The Wedding Dress

by Mary O'Donnell

  “He’s had a few girlfriends over the years, but there’s no one special right now,” replied Gwen. “For a while we thought that he and Shelby Spencer, his high school sweetheart, would get married, but a couple of years after he went away to college, they broke up. He dated several girls after that, but I don’t think there was ever anyone he was really serious about. He has time now to find the right person.”

  Alice spoke without looking up from her tea towel, “Better to find the ‘right’ person—speaking from experience.” Alice had been through a divorce, and had only recently been willing to even mention anything relating to it. Annie thought that time had begun to heal Alice’s heart, as it had her own. Though the widow and the divorcée have different experiences, Annie had come to realize that in many ways they share the same conditions of sadness, loneliness, and uncertainty. She and Alice had been able to console and support each other, and it had made their friendship stronger.

  Kate put down her crochet for a moment and said, “I’m trying to teach Vanessa that it’s best to make sure that the person you fall in love with and marry is really someone with the same outlook and commitment to a long-term relationship, but sometimes it’s so hard to get through that ‘know-that-already’ attitude that teenagers seem to have. I guess I was the same way. You just want your children to learn from your mistakes.” Kate’s marriage was another casualty of divorce, and she wanted so much to shield her teenage daughter from the hurt she had experienced.

  “Well, it’s not something I have to worry about with Tony right now,” said Gwen. “I know he’s focused on his career, and when the time comes he’ll find someone who’s worthy of him.” Gwen cringed at her own words and then smiled. “That didn’t come out just right—you know what I mean. He really is a wonderful young man, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his mother. I’m sure that the woman who becomes his wife will be someone appropriate—as you said, Kate, with the same outlook and long-term commitment to their marriage. I just want to see my children be happy.”

  “A worthy cause!” said Mary Beth laughing. The bell on the shop’s door rang as it opened, and two ladies entered, making a beeline to the wall of pattern books. They were obviously regular customers. Mary Beth looked over at Kate and said, “I’ll get this.”

  Annie took the opportunity in the break of the discussion about Tony Palmer to broach the topic of the wedding dress she had found in the attic that morning. “Speaking of marriage, guess what I found in Gram’s attic this morning.”

  “Prince Charming?” guessed Alice, smiling slyly. “I always knew there was some reason you spend so much time in that attic.”

  The other ladies laughed, except for Stella, who didn’t seem to think it was all that amusing. Peggy laid down her needle and fabric, and said, “Do we have another mystery to solve? I was just saying to Wally this morning that it was about time for you to find something new for us to work on. Come on … tell us! What did you find?”

  “Well, you know that Wally came over this morning to improve the lighting situation in the attic, so I went up there early to try to make some space for him to work. There was an old dressmaker’s mannequin that was in the way …”

  “I remember that,” Alice said, “It was there when we were kids—back in the far corner. Dusty old thing. Can’t imagine a mystery connected with that.”

  Annie responded, “I don’t remember there being a mannequin in the attic back then … I guess it just didn’t make an impact on me. Do you remember the wedding dress?”

  “Wedding dress? No, it was just plain, with nothing on it,” Alice answered.

  “Well, there is something on it now. The whole thing was covered with an old sheet, and I carried it down to the extra bedroom this morning, along with a really ugly old hat that was perched on top. Oh, and I found that there was a beautiful hand-painted hatbox sitting underneath it—I took that downstairs too.”

  Kate spoke dreamily, “I just love old hatboxes. And I love hats. I should have been born back in those days when ladies wore long dresses and hats and gloves, and sipped mint juleps as they waved their silk fans on the veranda during the long, hot summer.”

  “I think we’re getting off topic here,” said Peggy, giving Kate a sideways glance, with a hint of a sardonic smile. “What about this wedding dress?”

