by Rachel Hauck
“There’s something special about this shop owner. I liked what I read about her.”
He handed her an extra hammer. “Here, start pulling out nails. Man, whoever kicked this carpet did not know what they were doing.”
Haley dropped to the floor, getting to work.
“How’s it going with the money?”
“Do desperate prayers count?”
“In my book, yes,” Cole said. “What about your folks?”
“Dad would but Mom refuses. She hates this place and I can’t get a reason out of her.” Haley recounted her conversation with her parents, raising more questions in her heart.
What did Mom have against the wedding shop? And why wouldn’t she tell Haley?
Cole stopped pulling nails. “Are you sure you want to start down this road if you have no money? What about the bank?”
“They said no.”
“Haley—”
“Cole, I’m not giving up. If I have to open the shop with only half of it done—”
“You won’t pass inspection.”
“I’ll find the money. Shoot, I found a rare part for a tank in the middle of the desert. I think I can find a few measly dollars to redo this place.”
“You think eighty thousand is a few measly dollars?”
“Remember the story where the prophet Elisha prayed for the widow and her bottle of oil never ran out? She had money to pay her debt.”
“Do you have a bottle of expensive oil to sell? Stock in Exxon?”
“No, but I’m talking to the same God Elisha talked to, and He has a whole lot of money.”
“You’re really doing this on faith?”
Haley sat down against the wall. “I don’t have any other option, Cole. Ever have that feeling in your gut that says ‘this is the right thing to do,’ but it makes no sense?”
He lightly tapped his hammer against the floorboard at an imaginary nail. “I do. Rather, I knew when something wasn’t right even though it made no sense.”
“Did you act on it?”
He jutted out his chin. “I did. Hardest thing I’d ever done.”
“Really? Even with your dad—”
“Knock, knock. Hello?”
Haley exchanged a glance with Cole, rising up to find an older woman entering the foyer, leaning on her cane. Behind her, on the stoop, sat a distressed leather suitcase.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Haley?”
“I am. Please come in.” Haley offered her a steadying hand, helping her to the old metal chair Cole set down for her, then closing the door.
“It’s cold out there,” she said with a shiver. “I read about you in the paper. About the city giving you this shop. I had to come see for myself.”
The woman had an aura about her, a timeless quality, and Haley ached to hear what she had to say.
Cole bounded up to the mezzanine, returning with another old metal chair from the third floor, setting it down for Haley. He took a seat on the stairs as the woman glanced around the dusty shop.
“None worse for the wear, I see. The shop’s bones are still here. Strong bones.”
Haley leaned toward her. “Did you get your wedding trousseau at this shop?”
“Indeed I did.” She nodded, a dreamy quality in her voice. “Back in the day, the large room there was called the grand salon.” The woman pointed ahead of her, then behind. “That there was the small salon.”
“That’s what I’ve been calling them,” Haley said, smiling at the woman, feeling the smallest ping of confirmation. Her sixth-grade research was coming to bear.
The woman sighed, resting her hands on her lap. “This is good. So very good. You’re the one to be here. You’re the one.”
“I’m the one? W-what do you mean?”
“Let’s see, the brides would come down the stairs wearing their beautiful wedding gown for their mothers and grandmothers to see, and all the women kinfolk and friends.” The woman pointed to the stairs, moving on with her story. “Everyone would ooh and aah. It was such a thrilling moment.”
Haley peeked up the stairs toward the mezzanine, envisioning bride after bride in her wedding gown descending the stairs. “It must have been beautiful.” She faced the woman. “How can I help you, Mrs.—”
“Peabody. Lillian Peabody.” She motioned to the door. “My daughter-in-law left a suitcase on the porch. Young man, can you get it?”
Cole jumped up, easily lifting the vintage case and setting it at Mrs. Peabody’s feet. He made a face at Haley.
What’s this about?
I don’t know.
“Peabody? Are you any relation to Linus Peabody?”
