Saying Yes to the Mess

by M. Kate Quinn

  Rylee held her note cards in her hands, and even though her knees were knocking, she felt good, sure. She tried her best to keep away the vision of Darius Wirth that knocked on the walls of her mind. But her brain would not cooperate. Periodically he’d appear in her head, dark eyes filled with emotion, his gorgeous mouth pulled down at the corners. She would not let him affect her. Not anymore.

  The bridesmaids took their places in a line on the runway, and Rylee stepped up to the podium the show provided. From her periphery she could see the cameras on her and on the attendees. The heat of the lamps penetrated her skin. It was time.

  “Welcome,” she began, and a hush came over the crowded room. The silence unnerved her. All eyes were on her face, all eyes waited. She swallowed hard. “Thank you all for coming today to celebrate the reopening of Rosie’s Bridals.” She took a breath when she noticed her mother’s eyes on her. Angie beamed.

  “Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen glitch, the sample gowns have not yet arrived for our fashion show.” She did her best not to stop dead at the murmuring among the women and the way heads turned to utter whispers. She’d get through this. This would work.

  “Our models are wearing bridesmaid’s gowns from the new collection of DeMonet Gowns, and you all can get a better look as they hand out pamphlets printed by the bridal designer. You’ll see all the selections Rosie’s Bridals will carry in the store, and we expect delivery soon.” Any minute by a lying snake.

  With that the models took their cue and paraded down the runway and gracefully stepped off at the end and began handing out the materials provided by the designer.

  “Before you look at the gorgeous selections for the coming season, I’d like to say one thing. These wonderful dresses are not just available here at Rosie’s Bridals. There are many, many bridal shops that can accommodate you if all you’re looking for is the dress of your dreams. We have not cornered the market on dream dresses. But what we do have that sets us apart from the others is history. Let me take you on a little journey to the past.”

  Right on cue, the music softly began and the first former bride stepped out from the back room and up onto the runway. Shelly Britton.

  Shelly had lost weight since her wedding day and looked wonderful. The square-necked A-line gown was pinned close to her slimmer frame by Kit’s expert hands. Shelly was radiant as she made her way down the runway and stopped at the end.

  “Hi, everyone,” she said in a tentative voice. She cleared her throat. “If you’d known me three years ago when I first came into Rosie’s Bridals, you’d know how funny this is for me to be standing here today in front of all of you and not hiding behind a curtain. Let me tell you what this place means to me.”

  Shelly told her story of past insecurity and how Rosie had helped her feel more confident, helped her feel beautiful for her big day. Since then she’d used that newborn confidence to develop a healthier lifestyle, and she told the packed house how Rosie was instrumental in her new path.

  Next was former bride Jenny McDade, who came out from the back room carrying her lace sheath on a satin-covered hanger. In her other arm, sitting at her hip, was a toddler, her daughter, who shyly sucked her thumb while her mommy paraded down the runway.

  Jenny told the tale of how she’d been pregnant when she married her husband and with no close female relatives, had lacked guidance. Her inclination had been to purchase a gown that might camouflage a budding baby bump. But, no. After spending time at Rosie’s Bridals and after many cups of herbal tea and rounds of chitchat, Jenny had decided on the revealing silhouette of the lace sheath. When everyone applauded her, the baby girl on her hip clapped her pudgy hands as well.

  One by one, former brides walked down the runway and told their unique stories. When Megan Harris, the dark-haired beauty whose groom had been killed in a car wreck, made her way down the runway, the murmurs among the audience stopped. Many people in Sycamore River knew of her tragedy. Megan told her story of how Rosie had become a close friend and when she had found herself a widow, Rosie had been often at her side. She spoke of her gratitude to Rosie’s Bridals for making her wedding day a memory that will always bring her comfort. The women seated in the rows of rented chairs passed travel-sized packages of tissues to each other, many dabbing at their eyes.

  Kit came up behind Rylee and whispered into her ear. “There’s a white van parked out back. Darius and Jake have been here for a while. They’ve been watching from the back room this whole time.”

  ****

  Darius listened to the last bride tell her tale. You could hear a pin drop in the room. The attendees were riveted to the stories these women had to tell. They’d even managed to have Jake keep his trap shut, which was monumental.

  Finally, Jake spoke up. “Well, look at your flake saving the day, huh?” He poked Darius. “Now you go out there with this rack of samples and steal that thunder.”

  He’d had Jake’s number from way back, but this behavior tipped the scales. Here was a man who knew nothing but opportunity, as long as it served him. Darius wanted to provide opportunity, but not for Jake or some paper manufacturer or for his own damn paycheck. He finally realized that, and it felt good. Damn good.

  “Come on,” Jake prodded, as if Darius were a disobedient dog. “Get going.”

  “Oh, I plan to.” He pushed through the doorway with the dresses swinging on the chrome pole of the wheeled cart.

  “The samples,” Emma called out in theatrical surprise from a corner of the room. “Rylee, the gowns have arrived!”

  Darius wheeled the cart down the runway and stopped with enough room for him to walk around the cart and stand facing the seated guests. A round of applause sounded as he took a minibow before them. “Hello,” he said with his winning-most smile. “Hello, everyone.” His gaze found Rylee, and somehow she managed to keep from showing her disdain. But it was there. He felt it like a slap of her hand.

  He talked about the dresses and the hard work of Rylee and her staff and then asked Rylee to join him on the platform. She came over with a smile on her face. She looked incredible in all black, ponytail swinging. She was sleek, feline, and his heart thumped with yearning and more. Pride. Rylee McDermott had pulled this off without the machinations of Wirth More.

  After a few pleasantries Darius gave the floor to Rylee, who thanked everyone for coming, invited them to enjoy some refreshments and peruse the sample gowns. As she was doing so, a woman in the crowd stood up and raised her hand.

  “Excuse me,” she called from her place in the row. “Can I just say something?”

  Rylee’s face flushed hot as she looked over at the woman. “Gracie.” The name rode from her lips on a whoosh of air.

  The young woman squeezed past the ladies seated near her and came up onto the platform to stand beside Rylee. She leaned in and whispered to her. “Rylee, I hope this is okay.”

  The woman named Gracie faced the audience. “Hi.” She uttered a nervous titter. “My name is Gracie Stern. I’m a Rosie’s bride as well. My circumstance was that my dad was gravely ill, and in order to fulfill my lifelong dream of my daddy walking me down the aisle”—her voice hitched—“I needed a special favor. I needed to move my wedding up, and that required me to have a dress like in no time.”

  She looked over to Rylee and nudged her with her shoulder. “This lady here came up with the idea of my buying one of the samples. Apparently, this is a major problem for bridal shops, so don’t even think about it. But in my case, in my need, it was Rylee who went to bat for me, made it happen. Granted, Rosie had to okay it, but it was Rylee who came to my rescue. I just wanted you all to know that Rosie’s Bridals is in good hands with Rosie’s granddaughter.” She and Rylee embraced amidst a round of applause.

  The brides-to-be and those with them moved to inspect the newly arrived dresses, then over to the display of cookies and flutes of sparkling cider. The mood in the room was upbeat, the energy high. This day was a success. And it had nothing at all to do with Wirth
More. This day belonged to Rylee McDermott.

  Soon the cameras had been turned off and the show’s job was done. Darius found a moment to approach Rylee, who was replenishing the creamer at the coffee station. “You did a great job, Rylee.”

  She turned to him with cool eyes. “Uh-huh.”

  “We meet again amidst coffee and all its makings,” he quipped. She did not bite.

  “Is there something else?” She wiped her hands with a paper towel, wadded it, and tossed it into a trash can with a flourish. “Kind of busy.”

  “We, uh, we just got word the show is set to air next Friday.”

  “Okay.” She shook her head. “Hope you get everything out of it you set out for.”

