Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The next morning, Angela pulled into a parking spot in front of the bridal shop earlier than planned.
Brad’s sister, four years younger than he, usually had things timed to the minute.
I assumed that came from having a husband and two teenage sons involved in sports, as well as nurturing her gardens and caring for two horses.
Angela and I looked forward to becoming sisters-in-law. We got along well, and I admired her carefree spirit and positive perspective on things. We could volley ideas and speak our minds, which made for a good friendship.
We laughed about wearing similar outfits for our drive to Berwyn. We both had on denim capris, short-sleeved knit tops that seemed perfect for a sunny September day, and casual wedge espadrilles.
“Are you ready?” she asked, turning off the ignition.
Feeling nervous, I said, “I just hope the gown fits.”
“It will,” she assured me. “It only needed a nip and a tuck.”
For some reason, her description gave me the giggles, but I regained control as we headed inside. I’d selected a simple, white sheath gown with a side slit at the left knee which, she declared, looked sexy on me. Her gown, in royal blue, with its V-neck and low back, was perfect for her.
We took a seat in the waiting area. “Has Heather picked out her gown yet?”
“I don’t know. She’s on another trip with Wyatt, but she’ll be home soon. I hope she remembers to select something in royal blue.”
“Can’t you remind her?” she asked.
“I did, before they left, but I didn’t want to pester her.”
She nodded. “Right. I’m sure it’ll work out. Where’d they go this time?”
“Casablanca in Morocco.”
“Really? Wow!”
“I know, right? She should have the travel-writing job, not me.”
“She’s a painter; you’re a blogger,” Angela said with a shake of her head. “Start with Harrisburg, and you’ll soon be traveling to Timbuktu, or wherever you decide to go.”
I smiled. “Baby steps, right?”
“That’s what they say,” she replied reassuringly.
We watched as a young woman stepped from the dressing room in an elaborate wedding gown, pirouetting in front of a lady I suspected to be her mother. The dress, with its swishing bell skirt and flounces at the bustline, overemphasized the girl’s voluptuous curves in an unbecoming manner.
She danced around the full-length mirror, looking at her reflection from all directions. “This is the one!” she exclaimed.
When the other woman agreed, I surreptitiously knocked Angela’s arm and she slowly shook her head. We waited for them to finish, knowing we’d arrived early, and I could only hope I had better sense.
The seamstress called Angela first, perhaps because she’d needed fewer “nips and tucks,” and she looked stunning when she stepped from the dressing room. “What do you think?” she asked.
“You’re a beautiful Matron of Honor,” I said admiringly.
“Does the back dip down too low?”
I took a closer look. “No, the gown is perfect.”
“Would you take a picture of me?”
I took several photos with my phone and showed them to her. She nodded at each one, then grinned. “I look good!”
I laughed. “Yes, you do.”
The seamstress and I followed her to the dressing room and helped her remove the dress, then they assisted me. My mother had suggested that I wear the gown from my first wedding, but I couldn’t. It would bring bad Karma, I told her. She didn’t get it.
This time, I wanted simplicity. I’d have no lace, no flounce, and no jewels; just free-flowing satin that swayed when I moved, caressing my body. As it slipped over my head and fell into place, I knew I’d made the right choice.
The wedding gown looked great. Angela knew I didn’t want a veil, yet thought I needed something symbolic on my head for the occasion.
While I inspected the fit of my dress, she searched the showroom for some sort of hat, and returned with a beautiful head band highlighted by soft floral leaves and tulle netting.
“Try this,” she suggested.
The woman doing the fitting gave her strong approval. “You should wear your hair in an uplift, then the mini-veil would look perfect with this gown.”
I pulled my hair back and up before adding the head piece, then looked in the mirror. Angela stepped back, viewing me from all directions. “Wow!” she exclaimed, reaching for her phone to take pictures.
I smiled, saying, “It looks pretty good.”
Ecstatic, we each carried our wedding day outfits to the car after making our final payments. “I can’t wait to show Mike,” she said excitedly, pressing the key fob to unlock our doors.
“He’s going to love it!”
She giggled. “That’s for sure.” As we buckled our seatbelts she added, “Don’t let Brad see your gown before the wedding.”
