One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  Mae was horrified that her eyes were suddenly teary. “Can’t an old woman sit and think on it?”

  Shelby frowned. “You’re signing papers tonight. The construction crew wants to start tomorrow.”

  “Why does everything have to happen so fast?” The oak in the town square looked the same as the day Victor proposed to her beneath it. Why did her bridal shop have to change? She shouldn’t have agreed to the sale. But her grandchildren could use a college fund. And at least this way she’d know the shop was in good hands—Shelby’s. “I suppose I’ll need to go through the dresses to decide which to donate.”

  Shelby cleared her throat. “I should probably tell you that we found rats the other day.”

  Mae suppressed a shudder. “Rats don’t scare me.” Death did.

  “I think they might have eaten some of the dresses in the storage room.”

  Anger coursed through Mae’s frail limbs. “How dare they? What if I wanted to get married again? There are some beautiful wedding dresses in those boxes.”

  Shelby completed the circuit around the town square and turned down Harrison. “Is there someone special in your life, Mae?”

  “Honey, I’ve buried three husbands and divorced three more. There’s always someone special on the horizon.” That was a lie. She had no more time for a special someone.

  Shelby slowed as they neared the shop. “How could you love so many men? I understand picking yourself up after a divorce. But the ones who died...”

  Mae felt an urgency when it came to Shelby, a purpose in getting across what had been the guiding force in her life. “It’s love. It’s not a cliché. It heals. It brings back joy. It makes the risk of loss seem small in comparison.”

  Shelby parked in Mae’s old parking space. The monster in the backseat panted with more fervor. A few spaces down, someone had parked a huge Dumpster. Mae couldn’t look at it.

  “I know that people have made fun of the number of times I’ve been married,” Mae said carefully. “I’m old, but I’m not stupid. The same people who laughed at my many husbands bought dresses from my shop, so I guess I’m the one who had the last laugh. I’ve been rich and happy.”

  The dog thrust his face between them and whined, ready to go.

  Shelby wiped his drool with a tissue, as if he was a small child. “Which husband was Oliver?”

  Mae couldn’t remember if she’d talked about Oliver to Shelby before. “My last. He was from England. I buried him next to two other husbands.” There was only one plot left. Hers. Someday soon she’d have to call the funeral home. Horrible as it was to plan her own funeral, it had to be done. She wanted lilies, not daisies or roses. And she wanted a casket with purple lining.

  “Doesn’t it hurt?” The younger woman fiddled with the key ring. “You buried three men you loved.”

  Had Mae ever been such a soft widow?

  No. Not even the first time. “The dead ones would want me to be happy.” Of that she was certain.

  “And the divorced ones?” The corner of Shelby’s mouth tilted up.

  “They’d like to see me rot in hell.” The idea no longer turned her insides. Cancer had done that. “I’d like to spend their money first. You know, before I go.” Mae admired the browns and golds of the autumn leaves on the tree in front of her shop. “Do you see all those leaves?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re proof that nothing lasts forever, but that life goes on.”

  The big beast lost all patience with them. He bounded through the open window to the sidewalk, sending the truck rocking. He lifted his leg on the back of the tree.

  “Men are like that, marking their territory. But we women, we know nothing lasts forever. It takes courage to move on.” Mae gazed up at her storefront. “It won’t look any different, will it?”

  Shelby either didn’t hear or pretended not to.

  Mae was no spring chicken. She’d witnessed businesses changing hands before. They’d gut the place, perhaps change the front, as well.

  She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  This was worse than the time Franklin told her he wanted a divorce. Mae just wasn’t up for anything that wasn’t a happy ending. The shop should be thriving, filled with happy voices, and beautiful brides. Instead, it was an empty, sad place, soon to be turned into a glorified storage unit they called a wine cave.

  She followed Shelby and the dog inside. The beast immediately picked up interesting scents, galloping back and forth throughout the store. “I hope he eats some rats.”