  “I knew that there was some sort of garment under the sheet, ’cause I peeked. I carried the mannequin down to the visitor’s bedroom to get it out of the way. It was only after I removed the sheet that covered it, and saw the contents of the hatbox, that I knew for sure it had been someone’s wedding dress. Because of the awful hat that had been sitting on it, I was expecting the dress to be something really garish, so I was completely surprised when it turned out to be so gorgeous. It reminds me of a Gibson-girl dress, but the really outstanding part is the hand-crocheted accents on the cuffs, collar and bodice. The dress is obviously old; it’s a rich ivory color.”

  “Could it have been Betsy’s wedding dress?” asked Gwen.

  “No, I found Gram’s wedding dress ages ago—folded and put away in a box in her closet,” Annie explained. “This dress doesn’t really look like it’s from Gram’s era at all. It looks like it might be from the turn of the last century. But I haven’t told you what I found in the hatbox yet.”

  Annie looked around at the faces of her friends. Mary Beth had finished with her customers and had been listening in. Peggy’s eyes had widened as she listened with expectation to learn about the contents of the hatbox. Everyone had their eyes on Annie, except Stella, who never dropped a stitch as her knitting needles continued to click together. Annie wasn’t fooled though; she’d been around Stella long enough to know that she never missed a thing, even when she pretended she wasn’t listening.

  “First of all, the hatbox is decorated with a beautiful painting of a bouquet of flowers. So anyway, I opened the box, and there was a hand-crocheted veil and pair of gloves that match the crocheted pieces on the dress. You won’t believe how elegant it looks. I can’t imagine to whom it might have belonged, or why it was in Gram’s attic—especially since it wasn’t on the mannequin when we were kids. That’s kind of strange.”

  “Well, if Betsy put the dress on the mannequin, maybe she bought it at a sale or something, just to preserve the handwork on the dress,” suggested Alice.

  “I guess that’s possible,” replied Annie, “but why ‘save’ something just to hide it away in the attic like that?”

  “If it’s as old as you think it is, have you considered that it might have belonged to the previous owner of Grey Gables?” asked Stella.

  “Well, no,” said Annie, slightly startled that Stella would actually offer an idea about the origin of the dress. “I don’t even know who that was. Why would they have left something so personal in the house?”

  Ignoring Annie’s question, Stella said, “Didn’t your grandmother ever tell you about Captain Grey? Charlie and Betsy bought Grey Gables after he died, though I don’t suppose that either of them knew him very well. Nobody did really. He lived alone and kept to himself most of the time. He had a housekeeper who fixed his meals and cleaned, but I don’t think he went out much in those last years. I only saw him once or twice myself.”

  “The house was named after a person? I always thought it was called that because of all of the gray-color accents on the exterior of the house. I don’t recall that the subject of the previous owner ever came up with Gram. Besides, why would an old bachelor sea captain have a wedding dress?” asked Annie.

  3

  Annie was still thinking about Captain Grey as she left A Stitch in Time. It was rather exciting to think that Grey Gables was named after a sea captain. She wondered why Gram had never mentioned him, but then, since Annie had returned to Stony Point, she had found that there was a lot more to her grandmother’s life than she had previously known. It probably shouldn’t have surprised her when she came across another detail that she hadn’t been aware of before.


  Annie headed next door to The Cup & Saucer, where the locals sometimes stopped for a bite of something to eat and perhaps to hear the latest news and/or gossip of the area. Often she and Alice would have lunch together after the meeting, but today Alice had a Divine Décor home party to attend and had to bow out. Annie didn’t mind. When she first arrived in Stony Point, she felt like everyone in the diner was staring at her, but now she was like another one of the locals. It had taken some time, but she really felt that she had been accepted as part of the community, even if she was “from away.”

  As she opened the door to enter the diner, Ian Butler, the town’s mayor, was just exiting. Since it was a work day, Ian wore his typical button-down shirt and tie, but today he had also added a casual suit jacket. Annie involuntarily thought how handsome he looked; Ian’s eyes lit up and a smile spontaneously spread across his face when he saw Annie. It was no secret in town that Ian, who had been widowed about the same time as Annie, had a soft spot for her. Though Annie told herself that he was “just a friend,” she couldn’t help but notice that her pulse seemed to quicken when he was near.

