Lost and Gowned

by Melissa F. Miller

  I zipped along the access road until it dumped the truck out onto the gravel ribbon that led to the back of the resort. My heart rate had slowed almost to normal, although I couldn’t stop myself from looking behind me every few seconds to confirm I was alone.

  But by the time I’d parked the truck and gathered up the dress to deliver it to Rosemary’s room, I had almost convinced myself that the entire situation had been a figment of my imagination.

  Chapter 10

  Rosemary

  Sage had hung around in my room after Thyme left with Chelle and my dress. I could tell she wanted to have a heart-to-heart, but I was too distracted for a sisterly sit down. I assumed she wanted to talk about my upcoming transition from single to married or some similarly sentimental subject. Her endearing mushiness is what made Sage Sage, but I didn’t have time for mush—not until I managed to whittle down my to-do list. By a lot.

  So, after a bit, I suggested she go check on our aunts, uncles, and cousins who’d made the trip in for the wedding while I got started on my cake. Sage, being Sage, instantly offered to help me gather the ingredients and make the batter, but I told her that baking as meditation only works when the baker is alone. She understood and set off to find our Aunt Ruby.

  I headed to the mudroom off the kitchen to borrow a pair of gardening gloves, shears, and a basket from the racks by the door. Then I followed the stone path outside the door as it wound through the grounds, past the vegetable gardens on the left and the riotous flower gardens on the right. At the stone bench my dad had installed in honor of my mother’s fiftieth birthday, I made a big loop behind the labyrinth where guests could experience walking meditation. On the other side of the maze, I ducked under a canopy of overgrown tree branches and entered the herb garden.

  My plan was to gather the lavender and any of the other aromatic herbs that looked appealing then stop by the flower gardens to snip some honeysuckle on my way back to the kitchen. The decorative flowers for the cake topper would have to wait until later in the afternoon when the sun wasn’t so high. I didn’t want them to wilt before I had a chance to crystallize them.

  I crouched beside the lavender plants. For this early in the season, the sun beat hot on the back of my neck. The only sounds were of birds singing and the rhythmic snip of my shears cutting through the herbs. Once I filled my basket, I stood to leave.

  But, my feet had plans of their own, and I found myself detouring to the far corner of the garden, right at the crest of the hill, where my parents had planted the namesake plot—rosemary, sage, parsley, and thyme stood in tidy concentric circles surrounded by a round, white fence. I rested my basket under a tree and leaned against the trunks, smiling as the childhood memories came rushing back like water over rocks.

  I remembered the game of garden tag Sage, Thyme, and I had created one summer. The rules constantly evolved, becoming increasingly complex as the weeks wore on. But, somehow, whenever the children of guests happened to turn up in the garden, the visitors seamlessly slipped into the game, changing it yet again in the process.

  I laughed softly to myself. I don’t often indulge in walks down memory lane. And, after the way the three of us came to own the resort, I tried hard not to think about my parents at all. But I guess the day before a girl’s wedding was as good a time as any for a bout of nostalgia. My eyes swam with tears—at what, I wasn’t sure. But I turned away from the garden and stared out over the horizon until the sadness passed.

  After a while, I picked up my basket and turned to leave. That’s when I saw two sets of sunglass-shrouded eyes staring at me from deep within the thicket of bushes to my right. I gasped and almost dropped the basket.

  The people who’d been watching me turned and raced down the hill toward the beach. I chased them halfheartedly for several yards, calling after them to wait. I realized that was probably not the safest response to being stalked, but I wanted to find out who they were and why they’d been crouching in my bushes.

  As the pair curved right to follow the shoreline, my eyes focused on their floppy, wide-brimmed hats. I realized they’d both had pairs of binoculars hanging around their necks. When I put that information together with the matching khaki vests and shorts they were wearing, I realized I must have startled the bird-watching Simons. Oddly enough, Parsley, our family cat, was trotting along behind them. He generally gave strangers a wide berth, but I suppose he figured they’d lead him to a delectable feathered snack.

  I felt moderately bad about startling them, but they’d certainly reacted oddly to having stumbled across someone in their hunt for blackbirds and thrushes. I didn’t have time to track them down and apologize. I had a wedding cake to bake. I changed course and cut across the lawn in a diagonal, stopping to pick some honeysuckles before going back to the kitchen.

  But when I entered the kitchen, Thyme was leaning against the big commercial refrigerator, tapping her foot.

  “There you are. Chelle finished your dress. Let’s go back to your room so you can try it on.”

  I dropped the basket on the counter. “I really need to get this cake batter started,” I stalled.

  Thyme fixed me with a look. “Rosemary, we have to make sure it fits. If you come try it on now, I promise I’ll help you with your batter.”

  I couldn’t stifle my laugh. First Sage, and now Thyme. It was sweet that they wanted to help me bake this cake. But the last time I checked, their kitchen skills were firmly in the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and takeout menu category. I wrapped a clean dishcloth around the lavender and honeysuckle flowers and stuck the bundle in the refrigerator.

  “Okay, I’ll try on the dress, but then I want you guys to promise to leave me alone till I get this blasted cake in the oven.”

  She beamed at me. “It’s a deal.”