  “I hope he doesn’t.” Shelby carried a chair from the storage room.

  Mae stopped in the display room, looking around, seeing things as they’d been in their heyday—colorful gowns, sparkling tiaras, dazzling shoes. And smiling women.

  “Why don’t you sit here and tell me what we’re taking to your house and what goes to the Dump...Dumpster.” Shelby produced a pair of canvas gloves from her back pocket and put them on.

  “You’re going to throw away my things.” Mae knew this. But the reality—the ugly brown Dumpster outside—was almost too much to bear.

  Shelby returned from the storage room and stood next to Conchita. “What about her? Keep or...?”

  “There’s at least a thousand dollars of lace on that dress.” Someone should have worn it, but Mae had overpriced the gown knowing no one in town could afford a ten thousand dollar dress. It spoke to her, that dress.

  Shelby pulled the train forward delicately. “The rats have been at it.”

  Mae closed her eyes. It was horrid. Her shop. Her life.

  “I’m taking the dress,” she said determinedly. “I’ll have it professionally cleaned. And I’ll be buried in it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE WAITING ROOM at the clinic was full.

  Overweight, nearly blind dogs barked at each other. Cats crouched in their carriers and yowled. Every person studied Gage skeptically, presumably either because they suspected him of being a copper thief or because they doubted his veterinary skills. And Doc? He was uncharacteristically mute.

  But the worst part of the day wasn’t the discovery that Shelby had avoided him this morning. It was that she’d snuck into the clinic and taken Lucky, the Saint Bernard. His heart was already bruised because she didn’t have the courage to talk to him about their kiss. She’d taken a swipe at his ego by disobeying his restrictions and their deal regarding the dog. What was the use of being the veterinarian in charge if no one paid attention to what you said?

  His cell phone rang. It was Dr. Thomason. “North Country Stables brought in a mare yesterday that’s due to foal this week. Dr. Faraji just checked her and believes she’ll deliver soon, possibly as soon as today. I know you’re keeping office hours up there, but I was wondering how soon you could get here. Dr. Faraji is good, but these flighty thoroughbreds seem to respond better to you.”

  The excitement of a familiar challenge combined with someone actually wanting him lifted Gage’s spirits. “Let me check my schedule to see if I can free up the afternoon.”

  “Is that the equine hospital?” Doc glared at him. “Tell them you’re booked. All morning. Tell them you’re booked the next two months.”

  Clenching his jaw, Gage muted his cell phone. “There’s nothing on the books for the afternoon.”

  “Oh, there will be,” Doc promised venomously.

  They glared at each other amidst the raucous waiting room.

  Doc stood on those skinny, unstable legs of his and tottered into the hallway, gesturing for Gage to follow. “I know you have a lot on your mind. But you can’t burn the candle at both ends. You can’t be here for these animals while you’re a couple hundred miles away playing horse ob-gyn. One life isn’t more important than another.” The old man sighed. “These people...they’re not just my frie
nds and neighbors. They’re my family. And those animals are their children. Harmony Valley needs someone who’s going to respect that and be here for us, as promised.” He lowered his voice. “And Shelby needs someone who’ll be here for her, too.”

  Shelby. She wouldn’t even talk to him. Frustration welled to flood stage. “Shelby doesn’t want me to be here.” Gage unmuted his phone. “Dr. Thomason? I’ll be there after lunch.”

  * * *

  “MY LIFE’S WORK is trash,” Mae moaned from a chair in the nearly empty shop.

  Shelby balanced another load for the Dumpster in her arms. “Your life’s work was making women happy.” But somewhere along the way, she’d begun hoarding the very items women adored. She hadn’t learned to let go.

  Shelby tossed her armload into the Dumpster and took stock. Of dusty, musty dresses. Of bolts of lace that practically disintegrated in her hands. Of mismatched earrings, shoes in the oddest sizes, stained wedding planners, warped, empty photo albums. And how could she forget the boxes of hangers, piles of display hooks, stacks of racks, bags of blank price tags.