  “Annie! I was just looking for you. I was hoping that you’d be stopping by here today after the Hook and Needle meeting. If you don’t have previous plans, would you care to have lunch with me and someone that I’m meeting over at the Maplehurst Inn restaurant? I only ask because it concerns Grey Gables.”

  “How so?” asked Annie.

  “I had a call this morning from an artist named Andrew Gareth. He has plans to do a series of paintings of different sites around Stony Point, and Grey Gables is one of the places he wants to include. I suggested that I meet with him to discuss his project over lunch at the inn, since that’s where he’s staying. Then, after I hung up, I thought I’d invite you as well—hoping you’d be available. I’m sure he won’t mind if I show up with a lovely companion who has a vested interest,” Ian answered, smiling.

  As Annie listened to Ian, her eyes had grown wide. “Andrew Gareth? The artist Andrew Gareth? Wow! He’s here? Now? And Stony Point is going to be his next subject? That is so amazing!”

  Ian’s face took on a bemused aspect. “So, it appears you’ve heard of this guy.”

  “Heard of him? Well, yes! He’s an incredibly talented artist. I saw a program about him on public TV a long time ago, and when he had an exhibition in Texas a couple of years ago, Wayne and I went to see it. It was just so interesting, and his paintings are breathtaking. I can’t believe he’s here; though, now that I think about it, Stony Point is right up his alley. This is so exciting!”

  “I think we’ve established that you’re impressed,” Ian said with an air of ambivalence. “What else do you know about him?”

  “Well—just what I learned from the television program, and the brochure from the art exhibit, really. It’s so fascinating how he works. When he started as a young artist, he hit on the idea of traveling to each state in the Union and finding a small town that he felt was representative of that state’s “personality.” After studying the locale he’s chosen—its landscape, its architecture, and even, to a certain extent, the history of the town and its citizens—he works up a series of paintings that shows significant images from the area and from the town’s past, including people, buildings, landmarks, et cetera. He avoids the bigger and better-known towns, saying that the small towns experience less change, and the people there still carry the flavor of the original settlers. He has a knack for communicating the character of a place and of the people who live there. I don’t know how he does it, but when you go to one of his exhibitions, you come away with an abiding impression that you’ve been introduced to an old friend. … That doesn’t make any sense does it? It’s like when you meet someone for the first time, but somehow you feel like you’ve known them your whole life.”

  Looking at Annie intently, Ian said, “It does make sense—I know exactly what you mean.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Then I guess you’re in for lunch with us today?”

  “Absolutely! Thanks so much for including me. You said he wants to paint a portrait of Grey Gables? That would be so wonderful. I think Gram would have liked to know that her home was being immortalized by a famous painter.”

  “From what you’ve said, I take it that you’ve never met Mr. Gareth in person.”

  “No, I’ve only seen him on that television program—and that was maybe ten years ago. The Texas exhibition was traveling all over the state—Austin, Dallas, Houston—it’s a big state. Anyway, I believe that Mr. Gareth had already moved on to begin his next project at that time. I guess between the time it takes to find the town he wants to focus on, and then the research, and choosing what he will be painting, and then the painting itself—I recall him saying on the program that it takes more than a year for each state. It really is the work of a lifetime.”

  “It seems fortunate that he chose Grey Gables as his subject; since you are already familiar with his work, I’m sure it will make his job here easier,” said Ian, with an “after-you” flourish of his hand.

  Annie and Ian began walking the short distance along Main Street, with its old-fashioned lampposts and coastal-town ambiance, to Maplehurst Inn, a charming colonial-style hotel with an adjoining restaurant where out-of-towners and locals went for a more formal dining experience than was to be found at The Cup & Saucer.

