The Right Wedding Gown

by Shirley Hailstock

  As they got out of the elevator on the fourth floor, she wished her apartment was at the farthest end of the building

  She needed time to decide what to do at her door, what to say. She hated the awkward moment of saying good-night at the end of a date. This hadn’t been a date, but it had all the earmarks of one as they approached the louvered door of her dwelling.

  Samara pushed her key into the lock and opened the door.

  “Thank you, Justin,” she said coolly.

  She turned back, intent on telling him he could leave now that she was home safe, but she never got the chance.

  She didn’t know how she got in his arms, why she pressed her body against his or why her hands were on his forearms. She felt his warm breath on her mouth as they held their lips just inches apart from one another. Swallowing, Samara couldn’t speak. Her heart leaped into her throat, pounding with the same force as a tornado swirling from sky to land. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. When did they get to be so brown? And why did it feel so right to be in his arms?

  Books by Shirley Hailstock

  Kimani Romance

  Wrong Dress, Right Guy

  Nine Months with Thomas

  The Right Wedding Gown

  SHIRLEY HAILSTOCK

  is an author of twenty novels and novellas. She has received numerous awards for her work, including a Holt Medallion, a Barclay Gold Award and a Waldenbooks award for bestselling romance. Romantic Times BOOKreviews presented her with a Career Achievement Award, and one of her books made the Top 100 Romances of the 20th Century list.

  Shirley’s books have appeared on Blackboard’s and the Library Journal’s bestseller lists. Shirley lives in central New Jersey with her family and is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

  Shirley loves to sew and bake, but she can’t find the time to sew, and baking is way too fattening. She loves to hear from fans. You can e-mail her at shirley.hailstock@comcast.net or browse her Web site at www.geocities.com/shailstock.

  The Right Wedding Gown

  Shirley Hailstock

  To my Aunt Carolyn

  She always knew the right dress—

  wedding or otherwise

  Dear Reader,

  The most common question a writer receives is, “Where did that idea come from?” In this case, it came from my love of weddings. Since I once worked in a bridal shop, I’ve seen countless gowns in just as many styles. I know the feeling of finding the most perfect gown in the world.

  This is what happens to Samara when she buys an old trunk. What she finds inside helps to give her perspective and to understand that while it may sometimes make you vulnerable, love is also the greatest gift we can ever receive.

  Justin Beckett has his own set of ideas about love, which keep getting in the way of him dating the girl of his dreams. But as we all know, love will find a way.

  I hope you enjoy your time with Samara and Justin. I know I have.

  Please feel free to contact me at

  shirley.hailstock@comcast.net or visit my

  Web site at www.geocities.com/shailstock.

  Sincerely yours,

  Shirley Hailstock

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Prologue

  Weddings and funerals bring out the absolute worst in families, Samara thought. And the Scott clan was no different. With the number of divorces and remarriages involved, multiple spouses increased the chaos exponentially. She and her sister, Cinnamon—the bride—share a father. Both sets of parents were present; Samara’s father and mother, her father’s ex-wife, Cinnamon’s mother and her third husband from whom she was divorced, and all the noise that came with their approach. Samara had to give them credit, though. At least they waited until the bride and groom left before war broke out.

  In Samara’s experience, ex-wives and current wives never liked each other. And that goes for ex-husbands and current ones, too. She could name several friends who were divorced and remarried. Yet, they couldn’t be seated in the same room with their exes without a heavy atmosphere of hostility. Since neither of Cinnamon’s parents were willing to stay away from their daughter’s wedding, they were an argument in the making.

  It started with a compliment. Samara’s mother said how much she liked Cinnamon’s mother’s gown and Jordana Winston-Scott-Roberts-Newton took exception to her tone, reading it as an insult instead of the intended compliment.

  Jordana proceeded to give her opinion of Mariette Scott’s choice of a stepmother-of-the-bride’s dress in colorful language. As they traded insults, all the while getting closer and closer to each, Samara could see an explosion was imminent.

  She and Rena, another of the bridesmaids, moved at the same time, quelling the argument by stepping between the emerging front lines. The divorced third husband led Jordana away. Samara took her father off for a dance and Rena asked Samara’s mother to help her with an adjustment to her gown that could only be done in the ladies’ room.

  The newlyweds, Samara’s sister and her new brother-in-law, MacKenzie Grier, would be able to join in the laughter after the dust settled and tempers cooled when they returned from their honeymoon and people reviewed the day with them. They could howl over all the discussions and the arguments related to the wedding particulars. Since they were absent for the actual events, it would all have settled calmly in everyone’s minds.

  Samara looked around the room at the guests. They were smiling or huddled in groups discussing what had happened. Her mother returned a step ahead of Rena. She was more composed and Samara smiled at her as she approached.

