Little Black Dress with Bonus Material

by Susan McBride

  “So my aunt bailed on her wedding,” Toni remarked casually, despite the fact that she’d throttle one of her brides if she got cold feet after all the blood, sweat, and tears and months of micromanaging the Big Day and all that led up to it. “Everything turned out just fine, didn’t it? You wouldn’t have been born otherwise.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Hunter replied. “Which is why I don’t share my father’s negative view of the women in your family. It’s also why I’m here. I care about Miss Evie, and I wanted to see if I could do anything to help.”

  Toni sat up straighter. “Are you offering to pick up the newspaper and the mail, perhaps? Or would you like to shovel the drive?” she asked to provoke him, because she still wasn’t sure what to make of his presence.

  “Hmm”—he furrowed his brow—“I didn’t see a paper outside, and the drive looked shoveled to me, but if you need me to come back another time for either, you can holler.”

  Toni gave him a look. “I need to get to the hospital soon, so unless you’re going to level with me, maybe you should leave.”

  “All right, hang on,” he said, sitting up straighter, and he took a deep breath. “I’m guessing your mom hadn’t talked to you about our project?”

  “You and my mother had a project?” Toni would’ve laughed except she recalled Bridget saying something about Evie’s pact with the devil. “Did you plan to rob a bank together?”

  He lifted a hand. “It’s no joke. And it was Evie who got in touch with me. She read an interview I did with the local weekly about my crusade to get more of the vineyards involved in organic winemaking. She thought going green might be the solution to all the problems she’d been having at the Morgan winery.”

  “And you agreed to help her, just like that?” Toni didn’t hide her skepticism. Because her mother had never mentioned any such thing to her. Not that they talked often or about anything important when they did. But it galled her that Hunter Cummings would know more about what Evie wanted than she. “I hate sounding like a broken record, but considering how your father feels, why would you do something like that?”

  “Let’s backtrack a little, okay?” he said and settled into the sofa, slinging an arm along the back. “Last fall, Miss Evie lost her key winemaker, Louis. He’d been managing her staff and running the business since your father died. I’m sure you realize how hard your dad’s death hit her.”

  Oh, crap, he would have to go there, damn him.

  Toni’s chest tightened, and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes. “She was hit hard, yes. We both were. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for her more.”

  “She didn’t blame you,” he told her, very matter-of-factly. “She blamed herself for being neglectful, for not keeping an eye on the place.”

  Toni sat up straighter, remembering what Bridget had said. “So is the winery in bad shape?” She imagined the worst, as she was wont to do, and felt a sinking sensation like she had when Bridget had unveiled the cluttered study and nattered on about unpaid bills. “Should I bring in my accountant?” She meant Greg, of course, her non-fiancé, who quite probably loved numbers more than he loved her. “Do you think that Louis embezzled? Should we call the police?”

  “Antonia, slow down,” Hunter said and pushed his hands against the air until she settled back into her chair. “From what Miss Evie and I could tell, it was more a case of throwing good money after bad. Times have changed, and the Morgan winery wasn’t doing anything to keep up. Your mom figured that if she didn’t make a move now, somewhere down the road she’d have to close shop or sell out.” A boyish grin touched his lips. “So she and I put our heads together, and we cooked up a plan to take the vineyard into what we hope will be a profitable niche. But it’s not a quick fix, and, thankfully, Evie was willing to be patient.”

  Toni blinked, sorting out the rush of information. So the longtime manager had quit, leaving the business in a lurch, and Evie had hooked up with the youngest Cummings son to remedy things, just like that? She felt a pang in her chest at being so out of the loop. Did her mother not trust her at all?

  “So your family’s okay with it?” she asked, squinting at him, hating that she was jealous.

  “Ah, there’s the rub.” Hunter exhaled slowly. “I haven’t told them yet, and Miss Evie didn’t see a need to announce it prematurely.”

  “So why are you doing it?” Toni wondered aloud. “Can’t you play organic farmer on your own property?”

