by Nancy Warren
She kissed him because even though she was acting crazy he was completely on her side. She thought that a man who would stand by her no matter what was a good man to have in her life.
They met back after work. She'd sketched out a sort of strategy of what she would say when she saw this Tasmine Ford.
Dylan drove, and as they headed toward Venice Beach she asked, “Did you see the woman who brought in the dress?”
“I did.”
“What was she like?”
He took a moment to answer and she imagined he was pulling up a mental file. “She was blonde, nice-looking, cheerleader type. She told Joe that she was in sales and seemed very interested in how the dress would be marketed. She was also the one who brought in all those bridesmaid dresses.” He glanced over at her. “There were like twelve of them. All in her size. She'd been a bridesmaid at more than a dozen weddings.”
“I can't even imagine.”
“I know.”
“And she didn’t steal any of those dresses back?”
“No.”
“What do you think that says about a person? You know the old saying, always a bridesmaid never a bride.”
“I don’t know. She really likes weddings? Has a lot of friends?”
She felt that there was a mystery here and a vital clue was missing. They found the address Tasmine Ford had given and arrived at a nicely kept apartment building. They got out of the car together, like a pair of cops, and approached the intercom pad. She said, “I hope she's home.”
“Have you thought about what you're going to say?”
“I've practiced fifty times.”
They rang the apartment buzzer but there was no answer.
“She could be out.”
“She could be meeting someone who answered her online ad and be selling the dress right at this moment. She probably saw the advertising you were doing and realized she could get the full five grand.”
“We can’t think that way. We have to be positive.”
She let out a huge sigh. “Okay, should we call her?”
He pulled out the printout with Tasmine’s contact info. “She gave two numbers, a cell and her work number.”
They tried her cell first and it went to voicemail. All she learned was that Tasmine Ford had a very nice speaking voice. She could imagine that voice in sales—she sounded enthusiastic and really sorry to have missed Meg’s call. Meg was really sorry too.
She checked the time; it was six o'clock. “Any chance she might still be at work?”
He shrugged. “We can try.”
She dialed the work number and a jovial sounding man picked up. “Crosswells’ Quality Furnishings,” he said. Like Tasmine, he exuded enthusiasm.
“Hello. I'm looking for Tasmine Ford.”
“You won't find her here.”
If she pretended she was a customer, the man on the other end of the phone would try to solve her issue. She put on her friendliest tone. “It's really important that I find her. I'm an old friend from school. “
He chuckled. “You might have to wait until tomorrow to see her at Judge and Mrs. Bailey's place”
“Right,” she said. “Was that in Malibu?”
“No, honey. Manhattan Beach.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Probably see you there.”
Probably see you there? She had no idea what that was about but after thanking the man and hanging up, she said, “She's going to be at some judge’s house tomorrow.”
“Should we call?”
She shook her head. “She works for a furniture place. She’s probably delivering furniture or something. If we catch her at work in front of her customers she’ll be a lot easier to deal with.”
“You’re wasted as an agent. You should be a cop. The bad cop.”
She and Dylan stopped for pizza on the way back to his place. When she got there, June texted her. Did you read the manuscript yet?
She felt guilt mixed with irritation. Why couldn’t she find a roommate who wanted to be a painter or a musician or something she knew absolutely nothing about?
She texted back, I’ll read it this weekend. Have comments by Sunday night.
Saturday, they drove to Manhattan Beach, she and Dylan. She had dressed with care, thinking that if Tasmine was delivering furniture to a judge's house, well, it sounded like it might be a formal sort of place. Besides, she felt that a businesslike transaction needed a businesslike appearance. So, she put on one of her favorite summer dresses. It was blue and she wore it with a cream-colored linen jacket. Dylan was a little more casual in navy slacks and an open-necked shirt.
Finding the address had been as easy as a Google search.
As they drove to Manhattan Beach they strategized. “We won’t accuse her of anything,” Dylan said.
“Of course not. We want to keep her speaking to us. This is purely a negotiation.”
“She was going to get forty percent of five grand. Maybe she realized how much action that dress was getting. Maybe she wants a bigger cut.”
He looked over at Meg and then took her hand. “Let's just offer the full five thousand.”
She smiled at him. “I like the way you said we.”
He shook his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think of us as we. It's too soon, we both know it's too soon, but I want you to have that dress. I think, unless things really change in the next few months, you'll be wearing the dress and I'll be standing at the other end of the aisle watching you walk towards me.”
She felt emotion catching her throat. “Dylan. Are you proposing?”
He gave a nervous laugh and loosened a tie he wasn’t wearing. “It kind of came out that way, didn't it?”
“You don't sound too sure.”
“I don't think I've ever been surer of anything but I want to do this right. We should definitely spend more time getting to know each other but, I think you can consider yourself proposed to.”
She'd always been a cautious woman. But sometimes, like now, she absolutely knew. She said, “Can I consider myself engaged?”
“Are you saying yes?”
She threw her head back against the head rest. “This is the most unromantic marriage proposal in history.”
“I know. It sucks. I don't even have a ring.”
“Well, let’s call ourselves pre-engaged and in a few months we’ll reassess the situation.”
