Chapter 7
DESIRAE
Today is fitting day for some of my models. I want to represent various generations on the runway, so the women coming in today include Mrs. Reilly and Regina. They’ll work perfectly as grandmother and mother of a bride or groom.
Joselyn arrives with Mrs. Reilly, who is gushing with excitement over the charity fashion show.
“You know, I never had the opportunity to see my own child get married.”
It dawns on me that in the ten years I’ve known Mrs. Reilly, we never really talked about her family, other than the fact her husband passed away from cancer many years ago. “I didn’t know you had any children, Mrs. Reilly.”
I watch intently as she gets a melancholy look on her face.
She emits a soft sigh. “My son Christopher passed away a little over forty years ago. He was a young adult, and had his whole life ahead of him.”
I embrace her in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Reilly. I didn’t know. You don’t have to do this if it’s too painful.”
“But I want to do it, dear. It’s for the town.” Her smile returns, as if letting go of the sad memory.
“You’re going to look gorgeous in the dress I have for you.”
“I can’t wait to try it on. Do you also have a nice young man to escort me so I don’t fall?”
Joselyn giggles, and the somber mood passes. “I think that can be arranged. Actually, that’s a grand idea! Desirae, what do you think about asking some of the guys to serve as escorts?”
“Sounds good to me. Will you take care of that, please?”
“Just leave it to me!”
Soon after Joselyn takes Mrs. Reilly home, Regina arrives for her fitting. I’ve selected a burgundy mid-length lace dress for her mother-of-the-bride ensemble, which looks fabulous with her Italian complexion and dark hair.
While she’s in the changing room, Stone arrives unexpectedly.
“What are you doing here?”
I wince, realizing the question came out harsher than I intended, although according to his laugh, I can tell he doesn’t take offense. I’m just glad he can’t see my insides are tingling. I hate the mixed messages my body and my brain are sending me right now.
“I knew you’d be working with the models this morning, so I thought I’d stop by and bring you guys some sustenance.”
He doesn’t even have to tell me what he brought, as the aroma of fresh pastries came right in the door with him, and the boxes with the Seaside Sweets logo are a dead giveaway.
Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.
He sets the boxes down. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got coffee and tea as well.”
Regina enters the showroom in her dress as Stone walks back in. He spots her right away and grins. “Hello, Mom. I would ask what you’re doing here, but I’m guessing you’re going to be in the fashion show, since you’ve got that dress on. It looks great on you, by the way.”
Regina twirls around like a ballerina so Stone can get the full effect. “Thank you, son.”
Did she just call him son? “Wait a minute. Regina—Stone is the son you’ve been trying to introduce me to?”
Regina smiles, clearly not bothered by the fact that she apparently knew who I was going to confront in West Palm that day. “Yes. But now I know you’ve already met.”
Stone looks back and forth between us. “I know this is a small town and all, but how do you two know each other?”
Regina and I speak simultaneously. “We’re neighbors.”
He throws back his head and laughs, the deep baritone causing a pleasant warmth to my insides.
After changing out of the dress, Regina comes back out front and glances at her watch.
“Oh my. Look at the time. I have an appointment, so I’m going to run.
Have a great rest of the day, you two.” She finger wags a wave goodbye, and I don’t believe for a minute that she actually has an appointment elsewhere.
The boutique is suddenly quiet and I realize Stone and I are completely alone. Following an awkward silence, I fill the void.
“Can I show you something? I have a vintage dress collection, including my grandmother’s wedding gown. These dresses are my personal collection, not something I’d ever sell to anyone. I was thinking it might be fun to display some of them at the show.”
“Sure. I’d love to see them.”
I take him back to the storage area where I have a space designated specifically to protect the delicate collection.
The dresses and gowns that can hang without getting damaged are cocooned in special Tyvek garment covers.
Even the velour hangers are covered in the protective material.
The items that are heavy with a lot of adornments are stored in special archival cardboard boxes to protect them from lint, dust, pests, and the glare of lights.
“Wow. You’ve taken great care to protect these.”
I take that as a compliment and I hope I’m not babbling as I try to intelligently respond.
“It’s very important. Vintage clothing can damage so easily if not stored properly.
The storage bags are made of a special material, as well as the boxes and tissue paper.
Anything that touches these garments must be acid-free and pH neutral. Nothing plastic, wood, or metal.”
Stone nods his head. It feels good, seeing that he’s interested in things that are important to me.
I pull out the box containing my grandmother’s gown and open the lid, spreading apart the tissue paper so that Stone can see the intricacy of the embellishments up close. The crystal and pearl beading, along with the sequin accents, sparkle in the overhead light.
“The embroidery around the trim of the gown was done by hand by my grandmother.”
As I reach to point that out to Stone, he touches it at the same time, causing our fingers to brush. The accidental contact sends an unexpected shock of awareness through me. Our eyes meet, and neither of us speaks.
The moment is interrupted when I hear the tinkle of the doorbell. What was I thinking, leaving the front unattended? I probably should have locked it when we came to the back room. “I’ll be right back.”
I rush to the front to greet the visitor, stopping in my tracks once I realize a ghost from my past is standing in my boutique.
“Hello, Desirae.”
“George. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course. It’s been a while. Thought we could catch up.”
My bullshit detector is blaring an internal alarm.
George Payne has an ulterior motive for everything he does.
Like when he wanted to postpone our wedding until we were more financially secure.
That was simply a ruse to buy him some time to pursue a younger, thinner woman.
He’s not here just to catch up. He wants something.
My eyes narrow, and I glare at the man who I once thought I would marry wearing my grandmother’s gown.
I’m not the same person as when I was engaged to George, and he’s certainly not the man he purported to be.
He’s vain, self-centered, and shallow. His unwelcome presence threatens to bring back painful memories that I don’t want to think about again.
It took years for me to regain my self-worth and take back control of my life.
Because of him, I don’t trust easily, and I guard my heart carefully.
I’m not about to lose myself again. To him or any other man.
“I don’t have any interest in catching up with you, George. I’m quite busy right now, and need to get back to work. You can see yourself out.”