The Bowen Bride

by Nicole Burnham

  Katie smiled past Jared, toward a framed copy of the article, which he now noticed adorned the wall beside the three-way mirror. “Well, thank you. I thought it was a wonderful piece. My grandmother would’ve loved it. This shop used to be hers.”

  Ah. So that’s how he’d gotten the image of an older woman into his head. Her picture, rather than Katie’s, ran beside the article.

  Katie’s gaze flicked toward the door, as if a movement caught her notice. Before turning her attention back to Jared, she stepped between him and the door, then leaned her hip against the counter. The subtle change of position was enough to block a passerby from seeing the customers in the shop. Without looking, Jared knew who had to be walking past. Either one of the Montfort sisters, who ran the deli three doors down, or Fred Winston, delivering mail while simultaneously collecting his daily allotment of gossip.

  There were days he hated that facet of life in Bowen. Apparently, Katie understood his concern for privacy, which scored her bonus points, though not quite enough to make up for the Gazette article. Five bucks said the paper took the content straight out of a press release she’d sent them.

  He yanked his flattened leather wallet from the back pocket of his Levi’s. He needed to fork over his credit card for the dress and get out of there before he became the topic of town gossip. He’d bring up the whole thing with Mandy again tonight, and if he approached it the right way, maybe she’d stop being mad at him long enough to remember she loved him.

  Because if she remembered she loved him, maybe she’d realize he loved her, too, and that even though he strongly disagreed with her, he would always do the right thing—like pay for her wedding gown—no matter what the circumstances. He needed to regain her trust long enough to get her to listen to him, slow down for one minute, and decide on her own that marriage at seventeen wasn’t a smart move, after all.

  “How about this” —Katie pulled out a ledger— “let me get your address and phone number. If Mandy does come in, and if she decides she’d like me to make her gown, we’ll talk about money then. Generally, I take one-third deposit when we agree on the style and fabric, a third when we do the first fitting, and the rest when the gown is finished.”

  “Sounds fine to me.” He’d hoped to have the task over and done with as soon as possible, like yanking a splinter from his palm, but apparently that wasn’t how one bought a wedding dress. This was going to be more like removing a bunch of splinters. He’d have to go over the area with tweezers several times before all the pieces emerged and the process of healing could begin.

  After Katie took down his information, she asked, “So they’re still talking about the wedding date? Nothing’s set?”

  “Nothing firm.” At least, he hoped not.

  “That’s fine. If you can let me know once it’s finalized, that’ll help with scheduling. Things can get tight, especially during the summer.” She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but stopped herself.

  “What is it?” Against his better judgment, he leaned forward, putting one hand on the worn countertop. Beneath it, the cabinet frame wobbled slightly.

  He shouldn’t have opened his mouth—it would just mean staying in her shop longer. But now that his task was accomplished and the knot twisting his gut had eased somewhat, he realized that standing in the air-conditioning, talking to an incredibly good-looking woman— how had he not noticed her around town before?—might be worth a five-minute delay in arriving at work. Nothing would ever come of it, but every once in a while he craved the freedom to talk—just talk—to a woman other than his sister-in-law or daughter about nothing in particular.

  She hesitated. “Can I ask something personal?”

  “Go ahead,” he replied, though his brain automatically retorted, No, Mandy's mother isn’t going to be involved in the wedding. But Katie probably knew that already, or at least knew from the mailman, Mandy’s mother wasn’t in the picture and hadn’t been for years. The dressmaker was going to ask the question anyway, though. People always asked about Mandy’s mother. Everyone had loved Corey when she’d lived in Bowen.

  “Who’s Mandy marrying?”

  “Oh.” Not the question he was expecting. “Kevin Durban.”

  Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. Shows you how fast time flies. I thought Kevin was still in high school. How old is he now? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

  “He’s seventeen. Mandy, too.” Kevin was still in high school, for another nine months, anyway.

  The knot returned to Jared’s gut. He hated thinking about the whole thing, let alone talking about it, but Katie would figure out Mandy’s age pretty quickly once the teen sashayed into the shop, fantasizing about marriage despite the backpack full of BC Calculus and AP Physics homework slung over her shoulder.