  Then she pulled me through the door like a kid excited to go find Christmas presents under the tree. Correction: the way I imagine a kid excited to find Christmas presents under her tree would act. MJ and Bart Field didn’t celebrate Christmas. Or Hanukkah. And the winter equinox was generally not a time of gift giving. Thinking about my parents reminded me of the herb garden.

  “I was harvesting my lavender and I ran into that couple, the Simons.”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “No, and it was kind of weird, actually. They were in the bushes—looking for birds, I guess. When I spotted them, they took off running for the beach. We should ask Kay to tell them they don’t have to hide. They just can’t crash the wedding.”

  Thyme nodded. “I’ll let her know.”

  As we reached the door to my room, I mused, “I just hope they don’t run into that weird guy on the beach.”

  “What weird guy?”

  I waved my hand. “Never mind; it’s a long story.”

  Thyme pursed her lips and waited.

  “There was some man down on the beach this morning while we were having the rehearsal,” I said.

  “He could have been a jogger who got lost and ended up on our private beach. It happens all the time.”

  She was right that it happened all the time. But the man in the suit was no runner who’d gone off course. I just shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.”

  I dug into my pocket for the key to my room, but Thyme put her hand on my arm. “You left it unlocked. That’s how I got in with the dress.”

  I blinked at her. “Did I really?”

  “You must have.” She studied me closely but didn’t say anything further.

  I could have sworn I’d locked the door. I turned the knob and, sure enough, the door swung open. She trailed me into the room.

  She’d hung the dress on the vintage wire dress form standing between the mirror in the corner and the French doors that opened directly out onto a small patio overlooking the grounds. As it did every time I saw it, the gown took my breath away. I only hoped it would have the same effect on Dave. I shrugged out of my sundress and Thyme zipped me into my wedding dress.

  I smoothed
my hands along the delicate overlay of lace. It definitely fit more snuggly than it had just a few hours earlier. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about standing in my underpants in front of all of our guests tomorrow. I did a little turn to admire myself in the mirror.

  “You’re luminous,” Thyme said in a hushed voice.

  I met her eyes in the mirror. “I think you mean sweaty. It was hot out in the garden.”

  She giggled, then held up a hand. “I know you want to get back to your cake. Let me just go find Sage so she can see you in the dress before you take it off. We don’t want her to feel left out.”

  As much as I did want to get back to the kitchen, I knew Thyme was right. If Sage found out Thyme had seen me in the altered dress and she hadn’t, her feelings would be hurt.

  “Okay,” I agreed “but make it snappy. I really need to get my cakes in the oven.”

  She nodded and ran out the door.

  Chapter 11

  Sage

  I was putting the finishing touches on the wedding favors when Thyme burst into the parlor, out of breath and red-faced.

  “Do you ever just walk into a room anymore?” I asked mildly curious, as I cut lengths of pale blue satin ribbon to exactly eighteen inches.

  “It doesn’t seem like it,” she admitted. “But I’m in a hurry for a reason this time. Do you want to see Rosemary in her dress?”

  I placed the scissors and the ribbon on the table and stood. “Sure. These can wait.” I waved my hand over the table.

  The three of us had spent a weekend last month making jars of rosemary sea salt and bottling tiny tubes of tupelo honey—a nod to Rosemary and Dave’s childhood homes, her name, and their personalities—a little bit salty, a little bit sweet. The favors were cute, personal, and would be yummy, if I did say so myself. And, perhaps most important of all, because we made them ourselves, they’d turned out to be fairly inexpensive. And Rosemary and Dave were stretching every dime in their budget as far as it would go.

  Thyme said, “She looks gorgeous. And she wants you to see her in it. But we have to hurry so she can get started on her cakes.”

  My eyes widened. “Get started? What’s she been doing all afternoon?”

  She shook her head as we headed toward Rosemary’s room. “I know, it seems like she should be further along than she is. She did get the herbs from the garden. Oh, and I guess she ran into those bird watchers while she was out there,” she added casually.

  My heart skipped a beat and my mind started to race. “She met the Simons?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

  “I wouldn’t say she met them, exactly. She spotted them in the bushes, and they ran away. I think Kay might’ve scared them into thinking they’re not allowed to be out and about in public at all this weekend. I told Rosemary I’d talk to Kay about it,” she assured me.

  I found my voice and said, “No! I’ll do it.”

  Thyme gave me a strange look—probably because my tone had been so sharp.

  I blew out a long breath and tried again. “I mean, I know you’re busy with the decorations. I’ll take care of it for you.”

  “However you want to do it,” she murmured.

  I rapped softly on Rosemary’s door.

  There was no answer.

  “Rosemary?” I called after moment.

  Still no answer. We looked at each other. Then Thyme shrugged and turned the doorknob.

  “Rosemary, are you decent?” she asked as she opened the door, and we stepped inside.

  The empty garment bag lay draped over the back of the Queen Anne chair near the window. Rosemary’s sundress and shoes were in a tidy pile on the floor beside the mirror. But Rosemary and the wedding gown were nowhere to be seen.

  The French doors that opened to the patio were ajar. A chill crept up my spine, but I kept my voice steady. “She’s probably in the bathroom.”

