The Wedding Dress

by Lucy Kevin

  And to wondering just how deep Gareth Cavendish’s passions ran.

  But as nice as it was to think about the handsome private investigator, she needed to focus on the Rose Chalet’s most important client to date. Especially given that Felicity was, in large part, responsible for helping Anne regain her usual happy equilibrium that morning. She’d confirmed that her magazine was going to do a special wedding issue, with Anne’s creations having a starring role. Even better, upon hearing that Anne still had her mother’s wedding dress, Felicity had suggested it would make the perfect centerpiece for the shoot.

  If only she could find the fabric to make Felicity’s dress. If Rose were here, Anne had no doubt her friend would have systematically inventoried each box and found the fabric within fifteen minutes. But every time Anne opened a box, she couldn’t help but think back to the moments the contents had come from. The tiny teddy bear her mother had given her as a baby. The costume jewelry she and her mother had collected at yard sales over the years and would wear when they pretended to have tea with the queen.

  Nothing, however, affected her quite as much as the collection of love poems her father had written for her mother.

  As Anne read the poems one by one, she imagined her father’s deep voice reading them to her mother as she sat beside him on the love seat. They’d been so perfect together. So happy.

  Inevitably, her thoughts returned to Gareth—to what he’d claimed was true about her father—and a brief flash of anger flowed through her before she pushed it away.

  The doorbell rang, and when she went to answer it and saw Gareth standing on the front porch, she felt as if she’d conjured him up out of thin air, simply by thinking of him again and again throughout the day.

  “We need to talk,” he said in that low voice that sent thrill bumps moving across the surface of her arms. “Can I come in?”

  A part of her had known he’d come back, hadn’t she? Especially when she’d slipped the envelope into his pocket as he was leaving. And while she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with a legal case, she couldn’t deny that, on a purely female level, it was very nice to see him again.

  She’d been attracted to him from the moment she saw him, but she still couldn’t quite work out why. Obviously, the “incredibly good-looking” part helped, but it was more than that. Gareth was nothing like the creative novelist her father had been. Instead, there was something stable about him. Dependable.

  He promised, “This won’t take too long,” as she stepped aside to let him in. As he headed through to the living room, he couldn’t miss the boxes strewn all over the floor. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

  “I’m looking for some fabric,” Anne said. “I’m sure it’s in one of these boxes.” She smiled up at him. “I imagine your office is perfectly neat?”

  “Mostly.” He gave her a small smile that made her feel tingly all over. “Thanks to Margaret.”

  “Margaret?” Anne felt a twinge of something other than tingles flicker through her. It took her a moment to identify it.

  She was jealous. Of Margaret…whoever Margaret was.

  “She’s my office manager,” he explained, “though there are days when she can feel like my boss if I’m not keeping up with my schedule.”

  Anne smiled. “It can be like that for me sometimes. So many dresses, so little time, and they have to be perfect, don’t they? I mean, I couldn’t let someone get married in a dress that wasn’t perfect.”

  Still, even as she spoke, she was reeling from the emotions another woman’s name out of Gareth’s mouth had brought up in her. Because she could only be jealous if…

  “This sewing machine must have quite a few years on it,” Gareth said as he put one strong hand on her Singer.

  Anne was struck by the contrast between his tanned, masculine fingers and the dainty, faded olive green machine. “My mother had it since I was a child. I can picture her sitting here every time I use it.”

  Gareth nodded, then said, “With all these boxes, I thought for a minute…”

  She couldn’t resist moving closer to him as she asked, “What did you think?”

  “That you were taking the case seriously enough to look for proof that your father didn’t—”

  “Why would I need to do that?” Yet again, she had to fight like crazy to push away the new rush of anger and frustration. She picked up the love poems. “Would my father have written these if he didn’t love my mother? So please, don’t start up again with how I have a secret half-sister.”

  “Believe it or not,” he said gently, “I really don’t want to do anything to hurt your memories of your parents.”