  He wanted to stay and chat with Katie about anything other than Mandy and Kevin, but unsure of how he could turn the conversation to something more interesting—like why Katie had gone to Boston, what she’d thought of life in a busy city, or what had made her return—he thanked her, told her he had to get back to work, then did a quick scoot out the door.

  It wasn’t until the warm autumn air hit his face that he realized Katie hadn’t made any of the comments he’d expected to hear, either the positive comments about young love being a wonderful thing or the not-quite-negative ones about how she was sure Mandy and Kevin loved each other very much.

  He wondered if Katie was the type to keep her true thoughts to herself or if she planned to discuss them later with her neighbors. Normally, he wouldn’t care. He’d been the subject of gossip often enough. But for Mandy’s sake, he hoped Katie was the type to keep the wedding plans private. Mandy might still change her mind about marrying Kevin. But if the whole town already knew about their plans, she might not reconsider. She would get even more caught up in her wedding fantasy, not to mention that her pride might drive her to go through with it just to save face.

  And maybe he hoped Katie’d keep mum for his sake, too. Deep down, he wanted to believe a woman like Katie Schmidt could be the upstanding type.

  He grabbed the armrest on his pickup and groaned inwardly at the tinny squeak of the hinges as he pulled the door shut. He jammed his key into the ignition and turned it, but kept his foot on the brake, allowing a silver sedan to pull into the spot next to him before he moved the truck. Inside the sedan, he spotted Amy Cranders and her older sister, Joan. Two more single Bowen women now off the market, since Joan had married last month and Amy was now engaged. Not that he’d have dated either of the Cranders, but seeing them pull up to the dress shop made him wonder if life had passed him by.

  Raising Mandy on his own meant that dating hadn’t been a priority. How bad would things be with Mandy now if he had gone on anything more than a casual date these last years? If he hadn’t given Mandy every ounce of his energy once he left work each evening? If he’d allowed himself to just be himself, and asked out women like Katie Schmidt whenever the urge struck?

  Jared snorted aloud. Since when had he gotten introspective about this stuff?

  Probably when he’d flipped over the calendar this morning to see the date.

  “You’re doing the right thing, birthday boy,” he said to himself in an attempt to shake his mood. He backed the pickup onto Main Street, then shifted into drive and headed to work.

  “You finally getting new cabinets installed, Katie?”

  It’d been six hours since Jared Porter’s strange visit, but apparently Fred Winston had been thinking about it ever since slowing his walk to stare through her front window.

  Not that she hadn’t been thinking about Jared’s visit. It wasn’t as if men dropped into her shop regularly asking to buy gowns, let alone a man as handsome and hard-hewn as Jared Porter.

  If they had met before, it would have been years ago, and probably only in passing. She’d have remembered the wavy hair and startling blue eyes, not to mention his height. He had to be at least six-three, and the man was nothing but packed mu
scle. If she’d known a guy like that when she was at Bowen High, it might’ve made her think twice about leaving. As it was, he had her daydreaming at her machine all morning, even though the last thing she needed was a man in her life.

  Too many expectations she couldn’t possibly meet.

  Unfortunately, Fred’s curiosity meant he wasn’t going to drop off her mail and go, leaving her to her work—or to her daydreams.

  “What would make you think that, Fred?” Katie eased up on the foot pedal and looked through the open curtain to the main room of her shop. For whatever reason, she wanted to make Fred squirm today. He had no reason whatsoever to ask about Jared, other than to gather a little gossip to share at the next stop on his route.

  “Saw Jared Porter’s truck outside. Since he’s the finish carpenter at Porter Construction, and since I’m guessing he isn’t fixin’ to buy himself a wedding gown, I just put two and two together. You know, he did the chair rail in our dining room last year. All the cabinetry for my neighbor’s kitchen remodel, too. Did a fine job.”

