“I’ll recommend you to all my friends,” the bride-to-be gushed.
Chloe thanked her, and as she walked to her van, muttered under her breath that she hoped the woman felt the same after she discovered Chloe had been dumped by Ted. And everyone would know soon because she intended to start making those dreaded phone calls when she got back to her place.
“Hello, Chloe.”
She looked up and almost stumbled to see Ted leaning against her van, his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her pulse thumping.
“I came to see you,” he said simply. “I remembered you were coordinating Mindy’s shower, and when Jenna mentioned she was attending... Well, I thought this would be a neutral place to talk.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “To talk about what?”
He looked sheepish. “To talk about what an idiot I am.”
Hope fluttered in her chest, but the anger still lingered. “I’m listening.”
He pushed himself from the van and lifted his hands in the air. “When I saw you wearing the wedding dress, I just panicked. I guess I got cold feet, and I didn’t handle it well. I want to marry you, Chloe.”
She wavered, near tears and exhausted from a sleepless night. A tiny part of her asked how, if he loved her, he could put her through something so ghastly. But another part of her whispered that it was her fault for springing the wedding dress on him unexpectedly when he was already in a bad mood. It had blindsided him, spooked him.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
They’d lost less than twenty-four hours—a minuscule lapse compared to the rest of their life together. Chloe smiled. “Yes.” Then she went into his arms for a makeup kiss. She closed her eyes and squeezed him, telling herself that eventually the hurt would subside and everything would feel perfect again.
He clasped her hand. “Where’s your ring?”
“At my apartment,” she said, reluctant to tell him that she’d bounced it off her bedroom wall. “I’ll put it on as soon as I get home.”
“Good. Did you tell anyone about my stupidity?”
She shook her head. “I guess I was hoping you’d change your mind.”
Ted smiled. “I’m just glad I came to my senses before you pulled the plug on the entire wedding.”
The dress. Chloe winced, wishing she hadn’t acted so impulsively in returning it. The bridal shop was closed Sundays, but no matter, she thought happily—she’d get it first thing tomorrow morning. Melinda would be relieved.
* * *
“THE DRESS ISN’T HERE, CHLOE.”
Chloe leaned forward on the counter. “Melinda, how can the dress not be here? I brought it back Saturday as you were closing, and now you’re just reopening.”
Melinda turned pale and wrung her hands. “You told me to get rid of it.”
A finger of alarm tickled Chloe’s spine. “Melinda, where is my wedding dress?”
“I gave it to a charity, along with a truckload of other gowns.”
Chloe’s throat convulsed. “You gave away my wedding gown?” She grabbed the lapels on the woman’s jacket. “I’m getting married in less than three weeks—I have to have that dress!”
Melinda cringed. “I’m sorry, Chloe. A couple of times a year I give leftover stock to an organization that distributes clothing to the needy.” She rummaged behind the counter and came up with a brochure, which she extended to Chloe with a shaking hand.
Shell-shocked, Chloe took the brochure and read the name of the organization, Windfall Clothing Service. The words strummed a memory chord and she had to think for a few seconds before she recalled the delivery truck with the flat tire. And the handsome driver. What a strange coincidence.
“When was the dress picked up?” Chloe asked.
“Saturday evening after I closed.”
So chances were good that it was still sitting in a truck somewhere, perhaps at the organization’s office, or in a warehouse. She glanced at the address on the brochure and headed toward the door.
“Chloe, where are you going?” Melinda called.
“To find my wedding dress!” she shouted.
CHAPTER
THREE
CHLOE LIFTED HER GAZE from the brochure and stared at the entrance to the Windfall Clothing Service office. The organization had been founded by two women who recognized the opportunity to redirect clothes and other basic-need items that manufacturers and retailers wanted to clear out. Agencies would then distribute them to the homeless, those displaced by natural disasters, and refugees from other countries, among others.
Guilt plucked at her heartstrings. This organization was doing wonderful things for many people, marrying resources to need. She felt embarrassed to go in and admit she was there to take back an expensive wedding dress that had been inadvertently donated after her fiancé had called off the wedding, which was now back on. Her problem seemed petty in light of the work that Windfall was doing.
Although...perhaps she could make a donation to offset the time and trouble it would take to locate her dress. Feeling better, Chloe climbed out of her van and entered the office.
An attractive brunette standing next to a file cabinet smiled at her. “Welcome to Windfall. I’m Terri. How can I help you?”
Through a large window behind the desk Chloe caught a glimpse of a vast warehouse bustling with workers and filled with pallet after pallet of clothing and other items. The sheer magnitude of merchandise that the organization dealt with began to dawn on Chloe, making her dilemma seem even smaller in comparison.
She manufactured a smile. “My name is Chloe Parker. I heard about your organization through a retail store owner who donates clothing.”
The woman nodded. “We have so many wonderful retail contributors. Which one?”
“Melinda’s Bridal Shop on Queen Street?”
“Oh, yes, of course. It sounds strange, I know, donating gowns and formal wear to the needy, but there are people out there who are grateful for the chance to celebrate happy events with a special dress they couldn’t otherwise afford.”