  “Then don’t. Would you like some tea?” Anne asked it automatically, but she was almost grateful when Gareth shook his head. “My friend Rose seems to think that I should take all this a lot more seriously.”

  Gareth looked at her, staring straight into her eyes. His gaze was so intense. “I met her earlier today. She seems like a good friend.”

  “She is. In fact, Rose is the closest thing to a sister I have,” she added pointedly. “Which is why I’d really appreciate it if you’d please tell this woman to withdraw her case.”

  But Gareth only shook his head. “If you really believe Jasmine Turner isn’t your sister, then you should prove it before this case gets out of hand.”

  “Gets out of hand how?” Anne asked. She had visions of bailiffs showing up at the front door to take everything away from her.

  They couldn’t do that. Could they? The world had to be fairer than that.

  Gareth reached out as if he would take her hand, but then, at the last second, he put his hand in his pocket instead. “Do you want all of this in the public eye? Because if you don’t come to the mediation, that’s what will happen.”

  Anne froze at that thought. The idea of someone dragging her parents’ names through the press like that was almost too much to bear.

  “Are you saying you’d tell reporters?” Anne asked incredulously. “You wouldn’t really do something like that, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that to you, but if this goes to trial, people will find out. Edward Farleigh wasn’t the biggest author in the world, but he was big enough that people will be interested, and we won’t be able to stop that.”

  As he spoke, Anne tried desperately to make sense of the way her life had turned upside down in the last twenty-four hours.

  “Even though you’re certain that your father couldn’t do this, you should still go to the mediation. I’ll be right outside, Anne, I promise. It will just be you, Jasmine, her lawyer, and a professional mediator. Go there and prove your case. Show Jasmine and the mediator that you’re right. Please at least talk to them. It’s the best thing to do.”

  Part of her knew that Gareth was right. Going to this meeting would be the only way to deal with the situation before it ruined her father’s reputation. Yet it seemed so unfair that someone could just show up and start questioning his marriage and behavior.

  Just as unfair as her parents’ sudden deaths. They shouldn’t have been snatched away like that. And now, she thought as her eyes filled up with tears, someone was trying to take away her memories of them, too.

  Chapter Seven

  Gareth’s gut clenched tight as Anne started crying. Even if another investigator might have tried to ignore the pain of this sweet, funny, beautiful woman, he couldn’t do it. Instead, he had to reach out to try to soothe her by putting a comforting arm around her.

  He honestly expected her to flinch at his touch. He was the enemy, after all. So when she surprised him, yet again, by putting her head on his shoulder and sinking down onto the couch with him while she cried, he couldn’t stop himself thinking about how perfect it felt to hold her like this.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he promised.

  She turned her face to his so that he was looking into the depths of those perfectly blue eyes…close enough that their lips were just a few
inches apart.

  “Gareth,” she said, his name barely more than a whisper.

  He had dated plenty of beautiful, intelligent, talented women. Yet not one of them had made him feel the way Anne was making him feel right now. What was more, not one of them had made him want to open up to them; to let them into the parts of himself that he kept hidden.

  Maybe it was because, even after having known her only a day, he sensed that Anne would never take advantage of him in any way.

  So when she started to close the rest of the distance between them, her lips moving closer slowly, almost imperceptibly, Gareth wanted to pretend that he couldn’t see it coming, so that he could stay there and let this wonderful woman kiss him.

  But he couldn’t.

  Not when she was on the other side of a case from him.

  The rules for a situation like this were clear. And he’d always lived his life strictly by the rules.

  Pulling back, taking his arms from around her, and standing up was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. But he did it anyway.

  “I need to give you these again.” He took the envelope of legal papers out of his pocket and handed them to her.

  Gareth’s gut twisted yet again at the clear disappointment—and hurt—on Anne’s face as she stood. He wished he could confess that he’d been drawn to her from the moment he first saw her. And that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman.

  Only, actually saying either one of those things would be completely unprofessional.

  And totally against the rules.

  Helping her navigate the legal case as cleanly as possible was all he could do.

  “Gareth, did I do something wrong?”