  “I get that you don’t trust me,” he said and shifted in his seat, rubbed his hands over his knees. “But Miss Evie seems much more receptive to innovation than my father. There’s an artistry to making wine without using synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, and growth stimulants. My brother Eldon manages our vineyard now, and he’s far less interested in change than the status quo. He blows me off when I mention getting certified organic. It’s not easy and it’s not inexpensive.”

  Toni had no clue about the requirements for going organic, but the “it’s not inexpensive” part she understood all too well.

  The hard line of Hunter’s jaw softened as he said, “Your mother’s ready to move forward. She’s as excited as I am about the prospect of going green, like we’re exploring another planet. ‘I need to get both feet out of the past,’ was how she put it.” He nodded. “I couldn’t agree with her more.”

  Toni’s pulse pounded as she listened, hearing every noble word, and it would have all sounded so lovely, so admirable. If only her mother wasn’t lying unconscious, unable to verify any of it.

  “I’m still trying to figure out what’s in it for you? What are you after?” she pressed, ignoring the sound of Evie’s voice in her head, chiding, Do you take me for a fool, Antonia? Don’t you trust your mother’s judgment? I’ve never done anything that wasn’t in your best interest.

  “I’m not after anything. I just thought you should know that your mother and I—” He cut himself off, shook his head. “Never mind. I’m sure Miss Evie will be back on her feet soon, and you’ll be off to St. Louis, and then it’s just me dealing with her, which was a whole lot simpler.” He stood and pulled his peppermint-striped cap over his wavy hair, tugging it low over his ears. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Give my best to your mother.”

  He didn’t even give her room to respond, merely started walking out. But at the threshold to the foyer, he stopped and turned around. “Don’t you ever just want to take a leap of faith?” he asked. “Believe in something just because you need to?”

  Hello? Wasn’t that why she’d left this small town in the first place, so she could bet on a dream she had of making something of herself apart from the family winery? And hadn’t she taken a huge leap of faith the previous night when she’d shown up at I Fratellini, all giddy and vulnerable and so certain her boyfriend would propose? And what had it gotten her? Bubkis, that’s what.

  “I may plan weddings for a living but it doesn’t mean I believe in fairy tales. I’m a realist,” she answered soberly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets, withdrawing his gloves and yanking them on. “Would you tell Miss Evie when you see her that I won’t quit on her, even if her daughter doesn’t like me much. Let her know I’ve got the crew ready for Sunday night. I know it’s late, but it’s the first real hard freeze so we can do the harvest we’d been waiting on.”

  Toni laughed. “You’re not serious?”

  He frowned, looking serious indeed.

  She got up from the chair and walked toward him, hugging her arms around her middle, so discombobulated at this point she wanted to march back upstairs and crawl beneath the covers. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, call it off.”

  “What?”

  “I said, whatever you’re planning, cancel it or at least postpone it until Evie’s better.” An ache tweaked Toni’s temples, and she winced, the pressure of everything weighing heavily upon her. “I can only take in so much at once, and I can’t worry about my mom and whatever you’re do
ing at the winery, too.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and her voice got all choked up in that awful weak-girl way. “Wait until Evie’s out of the hospital and I’m gone, then you can have your crazy ice harvest.”

  “I can’t do that,” he insisted, staring at her like she’d gone mad.

  “You have no choice,” she said and sniffed, wiping a sleeve beneath her runny nose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to dry my hair and get to the hospital.”

  “Wait!” Hunter reached for her, grabbing hold of her arm and as quickly letting go. “You can’t expect me to sit on my hands until your mom is well. It’ll be too late, everything will be ruined, and we’ll both be out a bunch of—”

  “Stop it.” Toni had heard enough. Her emotional seams felt near to bursting. “Please, stop. I can’t do this right now. I have to go sit with my mother. She’s lying flat on her back in the ICU with tubes sticking out of her and machines that help her breathe.” She gulped. “She needs me.”