“I know, but send me the pictures so I can text them to my parents.”
“Already done,” she said, pressing the ignition. “Now, how do I get to Charlie’s Diner? I’m starving!”
On the way, I told Angela about the people at Charlie’s Diner who had guided me through five years of grief.
Pop, the owner, and his wife, Lucky, worked in the kitchen; Goldie managed the front while serving patrons at the counter.
“I waitressed at the tables from four until closing, and it’s where I met Heather Archer. ”
“Why did you leave?” she asked.
“Everything in my world seemed to collide, all at once. The woman who replaced me in my job at the publishing firm invited me to come for a meeting in Philadelphia, so I took the train from Paoli. To my surprise, she offered me the travel job—a remote position with full benefits.”
“Did she know you were grieving the loss of your husband and son?”
“Yes, and she was very understanding, but she knew I wrote a blog for grieving widows. When her boss wanted a travel blog for the women’s magazine, she immediately thought of me.”
“That makes sense. Besides knowing how to write a blog, you understood the magazine’s objectives.”
“Right, but I didn’t want to travel. I told her I’d think about it, then left. I mentioned it to Pop and Lucky, and they thought I should take the job because they didn’t pay my health insurance.”
She nodded. “That’s so darn expensive.”
“Unbelievably, though I had managed to pay the monthly premium by keeping other expenses under control.”
“What changed your mind about the job?”
“Fate. When I left the firm, I moved to Chester County and rented a small home, not far from your old stomping grounds. It was quiet, and I could enjoy nature while I poured out my grief in my online blog with others going through something similar.”
She nodded, urging me to continue.
My memories bombarded me. “I opened a letter from my landlord who wrote that I had thirty days to relocate because he’d sold the property. Can you believe it?”
“That must have been a shock.”
“It was, and I didn’t know what to do or where to go. You have to realize, I wasn’t in a good place emotionally. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other.”
“Then you met Heather?”
“Yes, she happened to eat at the diner, and we got talking. She’d just inherited Bertha’s house and wanted to sell it, but didn’t know where to start since it was full of junk.”
Angela smiled nostalgically. “My grandfather’s home.”
“Exactly, but she had no background information about the house, other than Bertha used it as a consignment shop. Heather wanted no part of it, and she offered me free rent if I’d clear out the place.”
“Just when you needed somewhere to live.”
I nodded, thinking back to that moment in time.
“It felt like a miracle or kismet, or whatever you want to call it, and I accepted her request. Once I got involved with the clean-out, though, I knew I needed to let go of something. Since Pop couldn’t pay my health insurance, I decided to take the travel job. ”
She smiled. “That’s a great story—and I know the rest since it involves my brother.”
“Did he tell you I hired him to move my furniture to the apartment behind Bertha’s Bounties? That’s how we first met.”
“He’s a handy guy,” she chuckled.
“Yes, he is.” I pointed out her upcoming turn from route 30, then she parked in the lot. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I remarked, “It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the food’s great.”
“More importantly, the people inside gave you the strength to move forward in life.”
Her words perfectly expressed what Charlie’s Diner meant to me. I pulled open the outer door to hear Goldie exclaim from behind the counter, “Well, look what the cat dragged in!”
I laughed. “Good to see you again, Goldie. Did you get the invitation to my wedding?”
“Yes, and congratulations. You could have knocked me over with that one.”
“This is my fiancé’s sister, Angela, and we plan to stay for lunch today. Are Pop and Lucky in the kitchen?”
“Where else would they be?” she quipped. “Do you want a booth or the counter?”
I sensed she wanted to gab, yet I turned to Angela. “Which would you prefer?”
“I used to love sitting at Woolworth’s counter when I was a little girl.”
“Counter it is,” Goldie announced before putting menus at two places. Her front gold tooth sparkled when she grinned.
“We’ll be right back,” I told her. “I want Angela to meet Pop and Lucky.”
“They’ll be happy to see you,” she noted. “Just so you know, we plan to attend your wedding and reception.”
I smiled enthusiastically. “That makes me happy.”
The love and support at Charlie’s Diner were palpable, and I felt as if I’d come home.