  “No, of course you didn’t,” he said softly. “Please promise me that I’ll see you at the mediation tomorrow.”

  Anne stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. “All right. Are you sure you won’t stay, though? For tea, or…?”

  It would have been so easy to say yes. So easy, and, with Anne, so perfect. But he couldn’t break the rules like that.

  Not even for her.

  “I have to get back to the office.”

  It was hard, keeping things flat and professional, heading for her front door like nothing was wrong. He managed to walk all the way out to his car without looking back, but he risked a glance in the rearview mirror, and saw Anne wave good-bye. Like it had been a friendly visit from some old acquaintance.

  Of course, they’d almost become a lot more than that.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of what it might have been like to close that distance between them and taste the sweet softness of her lips rather than pulling away.

  “Stop it,” he told himself aloud. “It’s not going to happen. It can’t happen.”

  Gareth put his Jaguar in gear and got out of there, because every moment he spent looking at her was another one he had to fight not to go back into the house and finish what they’d nearly started on the sofa.

  * * *

  “Did you do it?” Margaret asked when he walked back into his office.

  Gareth nodded, even as his gut twisted at the memory of Anne’s tears.

  “I’m proud of you,” she said, and then, “There’s a visitor waiting in your office, but I need to talk to you about that first, because—”

  Gareth wasn’t in the mood to wait. Dealing with a new client was exactly what he needed, the only way he’d manage to get thoughts of Anne out of his head.

  He pushed his office door open and stepped inside. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Ms.…Kyra, what are you doing here?”

  Brian’s girlfriend stood up and smiled at him. “Gareth, it’s good to see you again.” Her voice was soft and warm, despite all that had happened six months ago. “Brian said you wouldn’t want to see me, and that you would be angry with me.”

  “It’s not you I’m angry with.”

  “Your secretary was very protective. She didn’t want to let me wait for you.” Kyra shook her head. “All this anger. Can’t we get past it? You and Brian used to be inseparable.”

  “That was before he broke the rules,” Gareth said.

  “Yes,” she admitted, “he broke a few rules. But he loves me and my son, and he only wants what’s best for us. In my experience, as long as no one gets hurt, doesn’t love matter the most?”

  “Rules matter,” Gareth insisted. “If they don’t, there’s chaos, and everything breaks down.”

  Brian’s girlfriend stepped back from him. “I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to give you an invitation.”

  Gareth was instantly wary. “What kind of invitation?”

  “Brian and I are getting married. We’re having an engagement party later this week, and we want you to be there. Brian hasn’t said it, but I know it’s what he wants. And that he’s hoping the two of you will be able to put the past behind you. Please say you’ll at least think about it.”

  She put the invitation on his desk and walked out of his office. Gareth stared at the thick cream paper, wondering how Kyra could possibly think that he’d want to go to their engagement party or that he’d be okay with spending time with Brian again when his friend couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth anymore?

  And did he and his girlfriend really think that Gareth could put aside everything he stood for, all of his convictions, just like that for love?

  Chapter Eight

  As Anne picked out her outfit for work the next day, she caught herself sighing for what had to be the dozenth time.

  What was wrong with her?

  Moping around was so negative, and that wasn’t the person she wanted to be. Yet there was something about the thought of what had happened with Gareth yesterday—the almost-kiss that had kept her up half the night replaying it over and over—that was profoundly frustrating. So much so that yet another sigh slipped by her normally optimistic defenses.

  In the past few months, she’d seen her friend Phoebe becoming far less cynical about the world thanks to her relationship with Patrick Knight. Anne really hoped that kind of thing didn’t work in reverse too.

  It was just, that moment yesterday, when Gareth’s mouth had been just inches from hers and his arms had been around her, had been so good. More than that, it had felt right.

  She’d spent so many years looking around for Mr. Right, even letting Phoebe and Tyce talk her into occasionally dating one of their friends. Only, with everything Anne had seen of her parents’ marriage, it had just seemed so obvious that she would know when the right person came along. