Sophie twirled in front of a mirror, holding up the pale champagne-colored dress Olivia and she chose against her frame.
The dress had a fitted bodice with intricate beadwork, the fabric shimmering subtly under the soft lighting.
“This is going to be perfect, Liv,” she called out, her voice tinged with emotion.
“I still can’t believe you’re finally getting married. ”
Molly stepped into a dusty-rose gown with delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves. “I feel like a princess,” she murmured, smoothing down the flowing chiffon skirt. “Beats scrubs and spit-up.”
Isobel’s dress was a muted sage green with a sweetheart neckline and soft lace detailing along the hem, complementing her fair complexion. She hesitated before stepping in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric nervously. “Does this look okay?”
Ruth, ever the bold one, emerged in a deep burgundy gown with a sleek silhouette. She gave a twirl, her curls bouncing. “You look amazing, Izzy. We all do.”
Sophie looped an arm around Isobel’s shoulders. “We’re a team. And today, we get to celebrate Liv. No nerves, no doubts.”
Charlotte should have been basking in this moment, soaking in the joy and anticipation, but her instincts had always been sharp, and today was no different.
As she turned her head slightly, she caught sight of something outside the shop’s large front window—two men, standing just beyond the parked cars, trying far too hard to look casual. South Dakota Highway Patrol.
Charlotte knew the type well. The stiff posture, the way their eyes flicked toward the shop too often, their clothes just a little too neat, but their boots—the scuffs didn’t match the rest of the story their body language and clothing were trying to tell.
And they were watching her. She now knew how Alex let her go without a fight.
She inhaled sharply but forced a smile as Olivia stepped out from behind the curtain. A collective gasp rippled through the room.
“Liv,” Molly whispered, hand over her mouth.
“You look… stunning.” And she did. The fitted bodice with lace detailing hugged Olivia’s petite frame, the fabric cascading like soft waterfalls around her.
She looked every bit the vision of a bride, her cheeks flushed, her hands clasped together.
“Jackson is going to faint when he sees you.”
Charlotte clapped, shoving her unease aside. “My beautiful girl,” she said, rising from her seat to adjust a bit of lace on Olivia’s shoulder. She refused to let this moment be ruined. This was for her daughters, for their joy.
Outside, the officers remained, silent shadows against the bright late afternoon.
Charlotte felt their presence like an itch at the base of her spine.
But as Olivia turned to her with an expression of pure happiness, her heart melted.
Not today, she thought. Whatever this was, whoever they were waiting for—it wasn’t going to steal this moment from them.
She smoothed Olivia’s veil and smiled, her voice calm and unwavering. “You’re so beautiful.”
The sisters erupted into cheers as Olivia twirled in front of the mirror, admiring herself from every angle. Sophie wiped a tear from her eye before clearing her throat. “Alright, my turn.”
Molly, Isobel, and Ruth followed, slipping into their dresses one by one, their giggles bouncing off the walls. Charlotte watched as her daughters came together, supporting one another, their bond as strong as ever.
Then, Rosalind turned toward Charlotte. “And now, it’s your turn, my dear.”
Charlotte blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Me?” Her dress had come in earlier. But she didn’t plan on being fitted today.
“Of course! The mother of the bride needs to look radiant too,” Rosalind said with a knowing smile, leading her toward the fitting room.
Charlotte hesitated, not wanting to leave her daughters, but she stepped inside, letting the curtain fall closed behind her.
When she emerged, she wore a sleek navy gown, the fabric hugging her frame in all the right places, the beaded neckline catching the light.
She turned toward the mirror, taking in the sight of herself.
“Mom,” Olivia breathed, her eyes welling up. “You look so beautiful.”
A lump rose in Charlotte’s throat as she met her daughter’s gaze. “So do you, my love. Your dad would be so proud of all of you.” The lump sat heavy in her throat.
Despite the watchful eyes outside, this was all that mattered.
Holding hands, they left the shop and headed to a nearby restaurant. As they settled into its welcoming curved booth, plates of warm pasta, fresh salads, and crusty bread arrived. The conversation was light, filled with laughter and wedding plans.
But then Olivia leaned toward her, eyes glistening with something more than joy. She gently placed a hand on Charlotte’s arm, drawing her attention away from the giggles.
“Mom, I wanted to ask you before I do anything,” Olivia said, her voice soft but with an intensity she showed when her mind was set on something. She hesitated, looking for the right words, as if the question was a long time coming.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her smile gentle but curious. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Olivia took a deep breath, clearly gathering her courage. “Turk is going to marry us.” Turk was Jackson’s best friend and a fire department battalion chief. “You know Turk. He’s been a huge part of Jackson’s life, and I think it’s going to be perfect.”
Charlotte smiled warmly. “I think it’s wonderful Turk is going to marry you. He’s like family.”
Olivia smiled in return, but there was something different in her expression now—something more vulnerable. “I was wondering, though,” she continued, her voice just above a whisper, “if you’d mind if I asked Alex to walk me down the aisle.”
Charlotte blinked, startled by the request. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard her daughter correctly. She hadn’t been expecting this.
She looked into Olivia’s eyes, searching for a sign there was something she didn’t understand. But Olivia’s face was serious. Earnest. Her request came from a place of deep love and trust.
"Alex?" Charlotte echoed, her voice a little more fragile than she intended.
Olivia nodded, her hands gently clasped in front of her.
“Yes, Mom. He’s been so good to all of us.
And he loves you. I’ve watched how he cares for you, how he’s been there for you and for us, even when we didn't ask him to be. And I know you’ve been through so much—especially with Dad’s passing.
But Alex, he’s not trying to replace anyone.
” She paused, taking Charlotte’s hands in hers.
“I just... I think it would mean a lot to both of us, and I wanted to ask you before I ask him. If that’s okay with you. ”
Charlotte’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She was overcome with emotion. The weight of Olivia’s words, the sincerity, the care, and the love behind them, filled her in a way she hadn’t prepared for. For a second, her breath caught in her throat.
She closed her eyes as if to steady herself and exhaled slowly. When she opened them again, Olivia was still waiting, watching her with those hopeful eyes.
Her heart swelled. Olivia wasn’t just asking about a tradition.
She was asking about acceptance, about the future, about what Alex had become in their lives.
Charlotte realized, with startling clarity, how far they had come.
She thought of her daughters’ dismay when they first started seeing each other.
Charlotte was twenty-two years Alex’s senior.
Her voice was a little shaky, but when she spoke, it was full of warmth.
“Olivia,” she reached out to cup her daughter’s face, “you know I love you with all my heart. Alex... he’s been my rock.
I trust him. I want him to be there for you, for you both, on your big day.
And I think... I think he’d be honored.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
“But more than that—” her voice wavered, “I’m proud of you.
I’m proud of all of you. For seeing him for who he truly is.
And you’re right, Olivia. He can’t replace your father.
But he’s become something else to me—a part of my life I can’t imagine not having. ”
Olivia’s eyes brimmed with tears as she pulled her mother into a tight hug. Charlotte held her daughter close, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her love pressing against her.
“Thank you, Mom,” Olivia whispered into her shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”
Charlotte kissed the top of Olivia’s head and pulled back just enough to look at her. “Of course I am. It’s not just about the tradition, sweetheart. It’s about what’s in our hearts, and I’m so glad you’re letting Alex be part of this moment. I’m so proud of you, of both of you.”
“Thank you,” Olivia’s voice was thick with emotion. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, darling. More than you know.”
Charlotte wiped at her eyes, feeling the calm warmth of peace settling inside her. This went beyond a wedding. It was a healing. A coming together.
A hostess approached, carrying a bouquet of pale pink, yellow and white roses. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She set the bouquet down in front of Charlotte. “These were just delivered for you.”
Charlotte’s smile faltered. “Who sent them?”
The waitress turned and gestured toward the bar. “A man over there…” She turned, looking around. “Wait…he’s gone.”
A hush fell over the table as Charlotte slowly reached for the small card tucked between the stems. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, holding it by the edges. The words were written in sharp, deliberate script: You’re the only one who can do this, Charlotte.
A chill ran down her spine. Olivia snatched the card from her hands. “Mom, what—” She read it quickly, her face darkening. “He sent this.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain composed. “Everybody relax. I need to make a call.”
Waverly County police swarmed the restaurant. The HPB plainclothes officer broke cover and joined the women.
After speaking with Jackson, Olivia, steady and composed, took control, gathering the facts with precision. Her voice cut through the quiet hum of the restaurant, bringing order to the whirlwind of activity.
After a quick trip to her car by one of the officers, Molly had already preserved the card and flowers, her gloved hands handling the evidence with care. A neatly labeled bag sat beside her, crisp handwriting on the tag.
At a nearby table, Izzy leaned forward, her brow furrowed as she pieced together a psychological profile.
Sophie sat beside her, flipping through a small notebook, whispering observations as they connected threads of behavior and intent.
Their teamwork was seamless, one interpreting, the other verifying, their minds moving faster than their pens.
With an officer in tow, Ruth weaved through the café with quiet authority, her presence commanding.
She stopped at each table, pen poised over her notepad as she coaxed details from wary patrons.
A woman in a green dress twisted her napkin anxiously, recalling what she had seen.
A bartender behind the counter furrowed his brow, recounting how the card and flowers were left behind.
Every statement added a new layer to the puzzle, but the picture remained frustratingly incomplete.
Brad, Alex, Ethan, and Noah slipped into the booth from both sides, surrounding Charlotte, their movements gentle, their expressions tense. She remained eerily quiet, her fingers laced together in her lap, her eyes fixed on the tabletop as if searching for answers in the grain of the wood.
The restaurant buzzed with a mix of curiosity and unease. Conversations were hushed, eyes darting toward the booth. And then, Charlotte finally spoke.