Chloe swallowed miserably. “How nice.”
“What can I do for you?” Terri asked cheerfully.
“I...” Feeling trapped by her own selfishness and looking for a way out, Chloe glanced around the office, her gaze landing on a sign that read, We Always Need Volunteers. Her mind raced furiously. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to satisfy a client, and right now, she was her own client. If she volunteered to work for the organization, maybe she could secretly look for her gown. It was probably somewhere in that warehouse, waiting to be sorted and distributed locally.
She just needed to buy a little time until she could find it. And if she volunteered, she wouldn’t feel so bad about what she was doing. Everybody won.
“I’d like to volunteer my time to Windfall,” Chloe said impulsively.
“Oh, wonderful! We can’t have enough volunteers.” Terri gestured for her to sit, and pulled out a form. Dropping into the chair behind the desk, she began filling in Chloe’s background, references and contact information. “Do you have any special skills you’d like to share?”
“I run an events-planning company, so I’m very organized.” She withdrew a business card and extended it across the desk.
Terri took it, nodding. “Great. We can always use help here in the office and in the warehouse. Routing the clothes to the proper outlets takes a lot of coordination, especially in peak times, such as emergencies.”
“Sounds perfect for me,” Chloe said, nodding in turn.
“How many hours a week would you like to volunteer?”
“I was thinking a couple of hours a day for now.”
“Would it be possible to work mornings?”
“Actually, early mornings are best for me,” Chloe said, relieved that she wouldn’t have to juggle her regular work schedule. “From seven to nine?”
“Great. The office will already be unlocked, although there might no
t be very many people here at that time.”
All the better, Chloe thought.
“I see you have our brochure.” Terri nodded to the paper sticking out of Chloe’s purse. “There’s more information on our website, too, if you’d like to know the full spectrum of what we do here at Windfall.”
“I’ll check it out,” she promised.
“Good. Then I just have one more question,” the woman said with a grin. “When can you start?”
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“Perfect. Would you like a tour?”
“Sure.” The sooner she learned the logistics of the business, the better.
When the door to the warehouse opened, Chloe looked up and blinked in surprise to see the blond man who’d been driving the truck with the flat. He walked in studying a piece of paper, which he laid on the corner of Terri’s desk, some sort of list. When he looked up, he glanced over at her and tilted his head, as if trying to place her.
Chloe squirmed, hoping he didn’t remember she’d been the driver blasting her horn.
“Hi, Andy,” Terri said. “Meet Chloe Parker—she’s a new volunteer.”
“Hello,” he said, giving her a friendly smile. “I’m Andy Shearer.”
She smiled back, a little dismayed at the way her pulse accelerated. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders and an earthy appearance that made her think of hiking and camping, things she hadn’t done since she was a child. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured.
The phone rang and Terri excused herself. After a few seconds, she covered the mouthpiece. “Sorry, I need to take this. Andy, I was about to give Chloe a tour. Would you mind showing her around?”
“Not at all,” he said smoothly, opening the door and sweeping his arm in front of him. “After you, Chloe.”
She walked past him and a shiver of awareness traveled over her shoulders. He had deep blue eyes, pale lashes and freckles on his tanned cheeks. His dark blond hair was short and thick, glinting with golden highlights from the sun. His shirtsleeves were rolled up past brown, muscular forearms. His faded jeans were low slung and molded powerful thighs. His work boots were scuffed and worn. He was...what was the word?
Hot.
“Are you okay?” he asked, flashing white teeth.
“I’m fine,” she said, picking up the pace and chiding herself for observing the man’s physical assets. Considerable as they were, it wasn’t like her to notice other men. She was engaged, after all, mere weeks away from tying the knot. And she was here on a mission—to find her wedding gown. Not to ogle the help.
He was squinting at her. “Have we met before?”
Chloe’s stomach did a little flip. “I don’t think so.”
“You seem familiar to me for some reason.”
“I m-must have one of those faces,” she stammered.
“One of those nice ones,” he said, nodding.
Her cheeks warmed with a blush. “Thank you.” She averted her gaze, trying to focus on the matter at hand rather than the disconcerting man next to her.
“This, as you can tell,” he said, gesturing to the noisy scene in front of them, “is the warehouse. Donors either deliver items to us or we pick them up. Everything comes here to be sorted and bundled for distribution to agencies and shelters all over Toronto.”
The warehouse was as big as a football field, and every section of it bustled with activity. Chloe looked at the mountains of clothing and boxes that workers were picking through and her stomach sank. Her dress could be anywhere. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Granted, a white, sparkly needle, but still....
“It’s a little overwhelming,” she said, surveying the goings-on.
“So is the need,” Andy remarked. “This organization has grown from a small operation to a vital source of aid in our community.”
“I had no idea,” Chloe murmured, feeling humbled.
“So what brings you to Windfall?”
She pulled a half-truth from thin air. “I...heard about the organization...and wanted to...help.” Maybe she should just come clean and admit why she was there and ask for their help in finding the dress.