  Thyme’s face was drawn, but she nodded gamely. “Right, the bathroom.”

  We stood in silence for half a minute, waiting for Rosemary to come out of the bathroom even though we both knew she wasn’t in there. After a bit, Thyme pushed the bathroom door open and stuck her head into the room.

  “She’s not in there,” Thyme informed me unnecessarily.

  “Maybe she decided to go back to the kitchen—” I began lamely.

  “Wearing her wedding dress?” Thyme countered.

  I shrugged, but she was right. Rosemary would have changed her clothes first. And put on her shoes, I thought, looking down at the sandals by the chair. Everything about this picture was wrong.

  Thyme walked over to the French doors. “And why are these doors open?” She pulled them shut with a sharp click.

  “Maybe she decided she needed more lavender and took the shortcut across the lawn. Or maybe she just wanted some fresh air and forgot to close them before she went … wherever she went. I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  Thyme lowered herself into the chair and leaned back against the garment bag. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before meeting my eyes. “I’m not so sure. I thought someone might have been following me when I was in town. A guy in a suit. It really kind of freaked me out.”

  “A guy in a suit? Do you mean a business suit?”

  She nodded. “Right. He clearly didn’t belong in Seashore. He stood outside the candy shop the entire time I was waiting for Chelle to make the alterations. Then, when I left, he was across the street pretending to look into the old bank building. But he was watching me.” Her voice shook.

  I crossed the floor and put my arm around her narrow, trembling shoulders. “Do you think he followed you here?” I asked gently.

  She tried to catch her breath. “I don’t know. I took the shortcut through the Dowells’ farm. And I didn’t see anyone behind me. But I got a bad vibe from the whole thing. And now Rosemary is missing.”

  “She’s not missing. She’s just not here.” Even as I said it, I fully realized how stupid it sounded.

  Thyme ignored my statement entirely. “And she said there was some weirdo wandering around down on the beach earlier today.”

  She said it under her breath, more to herself than to me, but I latched onto it.

  “What kind of weirdo on the beach?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t want to talk about it. But it obviously bothered her because she was worried the bird watchers might run into him.”

  I pursed my lips and thought, trying to make sense of it. “You don’t think she … changed her mind, do you?”

  “About getting married? No way,” Thyme insisted. “Not Rosemary. No, Sage, something bad happened. I can feel it.”

  My heart sank. I sort of hoped she’d just taken off to clear her head, but I had to agree with Thyme. Rosemary’s disappearance seemed ominous—not to mention out of character. “Yeah, me, too,” I admitted.

  “Should we call the police? Or tell somebody? Organize a search of the grounds?”

  I took a few seconds to consider what I was about to do, but I really didn’t have any other choice. “Not yet. Come with me.”

  I took her by the elbow and led her to the door. I turned the knob, pushed the door open, and came face-to-face with Rosemary’s fiancé.

  Chapter 12

  Thyme

  I reached behind my back and pulled the door to Rosemary’s room shut with a sharp bang. Then I pasted a smile on my face.

  “Hi, Dave,” I chirped.

  I risked a glance at Sage. She’d gone wide-eyed and pale. I wasn’t surprised.

  Of the three of us, she was the worst liar. And, of the three of us, I was the best. I’ve always chalked it up to being the youngest and having the most vivid imagination. Whatever the cause, my ability to spin whoppers was about to come in handy. I leaned back against the door and tried to look casual.

  “Hi, Sage. Hi, Thyme,” Dave said.

  He waited for me to move.

  I didn’t budge.

  “I’m just going
to see if Rosemary wants to take a walk.” He jerked his head to the side as if to say ‘so, kindly move it.’

  “You can’t see her right now,” I told him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I can’t? Who’s going to stop me?” he asked in a voice that made clear he was mostly, but not entirely, joking.

  Beside me, Sage was still mute.

  “We are. You can’t go in there because she’s wearing her wedding dress.”

  His eyes filled with comprehension. “Really?”

  “Yep.” As far as I knew, it was the truth.

  That’s the thing about a good lie: it always contains a kernel of truth. If your lie is built on the truth, even a rookie like Sage could keep the ball rolling.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Sage chimed in, “It was a little loose, so Chelle did some last-minute alterations so it’ll fit like a glove tomorrow.”

  I felt a bizarre flush of pride at how well she’d handled the question.

  Dave nodded. “Okay, thanks for warning me. I’ll just give her a few minutes to get decent and then I’ll—”

  I grabbed him by the arm and said, “You’ll have to see her later. She actually just sent us to come find you. We need you to help us with something.”

  I guided him away from the room while I searched my mind for a task to occupy him with while we tracked down his missing bride.

  “We were? I mean, we were!” Sage said.

  I quickened my pace but tried not to make it obvious that I was hustling him away from the door. In a flash of brilliance, I steered him through the hall back to the parlor where I’d been working on the favors.

  “Here’s the thing,” I told him. “Sage and I have to take care of something with Kay. So, Rosemary thought you could lend us a hand and finish packaging up these gift bags.”

  Dave made a skeptical face. “Really? She said she wants me to do this?”