  Then she walked away. Darius watched Rylee engage with a new bride-to-be. She was a natural. Maybe she hadn’t known it weeks ago when he first met her. But she knew it now. His heart lurched. Rylee hadn’t needed the new gowns, and she sure as hell did not need him. Right now, though, he needed to meet the buyer of the painting and disappoint yet one more person on this godforsaken day.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The morning after the show aired, Darius was summoned to the offices of Wirth More. The episode was a hit, as he knew it would be, and everyone was celebrating. A continental breakfast spread was arrayed in the center of the conference table. The top brass of Parker Paper had been in negotiations with Jake and his minions, and they were on board for another season. Mimosas were handed out to everyone, and Jake made one of his self-aggrandizing speeches, thanking everyone but really giving credit to himself. The words went through Darius like a breeze escaping an open window. Just air.

  When the group dissipated, Darius was left alone with Jake, and he was anxious to speak his mind.

  Jake put an arm around Darius’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We did it, man. We’re in for another year.”

  “Jake, I meant what I said about being done. The show’s going to have to be revamped, and I’m sure you’ll find the right host. But me, I’m not signing on.”

  “You have to.” The smile left Jake’s face. He looked as if he might start swinging. “You owe me.”

  Darius let out a laugh. Everybody owed Jake in his mind. “I’ve paid up in full, Jake, and I’m walking away.”

  “And what are you going to do, huh? Without me, what the hell do you think you’re going to do that’s going to give you enough dough to afford your lifestyle?” He folded his arms and angled his head.

  “I’m going to do what I set out to do in the first place. Help businesses thrive.”

  “That’s not going to keep you on the waterfront in Hoboken.”

  “You’re right. And I’ll tell you what, Jake. I’ll give you right of first refusal. The unit’s going up for sale, and if you’d like to buy it, it’s yours. Market value. No more, no less.”

  “You’re going to sell.” It wasn’t a question. “You’re serious.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can be closer to my dad, who, thanks to the sale of my condo, will be able to stay in his facility.”

  “I thought you were selling that painting for the money.”

  “Can’t sell the pinnacle of my family’s heritage. It’s history.”

  “Oh Christ, now you sound like the girl in the bridal shop. Life moves forward, buddy, not backward.”

  “That’s where I’m headed, uh, buddy. Forward.” Darius turned to leave and then looked back at Jake. “Let me know if you want the condo. First come, first served.”

  ****

  Rylee found herself alone in the store. Now that the show was behind her, she was officially open for business as the new proprietor of Rosie’s Bridals. The episode had been good. Even she had to admit it. How the editing people managed to make all that footage look like one sequential progression amazed her. Her shop was made to look good, and the part about the history was sentimental, and she was grateful that part of it didn’t wind up being edited out.

  She hadn’t seen Darius in days. As much as she felt she’d grown, changed, over these last weeks, getting the wrong guy out of her head was going to take more time. She was just so sad that he’d turned out to be a louse.

  The air outside was cold, and she was chilled to the bone despite the large mug of tea she had pressed between her hands. She’d pulled on Rosie’s cardigan sweater, the scents of Rosie still wafting to meet her nose.

  “We did it, Rosie,” she whispered in the empty store. She put down the mug of tea and snuggled deeper in the sweater she wrapped around her frame. “Promise me you’ll always be nearby helping me out.”

  The knock at the door startled her. Under the lamplight she saw the flash of Superman hair and the profile of his chiseled face. Darius.

  She didn’t have to let him in. This was her store. He knocked again and lifted his hand to show he was holding a cup of coffee from Jo-Jo’s Java House.

  If she turned away now, she would spend too much time wondering. Wondering what he had to say. She needed to put this to rest now. The only way to move past something was to look at it for real. She opened the door.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Darius extended the coffee cup toward her. “Caramel macchiato.”

  “I have tea.”

  “Extra caramel.”

  The aroma teased her. She reached out and accepted the cup. “Thank you. But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to bring me coffee.”

  “No, I did not.”

  They walked deeper into the store. She had only the desk lamp on, and the room was dim with pale light. Shadows did attractive things to the planes of Darius Wirth’s face.

  She took a pull of the pungent drink and put the cup down on the desk. “Darius, look, I’m grateful for what the show did for my store and all, but there’s really nothing left to talk about.”

  “Let me say this, okay,” he said. “Please.”

  It was hard to look away from those dark eyes. They sent a chill through her, and she wrapped Rosie’s sweater tighter around her body. She waited.

  “I did a lot of things wrong in the last couple of years. I’d forgotten who I am in here.” He placed an open hand to his chest. “But meeting you, spending time, real time, with my father, and revisiting my hometown has done something to me. Made me remember.”

  Rylee swallowed hard. Oh, please stop saying all the right things, Darius Wirth. I’ve only been a grownup for a few days, and I might forget to hate you.

  “I don’t know what…”

  “I quit the show.”

  “You what?”

  “Quit. Oh, and I’ve sold my condo in Hoboken.” He chuckled shyly. “Jake bought it. He’s always wanted it anyway.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Well, now I have the money to pay for my father to stay in The Memory Center. And I’ll have enough to get a small place here in town.”

  “You’re moving to Sycamore River?”

  “Yes. I’m going to consult, find a way to help small independent businesses. Make a difference.”

  “Wow,” she said, unable to process the news. “Wow.”

  “You knew about the delay in the dresses, didn’t you?” he said. Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “Don’t tell me how you knew. I don’t care. But when you talked about the history of this place and how important it has been, I just knew what I had to do.” Darius took a step closer. “I almost sold my mother’s portrait in order to get the money for my father’s facility. But it was your talk at the fashion show that convinced me I was making a big mistake. So thank you.”

  Her throat was constricted, and she couldn’t speak. And her heart thudded in her chest. She took a razorblade swallow. “That’s a lot of news, Darius. Congratulations. I think?”

  “Yes, congratulations are in order. I’m surer of what I want and where I’m headed than I’ve ever been. As a matter of fact, I’m headed up to The Memory Center now to bring my father the portrait. It�
�s in the car I’ve been leasing. I figure it belongs to him. And for those moments when he comes back to us and knows who he is, I want him to see the portrait that started it all.”

  “That’s…” She stopped for fear her voice would break. She swallowed. “That’s great.”

  “I have two questions for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you forgive me for being an ass and making a mess out of what you and I feel for each other? I’ve fallen in love with you, Rylee, and I think you love me too.” He took a small step closer. “And if I promise to do better, will you take a chance on me?”

  Rylee dug her hands into the sweater pockets, and the fingers of her left hand touched a piece of paper. She withdrew it. The post-it note from Rosie about Gracie Stern, the bride who wanted to buy a sample gown.

  Well, Rosie, looks like you’re still with me.

  So Rylee said the words, the very words she knew by heart, the ones written on the little pale pink piece of paper bordered by rosebuds.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes to it all!”

  A word about the author…

  Born to a feisty Italian mother and a gentle blue-eyed Irishman, award-winning author M. Kate Quinn draws on her quirky sense of humor, hopelessly romantic nature, highly developed sense of family and friendship, and her love for a good story while writing her novels.

  Her Perennials Series began with Summer Iris (July 2010, The Wild Rose Press, Inc.), a Golden Quill Award finalist for Best First Book. The second, Moonlight and Violet (June 2011, The Wild Rose Press, Inc.) won the coveted Golden Leaf Award for Best Contemporary Novel 2011. The last in the series, Brookside Daisy (February 2012, The Wild Rose Press, Inc.) was a Golden Leaf Award finalist.

  Her next project, The Ronan’s Harbor Series, was a pair of romances set in a quaint shore town. The first installment, Letters and Lace, was released in June 2013 (The Wild Rose Press, Inc.). The second book in the series, Restless Spirit, was released in June 2015 (The Wild Rose Press, Inc.).