“He’s my nephew. Now, don’t let him go giving you a hard time.” Mrs. Peabody motioned for Cole to unlock her bag. “My mother married in 1934. Her folks lost everything when the banks failed. She had a job as a teacher, but turned over most of her salary to support the family. When harder times hit, the women teachers lost their positions so the men could stay on, supporting their families. Anyway, when my father proposed, my mother had it in her head to have a church wedding. Well, her daddy couldn’t afford a church wedding with a proper wedding dress, flowers, and cake. My grandmother insisted my mother put aside her foolishness, put on her Sunday dress, and get married by the preacher in the farmhouse parlor.”
“Something tells me she refused,” Haley said.
“So you knew my mother, then?” Mrs. Peabody laughed softly, giving Haley a slow wink. “ ‘My Sunday dress?’ says my mother. ‘I wear that rag every week. Everyone’s seen me in it a hundred times. I’m not getting married in a faded blue print dress.’ ”
“I don’t blame her.”
“My father offered to buy her a dress, but my grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Even though he was barely feeding the family, he was a proud man. So my mother set about figuring a way to get her a wedding dress.”
“So she came here? To the shop?”
“You’re a bright girl. Don’t let this one go, young man.”
“Oh, we’re not—”
“We’re friends. We’re just friends.”
“Friends make the best lovers. Now, where was I?”
Haley bit back her laugh. Racy Mrs. Peabody!
Mrs. Peabody tapped the box with her cane. “The dress my mother wore is inside. And I’m returning it.”
“Returning it?” Haley resisted the urge to glance at Cole every time Mrs. Peabody amused her. “I don’t understand. Why would you return it?”
“My mother never could come up with the money to buy a dress. She scrimped and saved for a few months, but Daddy wasn’t willing to put off their wedding much longer. So my grandmother went to Miss Cora asking her to lend Mama a wedding gown.” Mrs. Peabody gazed off into the distance. “Mama never returned it. I think there was some ill will between the two of them, Miss Cora and Mama.”
“Maybe Miss Cora gave it to her,” Cole said.
“No, it was a loan. I remember hearing my grandmother talk of it. When I was a girl, if the family had a wedding to attend, Granny would say, ‘Janice, did you ever return that gown to Cora?’ And Mama always answered with a curt, ‘No.’ When I got married I asked her about the dress . . . Worst thing I ever said to my mother. Shew wee. So I bought a new gown. Right here in this shop. Daddy insisted, but Mama never came around with me when I tried it on. Said she trusted me.”
“Sounds like she and Miss Cora had a falling out.”
“If they did, she never spoke of it. Right before she died, we were going through her things, and don’t you know? I found her dress. The one Miss Cora loaned her. ‘Mama, your dress! I thought it was lost.’ ” Mrs. Peabody captured Haley with her storytelling. “Mama’s eyes watered, and she shook her head. ‘I did Cora wrong. I should’ve returned her dress. I stole it from her.’ ” Mrs. Peabody tapped the suitcase with her cane. “I made up my mind that if the shop ever opened again, I’d bring the dress back around, leave it here for another bride. Maybe s
he’d have some happy memories with it.”
Haley raised the lid to find a beautiful dress with a V-neckline and a high pleated collar in the back nestled in a lining of gold satin. The skirt was plain but long. Haley raised it from the case.
“Mrs. Peabody, it’s beautiful.”
“It’s a bit yellow and needs a good cleaning, but I think the gals today like older clothes. Vintage, I think they call it.”
“Vintage is all the rage.”
Under the dress was a tarnished silver tiara with a small row of sparkling jewels.
“Mrs. Peabody, you don’t have to return this. Cora’s been dead a long time. The shop’s been closed for over thirty years.” But Haley could see the older woman’s pride in her eyes. She could feel it. “I don’t have any money to pay for it right now anyway.”
“I didn’t come to get money from you, Haley.” Mrs. Peabody reached in her pocketbook and passed Haley a white envelope. “It’s not much, but that should cover the interest on the price of a gown. In 1934, a dress like Mama’s cost a whopping three hundred dollars. Can you imagine?”