  Samara had plenty of role models. Her parents had never really loved each other. Her sister’s mother was beyond her third husband. Most of Samara’s friends were on the hunt for the second time. Despite this being a wedding, a ceremony that joined lives together, many of the guests were no longer sharing wedded bliss.

  For Samara, the wedding and its aftermath only reinforced her conviction that divorce or unhappiness was inevitable.

  She would never marry.

  Chapter 1

  The entrance to Shadow Walk was like going through the gates of Manderley. There was a dreamlike quality about the place that always came to mind when Samara Scott compared it to the opening paragraphs of Rebecca. The place had once been a country club that went bankrupt. It was bought for a song by her good friend Geri Muir. Geri restored the place, making it more glorious than it ever was. Shadow Walk housed a restaurant and several connected ballrooms. There were pro shops to support the golf course, tennis courts and indoor and outdoor swimming pools. On the property were several other buildings that Geri hadn’t decided how to use.

  Samara turned into the driveway. The road curved around, winding through manicured trees and rhododendrons. The last curve brought the main building into view. The architect intentionally set it far enough back so it would appear as a breathtaking surprise. A palatial structure, with a long front porch and heavy pillars, that could have been a Hollywood set. At night it was bathed in white light, making it even more dramatic.

  The place had begun as a residence, then the property had been converted into the country club and Geri had added a wedding chapel and dining halls when she took it over five years ago.

  Samara wasn’t there for a wedding, instead, an antique auction was her reason. Handing her keys to the valet, she stepped out into t
he hot, July humidity and quickly entered the building. Carmen, one of her small circle of best friends, stood inside the door.

  The two of them couldn’t be more alike if they were sisters. If Carmen hadn’t been born in Arizona and favored her parents, whom Samara had met, believing her friend was the product of Samara’s philandering father wouldn’t be a huge leap. They shared similar bone structure and facial shapes, but Carmen’s eyes were a hazel brown while Samara’s were dark brown. Samara stood a head taller than her friend. Carmen’s hair was sandy-colored, reminding Samara of the deserts of the southwest, while her own was dark brown and flowed to her shoulders. Likewise, their skin colors complemented their hair, Carmen’s light brown and Samara’s a dark brandy shade.

  “I thought you’d already be seated,” Samara said as they hugged hello.

  “I thought I’d better warn you first.”

  Samara stared at her. “Warn me about what?” Samara couldn’t keep her body from stiffening.

  “The person in the seat next to us.”

  Samara waited for her to go on. Finally, she asked. “Who is it?”

  “Justin Beckett.”

  The name was like a whiplash cutting through her stomach. “Beckett?” Her voice rose a couple of notes. Then, realizing people were turning to stare at her, she spoke in a whisper. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t we find different seats?”

  Carmen spread her hands. “The place is packed. And these seats are assigned.”

  Samara knew that. Carmen loved antiques and since Samara worked with old documents, she was the one Carmen tapped to accompany her whenever there was a show she wanted to attend. Samara wanted to turn around and leave, but she knew Carmen lived for these types of shows and Samara wasn’t about to let Justin Beckett drive her away.

  “Let’s go in,” she said.

  Carmen smiled with relief. “Atta girl.”

  Samara led. She knew that Carmen would try to take the seat next to Justin to save her the tension she felt whenever she and Justin were in the same room. She recognized the back of Justin’s head and identified the two empty seats next to him. The surprise on his face when he saw her was evident. He stood up as she approached, surprise turning into a large smile. She did not return it.

  “Samara,” he greeted her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Justin,” she said, managing to convey both greeting and dismissal in her tone. Taking her seat, she proceeded to ignore him.

  “I would have sat there,” Carmen whispered.

  “I will not be intimidated by him,” Samara whispered back.

  The auction began immediately, which included several estate sales and Carmen was excited about them. The auctioneer announced the first item, a set of antique glassware. With enthusiasm, the roomful of people jumped right into the action as if this was the prize of the show.

  As each item was brought in, introduced and bought, Carmen wasn’t very active in her participation, although Samara could feel the excitement in her friend whenever something came up she liked.

  “Is there something in particular you want?” Samara whispered.

  Carmen pointed to an item in the catalog. It was a desk.

  “You’re only here for one item?”

  “One I really want, but I like to see the other stuff and I’ll bid if something strikes me as interesting.”

  Samara had been to several of these auctions. She watched with interest as item by item was sold to the highest bidder. She noticed the bright look of happiness on the winners’ faces each time the gavel dropped and the award was made to someone.

  Then a trunk was brought to the stage. “This is a mystery item,” the auctioneer said. “The trunk was found in…”

  Samara leaned toward Carmen. “I want that,” she whispered.

  “Why? It could have nothing in it.”

  “I know, but it could have old letters, documents, books, anything.”

  “All right,” Carmen said.