“I’m sure Terri is thrilled to have an extra body.”
His gaze traveled down her legs, and the chilly warehouse suddenly seemed overheated. It occurred to Chloe that he was flirting with her...and she was enjoying it. She looked everywhere but at him.
Andy cleared his throat. “And what do you do when you aren’t volunteering, Chloe?”
“I own an events-coordinating business.”
His eyebrows went up. “You plan parties?”
Chloe bristled. Why did it sound frivolous when he said it? “Yes. And other...events.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said, his eyes dancing. “And a nice way to spend your days—making people happy.”
She smiled. “That’s the general idea.”
“You have a nice smile. You should use it more often.”
She held his gaze for a few seconds until an alarm sounded in her head. This man is dangerous to your peace of mind. Instead of responding, she glanced away and resumed walking. But she was ultra-aware of him walking beside her.
They toured all around the warehouse, with Andy pointing out steps of the operation along the way. Chloe scanned every pile of clothing for a flash of white, sparkly fabric, not sure what she would do if she spotted something. But as it turned out, she didn’t see anything resembling her dress. The air was full of dust and lint. Part of their job, he pointed out, was opening packages and removing labels from the clothing before it went out to various agencies.
“Cutting out the labels protects the donors,” he said, “so no one can return the items to a store for a refund.”
“How long does it take for the items to be processed, from pickup to delivery?”
He shrugged. “Depending on the demand, as little as a few hours to maybe a week or two.”
“Depending on the demand?”
“Coats in winter, kids’ clothes and backpacks when school starts, that kind of thing. We try to be as responsive as possible, given our constraints.”
Chloe nodded. Andy had a pleasing, natural way of speaking and carrying himself. He was, she decided, a good ambassador for the organization. But he unnerved her with the way he looked at her—as if he was trying to figure her out. And she felt as if her ulterior motive for being here was written all over her face. To her relief, they were soon back where they’d started.
“Thank you for the tour,” she said, edging toward the office door, eager to put distance between her and his perceptive blue eyes.
Andy nodded, then put his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m not one for beating around the bush. Are you single, Chloe Parker?”
She was so taken aback by his forthrightness that for a few seconds she lost her voice...and her memory. Then she recalled the reason she was here. “Actually, I’m engaged to be married,” she said finally.
He looked at her left hand. “Sorry, I didn’t see a ring.”
“It’s at home,” she said, slightly irritated. She hadn’t been able to find her engagement ring, and she needed to before she saw Ted again. “I always wear it...usually.”
He looked amused. “And have you set a date for your walk down the aisle?”
“Three weeks from this past Saturday,” Chloe said, feeling defensive.
Andy winked at her. “Too bad. Nice meeting you.” Then he gave her a little salute and walked away.
Chloe frowned at the man’s broad back. Too bad? Whatever happened to “good luck”?
* * *
ANDY SHEARER WALKED AWAY, fighting the urge to look back for another glimpse of Chloe Parker. When he’d walked into the office and seen her, he’d felt as if he’d been sucker punched. The woman was beautiful, with her big brown eyes, full pink lips and masses of dark wavy hair pulled back with a prim yellow ribbon. And there was something about her....
He shook his head, wond
ering why someone like her was volunteering for Windfall. He liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, but his gut told him that something wasn’t on the up-and-up here.
Then he sighed. No matter the motivation, a volunteer was a volunteer, so it would be nice to have Chloe around. But he planned to keep an eye on her...a task he was looking forward to, despite the fact that she’d been quick to tell him she was to be married soon.
Because there was something fishy going on with this woman, and he intended to find out what.
CHAPTER
FOUR
CHLOE HID A YAWN behind her hand, a result of her early morning wake-up, and flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, looking for any mention of a delivery pickup from Melinda’s Bridal Shop. “These receipts are from two weeks ago,” she announced.
“We’re running a little behind,” Terri said, “but working at a good pace. See these account numbers listed at the bottom of the receipts? Each one represents an agency that received a parcel of the clothes or items on that receipt. In other words, all of the things listed on this receipt have already been distributed. We just have to make sure the paperwork accurately reflects what was taken and what was sent out or retained.”
“Retained?”
“That means it couldn’t be shipped out for some reason—maybe it was out of season or in disrepair, a pair of shoes was mismatched, or something like that.”
“Wow, you keep a close eye on what comes in and what goes out,” Chloe remarked, thinking that even if she found her wedding dress, she’d still have to figure out a way to get it out of there. According to Andy’s information, unless the agencies experienced a sudden demand for wedding gowns, she had less than two weeks to find the dress.
But if they were two weeks behind processing paperwork in the office, the dress would be gone by the time the receipt from Melinda’s Bridal Shop crossed her desk.
“Our funding depends on good record keeping,” Terri said, breaking into Chloe’s thoughts. “We’d rather be slow and accurate.”
More Than Words: Acts of Kindness: Whispers of the HeartIt's Not About the DressThe Princess Shoes Page 9