Haley immediately offered the envelope back. “Mrs. Peabody, I can’t take your money. Especially if you’re returning the gown. It wasn’t even my shop when your mother was here. And it didn’t belong to anyone in my family or in any of my friends’ families. I’m not even related to the Scotts.”
“Then consider it for the shop.” The woman shoved the envelope toward Haley. “Consider my money as an investment. I’m giving back the dress Mama stole, and I want to make it right.”
Haley peeked in the envelope. “Five thousand dollars. Mrs. Peabody, really, I can’t take this.”
“Please, darling. My Gilbert did all right. I don’t know your plans for the place, but it looks to need some work. Are you rich? Don’t you need some money?” Mrs. Peabody tapped her hand to her heart. “I felt right here that I was to bring you the dress and this money. Like I said, Gil did all right. We put a good bit by. On behalf of my mother, the Peabody and Cook family debt is settled.”
Haley peered back at Cole, a wash of tears in her eyes. What do I do? If this happened on her watch in the air force, she’d know what to do. Follow regulations. But now she was out in life on her own, figuring the regulations out as she went.
“I found these and thought you’d like them.” She reached into her bag again, retrieving two photographs, passing them to Haley. “I had sons, and their wives are more interested in their own mothers’ wedding gowns than mine.” The old bride, a shop alumnus, tapped the picture on the right over two photographs. “This is me in my dress. Miss Cora helped me pick it out in 1955.”
A much younger version of Mrs. Peabody stared back at Haley from the world of black and white. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, showing her slender neck. The off-the-shoulder bodice was made of lace and sat atop a wide tulle skirt.
“Mrs. Peabody, what a beauty.”
“Me or the dress? I tell you, the dress stole the show.”
“Where is your dress now?”
“Gil and I moved a good bit in our younger years, and somewhere along the way it was lost. Breaks my heart to think of it. I’d bring it here if I still had it.”
“I’d love to hear more about Miss Cora.” Haley handed the pictures to Cole, who stored them in the suitcase with the gown. “From people who actually knew her.”
“Well, plenty of folks in town knew her. She was something. A handsome woman. Tall, thin-boned. Not especially pretty on the outside but a beauty in her heart.”
“Did you know her parents? Or her husband?”
“Saw her mama around town and her husband, heard stories—you know how townsfolk do—about her being in love with a riverboat captain. Quite the tale. How she and her mother lived up top the shop in the thirties after all the banks closed.”
“Here? They lived here?”
Mrs. Peabody squinted at a muted memory. “My memory ain’t what it used to be, but seems I heard her father done like my father-in-law when hard times hit—bugged out on the family. Mr. Scott ran a bank, which was caught up with a chain that closed. They lost everything. The whole town was affected when Heart’s Bend Mutual closed.”
“Did he ever return?” This part of Cora’s story was new to Haley.
“Not to my recollection. Now, my father-in-law wised up and skedaddled on back home.” She laughed, pressing her slender, age-formed fingers to her lips. “My husband was born nine months later. No, now wait. I think Mr. Scott died during the Depression years. Least that’s what Mrs. Scott said. But there were whispers. Something about a divorce. No one ever saw Mr. Scott again, but he’s got a headstone in the churchyard. We didn’t see much of the Scotts. Just in church now and then.”
The front door opened and a regal-looking blonde in a dress with heels peeked in. “You ready?”
“Haley, my daughter-in-law, Beatriz. Beatriz, this is Haley. She’s bringing back the wedding shop.” Mrs. Peabody moved toward her daughter-in-law with the aid of her cane. “Haley, it was a pleasure.”
“No, Mrs. Peabody, the pleasure was all mine. Please come again.” Haley aided the woman to the door, then tried to give the check to the daughter-in-law. “She gave me money but—”
“Then you should take it. We’ve not seen her this excited about something in a long time. I think Linus let you have the shop just to make her happy.” Beatriz folded her hand over Haley’s. “Take it. Keep it. Use it to open the shop. I don’t understand, but the old place means a lot to her.”