  Annie fell silent, and Ian seemed to sense that she didn’t want to engage in conversation as they walked. In fact, in her mind she was reliving the day that she and Wayne had made the short journey into Dallas to see Andrew Gareth’s paintings. They didn’t often get to take extended vacations with the demands of their business, but they tried to get away on day or weekend trips, now and then, to take advantage of cultural events, like concerts and art shows, and to see some of the historical sites that preserved the rich history of Texas. One of the things that made the Gareth exhibition so interesting was the way it combined art and history. It had been such a wonderful outing. She had told Ian that it was “a couple of years ago,” but now she realized that it was also the last day trip she and Wayne had taken before his death. Only that morning, she had thought that she’d learned how to cope with her feelings of loss, but the familiar pain of his absence came to her again, and tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes.

  By then, she and Ian had reached the Inn. Ian opened the glass door and followed Annie into the spacious foyer. The hotel’s front desk was situated at one end and the entry to the restaurant at the other. In the transition from bright sunlight to the soft lighting of the entry, Annie was able to brush away a stray tear that had fallen down her cheek. She hoped that Ian didn’t notice, and she blinked several times to clear the remainder of the tears from her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she determined she would put aside those memories for the time being; it was best to revisit them only when she was alone.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Annie glanced around the inn’s elegantly decorated restaurant to see if she could recognize the famous painter. She had only seen his image on television and on the brochure she had picked up at the exhibition in Texas. The dining room was packed—it was the height of the tourist season, and local hotels were fully booked; from the looks of things, restaurants were seeing business boom as well. With so many people, Annie doubted that she would be able to pick out Mr. Gareth.

  She was saved the effort when the hostess approached them. “Mr. Mayor! It’s nice to see you here again. Mr. Gareth is already seated—he told me that he’d be meeting with ‘Mr. Butler.’ I assumed it must be you—I don’t often see your brother Todd in here in the middle of a weekday. Hi Annie! Will you be joining them?”

  Annie nodded, and Ian said, “Hi Kellie—nice to see you too. Yes, Annie’s joining us today. Hope there’s room. Glad to see that the restaurant is doing well.”

  Kellie answered, “No worries; I seated him at a table for four. I know how you are about bringing along ‘extras.’ And yes, business has been grea
t. It seems like we have more tourists every season. They must have heard about our hunky mayor and want to have a look for themselves,” she said with a mischievous grin. “If you’ll just follow me, now, I’ll lead you to Mr. Gareth.”

  Picking up a couple of menus on her way, Kellie led Annie and Ian to a table across the room, where there was seated a darkly attractive, middle-aged man with wavy black hair, and a short, rather scruffy beard streaked with highlights of gray. As Andrew Gareth rose to greet them, the smile that appeared on his lips carried through to his dark brown eyes, but the expression on his face was nevertheless distant, as if he was in another world. He was tall and angular, and to Annie he looked as though he had just stepped out of a painting by El Greco.

  “Mayor Butler, I presume,” said Andrew, offering his hand to Ian. Turning to Annie, he said, “And do I have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Butler?”

  Ian smiled; Annie blushed and replied, “No, Mr. Gareth, I’m Annie Dawson. I own Grey Gables, and Ian tells me that you would like to make a painting of my home.”

  “Yes! That’s right. It’s a wonderful house from the Victorian era, and there is such an interesting history surrounding the original owner, Zacharias Grey,” said Andrew.

  “Do you mean Captain Grey?” asked Annie.

  “Yes. Captain Zacharias Grey. He had a long career as a merchant seaman. I have a particular interest in his life. He accomplished a great deal, but there was so much sadness too.”

  Annie said, “It’s quite a coincidence, hearing that name for the second time today when I only just heard of Captain Grey for the very first time this morning. I’d be very interested to learn what you know about him, and about the history of Grey Gables before my grandparents bought the house, Mr. Gareth.”

  “Please call me Andrew, and I hope I may call you Ian and Annie. Let’s all have a seat.” As he pulled out a chair for Annie, he said, “At present, I’d really just like to talk about the locations I’m considering as subjects for my Maine exhibition. The knowledge that longtime local residents have to impart is often as valuable to me as the information I find in libraries and at historical societies.”