  Samara worked with old documents, but she wasn’t a person living in an apartment full of antiques. A document could make her excited enough to wonder about the person who wrote it, the reason behind it, even research the history of it, but sitting at a hundred-year-old desk did nothing more for her than sitting at a desk made the day before.

  Carmen acknowledged the first bid. There were few challenges and on the third bid, the trunk was hers.

  “Congratulations,” Justin said next to her.

  Samara turned to nod at him. Then her attention went back to the auction. When the desk came up, the bidding was lively but mainly between Carmen and the man sitting next to Justin. After a moment, the man nodded at Carmen indicating his concession. The desk was hers. She smiled broadly.

  Justin hadn’t bid. He wasn’t even looking at the items or the auctioneer. Samara noticed that each time she glanced in his direction, Justin was staring at her.

  Leaning toward him after enduring his scrutiny for twenty minutes, she whispered, “Justin, you can look somewhere else. I am not one of the pieces.”

  “I understand,” he said. “You are no antique.” His smile was more a smirk than anything else.

  Samara cut her eyes at him and turned back to the auctioneer who pounded his hammer at the sale of a set of intricately carved ceramic tables. Why did she let Justin get under her skin? What had happened between them was years ago, when she first moved to the District. And before she knew what a jerk he could be.

  When the program ended, Samara followed Carmen to collect the trunk.

  “How are we going to get this to the van?” Samara asked, looking at her trunk. It had looked smaller on the stage, but now appeared gargantuan. She tested the weight by pulling on one of the handles. “It can’t be empty. It weighs a ton.”

  Carmen had arranged for her desk to be shipped. The trunk would fit into her van so they agreed to take it with them. Samara knew both of them were anxious to find out the contents, even if Carmen had said it could be empty. From her test, Samara was sure there was something inside.

  “Can we help you?” Justin said from behind her. Samara’s back straightened at the sound of his voice. “I have a hand truck that opens to a flatbed.”

  “We don’t need your help,” Samara said quickly. “I’ll get one of the guys to take it to the van.”

  They looked around. Everyone she saw was busy helping someone else.

  “It’s no bother,” the man with Justin said. Samara noticed he was the man who’d been sitting next to Justin.

  “This is my brother, Christian,” Justin introduced him. “We call him Chris. He owns an antique shop.”

  “Thank you, Chris. I’m Carmen.” She offered her hand and Chris shook it quickly, as did Justin.

  “Let me get that for you,” Chris said. He lifted the trunk and put it on the truck. In no time, he’d wheeled it to the van and slid it inside. Then the two women and two men stood awkwardly next to the vehicle.

  “Since you obviously like antiques,” Chris addressed Carmen, “I have a shop in Warrenton.” He handed her a card. “If you’re looking for something in particular, give me a call and I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

  Carmen looked at the card and with a smile slipped it into her purse. “Thank you. I will.”

  “We should be going,” Samara said.

  Carmen nodded.

  “It was good to meet you, Chris,” Carmen said.

  “Yes,” Samara echoed. She said nothing to Justin, but nodded her acknowledgment.

  “You were rather cold,” Carmen said after the two of them pulled in front of Samara’s apartment and were now angling the trunk into her living room.

  “What?”

  “To Justin and his brother. I know you and Justin don’t get along, but you acted as if he didn’t exist.”

  “He doesn’t,” Samara said. “Here’s fine.” She lowered her end of the trunk to the floor. Carmen did the same.

&n
bsp; “He obviously wants to get to know you better, and you treat him as if he has the plague.”

  “As far as I’m concerned he does have it.”

  “How could anyone that gorgeous have the plague? Seriously, Samara, what’s the history here? You never told any of us the full story.” Carmen was looking at her with her lawyer-cross-examining-the-witness pose.

  She was right. Samara hadn’t ever told them the whole story about her and Justin. At the time she didn’t know them that well. It had been a bad day and when she met the group for dinner, she didn’t want to remember anything that had happened that day. They had a few drinks, she relaxed and Justin Beckett disappeared from her thoughts.

  Samara sat down on the sofa. “I’d just come to Washington,” she began. “I met Justin almost immediately. During lunch at the Stafford Cafeteria.”

  Carmen took a seat across from her. She frowned. “The Stafford? What were you doing there?”

  “I didn’t know much about places to eat and I didn’t have all that much money until I got my first check. The Stafford gives you a substantial amount of food and it was good. I still go there occasionally.” And she still saw Justin there, too.

  “Too many tourists for my taste,” Carmen said.

  “I like watching the tourists sometimes,” Samara confessed. “Anyway, Justin asked to sit at my table one day. I was reading a book and craved having someone to talk to. And there he was, this gorgeous man asking to sit with me.”

  She could still remember that day, looking up and seeing him for the first time. He had the most beautiful eyes, soft brown and able to render her speechless. She could only nod that it was all right for him to sit.