  The one surprise had been Mae’s insistence on saving the window display dress. Shelby had to promise to take it to a specialty shop in Cloverdale for restoration. Instead of undressing Conchita and risking damaging the dress further, Shelby decided to transport it mannequin and all.

  Mae may have closed the store and moved her precious inventory into storage, but she’d clearly been hopeful that Dream Day Bridal would reopen one day, that love and weddings would return to Harmony Valley.

  Love. Weddings. Much as Shelby didn’t want to, she relived the events leading up to Gage’s kiss. Had he known she thought he was dying? It was both comical and embarrassing. Not the kissing part. No. There was power in his kiss. Heat in his touch. An intensity of emotions she didn’t want to name.

  Shelby sighed, leaning against the edge of the Dumpster. It was her emotions that were hard to ignore. The longing to be close to someone, to be important to someone, to be in love with someone.

  Who was she kidding? Insert Gage’s name for someone. No other man interested her.

  Mae called, her voice thin until the coughing struck.

  Shelby came inside, Lucky trotting next to her. She’d shed her jacket an hour before, placing it over Mae’s lap to keep her warm. “Are you ready for the dress boxes?”

  Mae nodded and stood. Shelby steadied her. The old woman didn’t have the rolling gait of Grandpa, but she didn’t have the sturdiest pair of legs in town either.

  Shelby dragged Mae’s chair to the storage room and made sure Mae was settled before she turned to the hardest task of the day—the expensive dresses. She would’ve thought cleaning out the shop to be an impersonal task, but Mae made each item seem like a misfit in need of love. These last boxes were going to be tough.

  Wardrobe boxes six foot high stood like a modern day Stonehenge. Shelby dragged one away from the wall and pointed out how the cardboard had been chewed on the bottom. “I don’t think there’ll be anything to salvage here.”

  Lucky dropped to the ground at Mae’s feet with a grunt.

  Mae cursed rats. “Open it. I have to see. There are five or six dresses in each one.”

  Shelby hesitated. “Shouldn’t we let sleeping rats lie?” They’d been fortunate not to see any so far.

  “I can’t let them go without knowing.”

  “Mae. This could take all day.” Rats. She didn’t want to disturb the rats.

  “And how many days do I have left? Look at me.” Mae held up a fist that was mostly skin and bone. “I used to swing a mean softball bat. Now I can barely wield my cane. Open the box. Open all the boxes.”

  Shelby complied. The first dress she pulled out was a drop-waisted ivory gown. Zipped in plastic it was still beautiful and looked intact.

  “That’s a good one.” Mae loosened her grip on her cane.

  Shelby shifted the heavy dress around, crinkling plastic. The bottom of the storage bag had holes in it. The train of lace eaten.

  Mae cursed the rats again. Shelby thanked them for having moved elsewhere.

  Three boxes later, they hadn’t found a dress that was salvageable. With each disappointing discovery, Mae grew quieter. She began staring at the front door, mumbling to herself. Occasionally, Shelby heard her mutter something to Oliver.

  Shelby was hoping for a miracle. And then she opened the fourth box.

  “Mae.” Shelby laughed with relief. “Oh, Mae. These are untouched.”

  All the dresses were cocktail length. A robin’s-egg blue mother of the bride dress. A variety of bridesmaids dresses. And a short ivory sheath wedding gown with a removable four-foot train. The train was on the hanger, which had probably saved it from being eaten by rats.

  “Try on that wedding dress,” Mae commanded as if they were in battle and only wearing the ivory dress would save them.

  “No.” Shelby hung the dress back in the box. “It wouldn’t be right. I’m married.”

  “You’re widowed,” Mae snapped, her mood turning as quickly as a model on a catwalk. “Does your heart still beat? Do your lips ever smile? Do you lie in bed at night missing a warm body next to you?”

  “Mae, I—”

  “You’ll get married again. If I have my way, it’ll be in that dress.”