  “All right, I get the picture.” He stood stock-still for a moment, clearly at a loss for what to say. “I didn’t come here to cause you more pain.”

  “Too late for that,” Toni said and tugged at her sweater as she brushed past him, heading toward the foyer. She waited with one hand on the brass door latch as he ambled up behind her. He took his time zipping up his coat and, when she opened the door to the cold, he touched her arm as he passed.

  “It really has nothing to do with us.”

  Toni squinted at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “The past,” he remarked. “I’m not my father, and you’re not Anna.”

  “Good to know.” She closed the door and bolted it, sniffing as she rubbed her sleeve beneath her runny nose. Where was the Kleenex when you needed it?

  “So how’d it go?” Bridget asked, appearing out of nowhere.

  Toni sighed and leaned her brow against the painted wood, wishing her pulse would settle down. She felt riled up, and she wasn’t sure if it had more to do with Hunter Cummings knowing more about the state of her mother’s business than she did, or the fact that Evie had trusted him more than she’d trusted her own daughter.

  “Did you tell him to take a hike?”

  Toni had a feeling Bridget knew exactly what she’d told Hunter, had likely overheard every word. But she nodded as she swiveled around, letting the door support her spine. “He knows where I stand.”

  “That’s my girl.” Bridget patted her arm, the strangest look on her face, like she knew something Toni didn’t; something that pleased her immensely.

  “I’m glad one of us is happy,” Toni said under her breath and put a hand on the railing as she climbed the steps, taking in a deep breath as she headed up to get ready for another trip to see her mom.

  Chapter 9

  Evie

  I had to do it, Evie. I wasn’t meant to marry Davis. The dress showed me everything so clearly. How could I ignore my destiny?

  So explained the note that Anna had written me, slipped beneath my door sometime before morning on the day that would have been her wedding. It was all I had left of her, and I couldn’t bear to think that a silly black dress bought on a whim in Ste. Gen had messed up her life—all of our lives—so completely. I wasn’t sure what the dress had done to Anna, or what she’d thought it had done; but as I read her note again and again, an overwhelming need seeped through my veins.

  What was it that the Gypsy had said?

  The dress will make happen what is meant to be. Once you see your fate, you can never go back.

  I had never been superstitious, but something about the dress unnerved me. I had to expel the Gypsy’s voodoo from our house so it wouldn’t touch anyone else. It had done enough damage already.

  Leaving my bed unmade, I went to my closet and grabbed at my clothes, my eyes so blurred by tears I couldn’t even tell the colors. I barely paused to draw a brush through my hair before I slipped out of the room.

  I found the black dress reverently draped over the bench at the foot of Anna’s bed. Snatching it up, I rolled it into a ball, certain only that I needed to do whatever it took to be rid of it.

  “You are cursed,” I whispered to it, and the silk crackled loudly in my hands, but I didn’t care. I was too furious to listen.

  Despite the cloudless blue sky, the morning air chilled my flesh to the bone, so I shrugged on my peacoat and took my car to Ste. Genevieve, driving back to the same street corner where we’d found the odd shop with the Gypsy. But when I parked and scrambled out, I noticed the storefront was empty. No purple curtains filled the windows. Instead, a FOR RENT sign leaned against the plate glass.

  That wasn’t possible.

  My heart fit to bursting, I rushed across the sidewalk and pressed my nose to the window. Despite the glint of morning sun that forced me to squint, I could tell the room was bare of furnishings, the wooden floor dusty and littered with trash. My gaze fell upon a single peacock feather—like the ones from the old fan I’d picked up and discarded—lying on the planks. It was enough to reassure me that I hadn’t made up the whole thing.

  “How can this be?” I said aloud, because it made no sense. I felt as though someone had played a terrible trick. I ran next door, pounding on the glass at the confectioner’s where I could see the matron behind the counter, even though the store was not yet open.

  “What is it?” she asked as she rushed me inside. “Are you hurt? Are you ill?”