Haley closed the door behind her surprise guest, a swirl in her chest, the push-pull of opposing emotions. With the check from Mrs. Peabody, Haley understood opening this shop was no longer her idea. It was about more than fulfilling a childhood pledge.
God was in this. And He’d made Himself known.
“Well, there’s your first bottle of oil, Haley.” Cole reached for the check, then handed it back to Haley. “That gut sense you have just might be right. And . . .” He picked up the pictures. “I have an idea for these.”
“I’m shaking.” Haley sat next to him, absorbing what happened in her heart, in her thoughts, through her skin.
“Over pictures? I was just going to frame them. Make a pictorial history. I bet we’ll find more. Maybe if we can get that locked room opened.”
“Goofball. I mean over this money.”
He bumped her with his shoulder, grinning, locking up the suitcase, setting it beside the staircase. “Yeah, I know. Pretty amazing.”
“I said I’d have faith for it and wham, some lady walks in and gives me five thousand dollars. Who does that?”
“Who knows? But I’ve always heard when you’re doing God’s will, all kinds of crazy things can happen.”
“Is that it, Cole? Am I doing God’s will?” Haley reached for his shoulder, turning him to face her. “When I think of my past, I feel like the least likely candidate to be blessed by God.”
“You and every other sinner in the world.” Cole regarded her for a moment, a slow smile tipping his lips, his shoulder slightly touching hers. “Want to pull more nails out of the floor?” He offered his hammer.
She laughed, reaching for the well-used tool. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I like to think it’s my superpower.”
Chapter Sixteen
COLE
A fresh snow whitened Heart’s Bend Wednesday morning as Cole and Gomez, along with Haley and the crew, finished cleaning up the shop from the demo. Now all they had to do was wait for the permits.
He’d run into political red tape for permits before, and he hoped this project wouldn’t fall between the cracks at the Department of Codes & Building Safety.
Was it too good to be true that the council gave Haley the shop so easily while Akron barked on their heels?
He’d keep an eye out. In the meantime, he called on a couple of the bids he put in before Christmas. But everyone said, “We’re hold
ing.”
Yeah, the winter was slow but this was ridiculous. No one wanted to pull the trigger on new projects?
Standing on the front steps of the shop, he stared toward the freshly plowed streets. He had a whole day ahead with nothing to do.
Cole waited for the rise of anxiety, the shiver of panic, but instead, a warm it’s-gonna-be-all-right wrapped him up.
The shop door closed behind him and Haley came out, zipping up her jacket, taking her gloves from her pocket. “I hate waiting.”
“I’m president of that club.” He roped his arm around her shoulders, purely in a brotherly fashion, and gave her a squeeze. But touching her made his heart hammer in his chest. “Want to be my vice president?”
“I don’t know. How much work is involved?”
“Ah, not much. A little worry here, a little worry there, a sleepless night or two.”
Haley laughed and he peeked sideways at her. She’d always fascinated him, the pretty little sister of his friend Seth. The baby girl in a family of boys. She grew up rough and tumble but she looked like a china doll. Petite, but with wide eyes and full lips cast in her delicate features.
“What?”
He’d stared too long. Cole shook his head, stepping off the porch. “Nothing.”
“Do I have something on my face? You looked like I might have something on my face.” She followed him, wiping her hands under her eyes, across her cheeks, and down to her chin.
“No, your face is fine.” Beautiful.
Cole made a beeline for his truck. What was this sensation? Wanting to stare at her, touch her, think about her. For crying out loud, she was Tammy’s best friend.
Tammy’s not here.
At the truck he pulled his keys from his pocket, an idea rising. “Hopefully we’ll get the permits next week.”
“We better. It’s already the middle of January and the town council’s clock starts ticking in a couple of weeks.”
“If they take too much longer we can ask for an extension.”
“We can, but I get the feeling Linus Peabody won’t budge. Not with Akron willing to pay so much for the land.”