  “No.” Shelby felt sick. She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t abandon the old woman.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Mae pounded her cane on the floor. “It hurt too much the first time. You girls today are soft, avoiding the pain. Pain makes life worth living. It makes you appreciate pain-free times.” Her cane pounded the floorboards again. “Put on that dress.”

  “I’m not like you, Mae.” Shelby’s voice felt high enough to crack crystal.

  They glared at each other in silence. Lucky lowered his head between his paws.

  And then the silence was broken by the meekest of meows.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GAGE ESCORTED THE last of the morning patients back to the waiting room. In only a few hours, he’d been bitten, scratched and vomited on. Who said horses were more dangerous than small animals?

  “I’m going to the equine hospital.” Gage tossed a file on the desk in front of Doc. “Schedule any new appointments for tomorrow morning.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t come back.” Doc’s voice was a drawn out, disapproving growl. “You’re not giving anything here a chance. Not the practice. And not my granddaughter.”

  “Giving a chance runs both ways.”

  Old War had nothing to say to that.

  Gage’s cell phone rang.

  “I have kittens in the walls at Mae’s shop,” Shelby said breathlessly. “Who knows how long they’ve been in here.”

  Shelby was asking for his help. When was the last time that had happened?

  Sure, sure. He was good enough for a call when she was in trouble...

  The clock on the wall ticked.

  Time. It had always been Gage’s enemy. He’d taken too long to ask Shelby out. He hadn’t had enough time with Nick. And there was never enough time in the day to do everything he wanted or felt obligated to do.

  If Gage left now, he’d be in Davis by midafternoon. Plenty of time to make the delivery and give Leo cause to frown. And if he didn’t go? He’d be putting his goals second to a love that might never pan out.

  “Gage? Could you...” She paused, as if finally noting his silence. “Could you tell me what to do?”

  “You’ll need... You’ll need to...” He hung up. On Shelby. It took a moment for that to sink in.

  What was he doing? He loved her.

  “Where are you going?” Doc called before Gage realized he was moving toward the door. “When will you be back?”

  Gage didn’t an
swer. He couldn’t. He got in his truck and started the engine. The sun had warmed the cab to near stifling. He shed his jacket and put the truck in gear.

  He wasn’t sure where he was going—to Davis or to Shelby—until he turned down Harrison. He parked in front of Dream Day Bridal, but didn’t shut off the ignition. He could still leave. Delivering horses was what he lived for.

  So what if he’d kissed Shelby? She clearly viewed that kiss as a mistake since she’d avoided him ever since.

  Kentucky was his future, not Shelby.

  Kentucky.

  Drive away.

  Shelby appeared in the shop’s doorway, wearing a plain black T-shirt, faded blue jeans and work boots, and looking like she could handle anything alone. And that’s exactly what she’d been doing for two years. Handling things alone. Because he’d chosen to leave her.

  Drive away.

  She smiled at him with understanding, as if she expected him to choose horses over her. She’d already forgiven him so much, more than he’d ever hoped. She’d forgive him his choice if he drove away now.

  But he could never forgive himself.

  He shut off the engine and got out.

  “Did you bring what we’ll need?” she asked.

  “I’ve got a hammer, a crowbar and a flashlight.” While he dug into the small tool kit behind his front seat, Lucky ran out to meet him, putting his massive front paws on the bench seat and slobbering on Gage’s arm. Unfazed, he wiped his arm on his jeans and told Lucky to get down.

  The dog trotted inside happily, like a pony prancing in a parade.

  “I’m glad you came.” Shelby’s gaze didn’t waver when he approached. She’d always be strong and compassionate where others were concerned. Strange, though, when it came to her own happiness, she didn’t have the courage to reach out for the brass ring.

  “What are those for?” Mae eyed his tools from a chair in the hallway. “You aren’t damaging my walls.”

  “He is,” Shelby said. “Remember the kittens, Mae.”