  Katie smiled, glad for Jared’s sake that Fred had put two and two together and gotten five. She’d sensed Jared’s discomfort from the moment he’d said his name aloud. At first she’d thought his awkward speech and tight expression signaled a simple case of a man ill at ease around such feminine trappings. But when she’d asked about Kevin Durban’s age, a switch flipped in her brain and she understood both his discomfort and his unspoken, yet obvious, desire to keep Mandy’s plans quiet for as long as possible.

  Not that she’d ever gossip about her customers’ plans, but in this case, for whatever reason, Katie felt a stronger-than-usual urge to protect a customer’s privacy.

  “Well, you found me out, Fred. I definitely need to redo my front counter. But I may get a few more estimates before—”

  “Nah. Jared’s your man. You won’t find anyone better. He’s a real craftsman. But talk to Jared’s brother, Stewart, before you settle on a price. He’s the one who really runs things. He’ll cut you a good deal, or at least match whatever other estimates you get.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” If she got around to replacing the front counter, which, now that Fred mentioned it, should probably come next on her long To Do list of improvements.

  And she’d probably just talk to Jared. Stewart wasn’t a bad guy, and had a fair amount going for him in the brains department, but the one who really runs things? Somehow, after seeing Jared in her shop, she couldn’t imagine him playing second fiddle to lean, quiet Stewart. The wide stance of Jared’s feet, the way he’d held his hands on his hips while waiting for her to come out of the workroom—none of it pointed to a man who let others push him around. She doubted that very little—with the noticeable exception of buying a wedding gown for his teenage daughter—made him uncomfortable.

  Speaking of whom….

  “Hey, is that for Montfort’s Deli?” Katie nodded to a large package under Fred’s arm, trying to keep her gaze—and Fred’s—averted from what she saw out on Main Street. “I bet it’s the new menus that printer in Lincoln designed for them.”

  Fred shot her a grin that let her know he’d already scanned the return address. “I hope so. Gloria told me they’d arrive this week. She and Evelyn are dying to see them.”

  “Well, I won’t hold you up, then.” After giving him her most friendly smile, she returned to her machine. “I need to get these alterations done by four anyway. Great talking to you, Fred!”

  Fred said his goodbyes, and Katie nearly melted in relief when she heard the bells above her shop door jingle. She waited a few beats, then pushed back from the gown she’d been stitching and strode past the curtain and into the main room of her shop to get a better look across the street. Parked at the far curb, Kevin Durban’s red Pontiac with the Bowen High School Railroaders bumper sticker was hard to miss. And right there in the front seat, Mandy Porter was kissing Kevin through her giggles.

  She had a backpack slung over one shoulder, and it was clear Kevin was dropping her off—she had her seat belt off and the passenger door partially open—but she was having too much fun with Kevin to get out of the car quite yet.

  No wonder Jared had looked agitated as he attempted to buy his daughter’s gown. This wasn’t a couple ready to make a lifelong commitment. Not yet, anyway. They were probably as interested in whether or not the Railroaders would win their next football game as they were in marriage.

  Thank goodness she’d gotten rid of Fred before he spotted Mandy. Unless Mandy, who Fred claimed was a vegetarian, had developed a sudden desire for a turkey on rye from Montfort’s, or her backpack was crammed with laundry for the Suds-o-rama, the young brunette was headed into The Bowen Bride. If Fred saw her in the shop, oohing and aahing over the gowns, he might add two and two and get four this time.

  And since Mandy babysat twice a week for Fred’s kids, he’d immediately start asking questions. Anything he learned would be carried around town with tomorrow’s mail, and Katie suspected that wouldn’t sit well with Jared. Especially if he wanted Mandy and Kevin to reconsider. Not that Katie wished the youngsters apart, but for a couple their age, she suspected the situation could change in a minute, and they didn’t need the whole town speculating about whether their marriage would succeed.

  Katie yanked an elastic off her wrist, then used it to loop her hair into a ponytail. The old air-conditioning unit in her shop would probably work for another summer or two, but she would still get hot if she took Mandy’s measurements or starting rolling out bolts of fabric.