  “Where is the Gypsy?” I got out, practically wheezing. “Did she move her goods to another place? I have something to return.”

  “What on earth are you rattling on about?” The woman stared at me and picked up a nearby broomstick, as if arming herself against attack. “What Gypsy is this?”

  “The one with the black hair woven through with ribbons,” I replied and swallowed hard. “She had the shop on the corner that sold hats and what-not from Paris.”

  Her eyes narrowed upon my face the same way Mother’s did when I couldn’t give her the answer she was seeking. “Is this some kind of game? A dare from your friends?”

  “No, I swear, it’s not,” I said and fought the urge to cry. Ostensibly, I was a grown woman, but I felt as vulnerable as a child. I had come on an errand to right a wrong. If I could return the dress, I believed that somehow it would bring Anna back. Only nothing was as it should have been. I had never felt so helpless in my life. “Please,” I begged, “you must know where she went. I have to find her.”

  If there was a way to undo the curse, I needed to hear it.

  “How could I know someone who doesn’t exist?” The woman scowled and waved the broom at me, chastising, “You young people have no respect! That space on the corner’s been vacant for a year, and I should know. I’m the landlord. So I’m not sure exactly what you’re trying to pull—”

  “I’m not lying,” I said without apology. I hadn’t made the Gypsy up. The woman was wrong—she had to be—and I had the dress in my hand to prove it!

  “Out,” she responded, sweeping me toward the door.

  I backed up until I bumped into the hard brass handle. Without hesitation, I spun about and pushed my way outside. My legs kept moving until I was a safe distance apart; only then did I pause on the sidewalk, clutching the dress against my chest and gulping in the raw air as I made up my mind what I should do next. If I couldn’t give the dress back to the Gypsy then I should destroy it. I couldn’t take the chance that another vulnerable girl might fall prey to it as Anna had. Luckily, I recalled the Gypsy’s story about how the previous owner had tried to burn it without avail. So if fire couldn’t do the deed, what else was there?

  As if in answer, a tugboat whistled from the Mississippi, and I said aloud, “Water.”

  I would drown it.

  Anxious to be rid of the thing, I hurried toward the river, cutting through knee-high weeds toward the rocky shore. The passing tug and barge awakened the Mississippi, and its muddy waters angrily slapped against the bank. I tried not to think of al
l the times that Anna and I had come to the river’s edge, sitting on the rocks and watching the barges and tugboats roll past. “Maybe I’ll leave on a steamboat,” my sister had once suggested, staring dreamily downstream. “Or I could make a raft and drift along the current like Huck and Jim.”

  She might as well have sailed off on a raft, I mused as hot tears ran down my cheeks. And it was all because of this wretched dress. Whether its magic was real or not didn’t matter, only that Anna had believed it.

  I reached my arm back, ready to fling the balled material into the murky water.

  I willed that the river would take it and carry it far from here, just as the dress had taken Anna away from me.

  “Hey!”

  A voice called out, and I hesitated.

  “You, there,” the husky baritone cried again. “Watch your step! Those rocks are slick!”

  I turned my head to see the fellow striding toward me, a fishing pole in hand. At precisely that moment, the dress sent a shock up my arm and into my head, and a brilliant flash filled my mind, revealing a vision as perfectly clear as a movie reel: of this young man who walked toward me holding me close, kissing me quite thoroughly, and neither of us wearing a stitch of clothing.

  I gasped loudly and lost my balance, the dress suddenly weighty as a bowling ball. The soles of my ballet flats skidded on the rocks, and I fell, my bottom hitting the stone with a jolt as I began sliding toward the brown water.

  “Help!” I got out before the chop hit my face like a slap, and the cold sucked me down. My sodden coat seemed a hundred pounds as it dragged me under faster than my legs could kick. Within seconds, water filled my nose and the blood froze in my veins. A single thought flashed through my mind at that instant, of what bad luck the dress was, making Anna run away and killing me in such an unfortunate manner.