“That sounds very businesslike of you. I accept.”
She felt very close to being the happiest woman on earth, and suspected that if, on the return journey, her wedding dress came with them that she would, in fact, be the happiest person in the world.
When they arrived at Judge Bailey's house, at two in the afternoon she felt a sudden qualm of nerves. “What if she's not here?”
He held her hand reassuringly. “Don't worry. We've got this.”
She checked her hair, added another swipe of lipstick and then decided she was combat ready. They walked up to the door hand-in-hand and Dylan rang the bell.
The door was answered by a young woman wearing a maid’s uniform. He said, “We're looking for Tasmine Ford.”
The woman broke into a smile. “Come, right this way,” she said in a strong Eastern European accent. Instead of inviting them into the house she stepped out. “It was such a beautiful day, they wanted to do it outside.”
She and Dylan exchanged a glance. Wanted to do what outside? The young woman said, “How do you know Tasmine?”
“We went to school together,” Meg said, repeating the same story she’d come up with the day before.
“She seems very nice.”
Meg had no idea whether that was true or not since she'd never actually met the woman but she said, “Yes, she is.” And hoped very much that it was true.
They followed the maid down a path that rounded the Spanish-style mansion and as they came around to the back garden her feet stopped moving and she said, “Oh.”
Ahead of them was a beautifu
l garden and in the middle of the garden stood a white, wooden gazebo. A minister stood there and with him was a gorgeous young man who looked a little like Ryan Gosling. He was wearing a tuxedo. Rows of chairs faced the gazebo and these chairs were filled with an assortment of people all dressed in their best clothes. A harp played softly. “I'll put you on the bride’s side,” the maid said.
Meg was about to say that there had been a terrible mistake, when at some mysterious signal, the harp stopped playing and the unmistakable strains of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ sprang from an orchestra hidden from their view. “Quickly, quickly,” the maid said and ushered them forward.
Meg was so stunned that she sat in the chair the woman assigned her and then the maid scurried back around and inside the house. Dylan leaned in and said softly, “I guess now we know why she wanted the dress.”
Meg almost couldn't look. She didn't want to see her dress being worn by another bride. It seemed all wrong.
A smiling young woman with black hair and a nose ring twinkling in the sun began walking up the grass aisle. She wore a bright-green dress and carried a bouquet made of natural-looking roses that Meg thought might have come from this garden. They had an untamed look very different from a florist’s bouquet. There was only one bridesmaid and then the bride herself appeared.
“That's her,” Dylan whispered. “That's Tasmine Ford.”
That might be Tasmine Ford, but at the first glimpse Meg could see that the bride was not wearing the Evangeline wedding gown.
She sat there, stunned and confused. She couldn't help but notice how truly happy the bride looked. She glanced up at the groom and Meg saw such love on his face that, even though she didn't know these people, she felt her eyes mist with emotion.
The wedding ceremony was simple but beautiful. The couple were both tall and good-looking, but most of all they seemed happy and relaxed with each other. When they said their vows, Dylan slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. She squeezed back. She supposed it was perfect that on the day he had accidentally proposed to her they should find themselves accidentally attending a wedding.
When the minister said, “You may kiss the bride,” she sighed.
The way the groom looked as he turned to his new bride was magical. When they kissed she knew how they felt. It was the way she felt when Dylan kissed her.
The pair walked back down the aisle, husband-and-wife, and Meg stood with the rest of the wedding guests and clapped as enthusiastically as any of them. Then an older man rose from the front row where the family sat and said, “Please join us in the garden room for the reception.” The guests all began to leave their chairs and stream towards an open door where uniformed waiters held trays of champagne.
“What do we do?” asked Meg.
“We came this far. We have to talk to her. We have to find out what she did with that dress.”
“You don't think we should come back tomorrow?” It seemed a little presumptuous to grill the bride on her wedding day about a dress she had not even worn.
He shook his head. “Tomorrow she’ll be on her honeymoon. If she decided not to wear that dress for whatever reason she's probably happy to sell it.”
So, they followed the rest of the guests. Which was a little awkward since they didn't know anyone. But Dylan, as she had noticed, had amazing social skills. Soon they were chatting with another young couple who seemed perfectly happy to accept them. She imagined that people on the bride’s side suspected they were with the groom and people who knew the groom imagined they were the bride’s friends. Fortunately, it wasn't very long before the bride and groom entered the room. Meg could see why Tasmine had chosen the gown that she had.
Unlike the fairytale creation that Evangeline had designed, this dress was much simpler and suited her in a way the designer dress would not. It was a graceful A-line gown with a simple scooped neck. On her statuesque body it looked stunning. Her hair was piled high on her head with tiny rosebuds tucked here and there.
She wore a string of pearls around her neck and, like her bridesmaid, carried a simple bouquet of flowers. But the most amazing feature of her whole outfit was her smile. She had a smile like a movie star’s and she couldn't seem to stop it from breaking out. This woman exuded happiness. Just looking at her made Meg want to smile too.
She and her new husband walked around mingling with their guests. Accepting congratulations and hugs and kisses. The day was so beautiful that the doors were thrown open and many of the guests drifted outdoors. Delaying the inevitable moment when she and Dylan would be discovered to be fraudulent guests she tugged on his arm and they walked outside. The bridesmaid was already there and standing with her was a man who looked vaguely familiar. She sucked in a breath as she realized who it was. “Oh, my gosh, that's Bennett Saegar, the screenwriter.”
“I'd be really impressed if I knew a single screenwriter in Hollywood.” Dylan said.
“He's amazingly talented. And he keeps appearing on the list of the hottest bachelors in LA.”
“I don't think so, not anymore,” Dylan said, and then she noticed the shiny gold band on Bennett's wedding ring finger.
“Wow. He’s married. To the bridesmaid?”
“I think she’s called matron of honor if she’s already married.”
“Look at you with your wedding etiquette.”
She headed towards the couple and Dylan said, “You think he needs an agent?”
“No. I want to tell them how much I love his work.” Then she grinned at him. “And naturally I will mention that I work for a top film and literary agency in case he should happen to need representation.”
She walked up to the couple who seemed almost equally in love as the two that had married today. She said, “Bennett Saegar?”
He turned and gave her the kind of smile that a celebrity gives when he's about to be asked for an autograph. He nodded.
She said, “I'm Megan O'Reilly, we met at the premiere of your last movie. I’m an agent with RGW. I think you're tremendously talented.”
She saw him ease up immediately. Probably because she was someone in the business and not a woman approaching him because of his status as a hot bachelor in LA.
He put an arm around the woman beside him. “I don't think you've met my wife? This is Ashley.”
They shook hands and then she introduced Dylan.
“You must be one of Eric’s friends,” Ashley said, looking at them both with a slightly puzzled expression.
“Eric?”
Her puzzlement turned to suspicion. “Eric Van Hoffendam? The groom?”
“No. I've never met him.”
There was no point in lying to these people and, now that she'd given her name, she felt the only possible course of action was the truth. She said, “We came to see Tasmine. We had no idea there was a wedding going on today and then suddenly found ourselves seated watching the ceremony.”
“Really?”
Ashley didn't call for security, but Meg had the feeling she’d better explain fast. She said, “I know this will sound crazy but she brought a dress into the vintage store where Dylan works. The most beautiful wedding gown you've ever seen. It was designed by Evangeline, you know? The famous wedding gown designer?”
Ashley’s eyes twinkled and she no longer looked as though she were about to call security. “Oh, I know that gown.”
“You do? Do you know what Tasmine did with it?”
“She did exactly what you said she did. She took it to a vintage store in LA.”
Meg shook her head. “She did, but then yesterday she took it away again.”
Ashley looked confused. “I don't think so. You saw the dress she was wearing. It wasn't an Evangeline gown. Her dress is by an up-and-coming local designer that I introduced her to..
“Meg was feeling increasingly baffled when the bride herself, still holding hands with the groom, arrived to stand with their little group.
“Hi,” Tasmine said looking at Meg and Dylan. “You must be Eric's
friends?” She glanced at her husband and he looked plain confused.
It was Ashley who answered, briefly retelling a shortened version of the story that Meg had told her.
Tasmine wrinkled her nose. “Why would I want that dress back?”
Chapter 15
Dylan took out his smartphone and pulled up one of the photos. He held out the phone.
It was one of her favorite pictures from the photo shoot and showed Megan in that gorgeous gown and him slipping the ring on her finger. Tasmine squinted at the phone in the bright light and nodded. “Yes. I brought the dress into your store. I remember you now. And I think your mother said you’d put it in a window display. Between that and this advertising I can't believe it didn't sell.” She glanced at Meg. “You look great in that dress, by the way.”
She didn't seem too worried about not getting her money, more surprised.
“There was a lot of interest in the gown,” Dylan said. “But, you see, Meg wants to buy it. We held onto it because it was bringing a lot of business into Joe's Past and Present and then yesterday someone came in wanting the dress. My aunt was in charge of the store, it was the last hour of business, and she was helping other customers. She took it down from the display window and put it in a changing room and never saw the dress again. Afterwards, she found a note in the dressing room that said, ‘This dress is mine. I'm taking it back.’”
“And you thought that was me?”
“Seemed like a logical conclusion.”
Tasmine smiled wryly. “It was never really my dress. I never thought of it as my dress.” She turned to her matron of honor. “It was Ashley’s dress.”
Ashley had worn the wedding dress? It was strange, but Meg wanted to think that no one but her was meant for that dress.
Ashley shook her head. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t take it. It was a hand-me-down when I got it. In fact, if it's anyone's dress it was the first bride’s. Kate’s.”
Meg felt completely confused. “The first bride? How many are there?”
Ashley sighed. “Well, it all started when Kate Winton- Jones was supposed to marry my cousin, Edward Carnarvon. Evangeline designed that gown for Kate but, frankly, Kate never liked it. It didn’t really suit her. Not the way it looks on you. And Ted Carnarvon turned out to have a bit of a secret life. So, she fell in love with an old friend of Ted’s and they ran off together before the wedding. You keeping up?”