  By the time she’d checked her appearance in the mirror in the back of the shop and grabbed another diet soda, the bells on the shop door jangled. Katie strode to the front of the shop to greet Mandy, and when Mandy gave her a timid hello, Katie’s insides crumpled.

  Chapter 2

  Mandy wasn’t just seventeen; she was a young seventeen. Fresh-faced and far too unprepared for the ups and downs of marriage.

  Until that very moment, when Katie’s eyes had connected with Mandy’s, she hadn’t given much thought to the idle chitchat about her own shop. She’d allowed the rumors about charmed wedding gowns and never-ending love to persist because, frankly, buzz like that was incredible for business.

  Plus, deep in her heart, she liked to think Oma was working a little magic from her perch in heaven every time Katie stitched the hem of a gown using Oma’s ratty old thread. If Oma were still alive, she’d have started the rumors herself—and probably would have elaborated on them, telling anyone who would listen that Katie’s dresses were even better than those she’d designed and sold for more than thirty years.

  But now Katie began to wonder—and to worry—about the consequences if the magic were real. Because if so—if every woman who wore a dress from The Bowen Bride stayed married for life—what did that mean for Jared’s daughter?

  Would she end up happily married to Kevin? Or trapped in a relationship that wasn’t right for her?

  What, exactly, did the thread do?

  Katie wished she’d asked a few questions—or at least paid more attention—when Oma claimed the thread had mystical properties and tried to explain its importance to her.

  “You’re Mandy Porter, right?” Katie asked, trying to shake thoughts of Oma as she explained, “Fred Winston talks about you all the time. What can I do for you?”

  The teen grinned, happy to be recognized, though the Kevin + Mandy scribbled in faded purple marker on her backpack would have identified her to anyone.

  “Well, I’m actually here to look at wedding dresses. My boyfriend and I are talking about getting married.” Her gaze flitted around the shop, settling on the two mannequins in the window. “Do you have some I could try on?”

  “I have several samples in the back, but they’re primarily for fit. Everything I do is custom. Do you know what you want in terms of style?”

  “Um...” Mandy slowly shook her head.

  “That’s no problem,” Katie assured her. �
��I have photographs of all the gowns I’ve made in design books, so you can pick and choose which elements you like. You’re also welcome to bring me pictures from bridal magazines or the Internet. We can talk over what you do and don’t like and go from there. What you’d get would be a one-of-a-kind design, made just for you.”

  ‘‘Oh. So it doesn’t work like a regular department store?” Color crept into Mandy’s cheeks, sending a wave of sympathy through Katie. Of course the teen wouldn’t know how her wedding dresses were sold—and she shouldn’t.

  “Not quite. But if your wedding date’s close, and you’re in a hurry, there are several stores in Omaha that sell off the rack. They work just like a department store. There’s a lot of variety, and some of the gowns are quite beautiful—”

  “No, no.” Mandy set her backpack on the counter, then lifted her gaze to meet Katie’s. “I really want a gown from here. I saw that article on you. You know, in the Gazette? When I saw that photograph of your grandmother and read her story, and then saw that picture of Amy Cranders trying on her dress, it’s like, I just knew. Kevin thought so, too. Your stuff is, like, amazing.”

  “Thank you,” Katie replied, trying not to grin at Mandy’s choice of words. “So, you’re not in a big rush, then?”

  “No.” Then the teen put her hand to her stomach, and her already-pink cheeks went as red as the paint on Kevin’s Pontiac. “No! I mean, I’m not in that kind of hurry. I’m not pregnant or anything. We just really love each other and want to get married, you know? We’re both applying to Lincoln for next year, and thought it’d be great if we could get a spot in married student housing.”

  “Of course.” She smiled, hoping to put Mandy at ease, though she had to wonder why the teenager was so fired up to tie the knot. It was something Katie’d always resisted, despite a string of perfectly nice boyfriends during high school and college, which made the fact that she ran a bridal shop a personal joke. But what else was she going to do with her costuming expertise that would enable her to make a living in rural Nebraska?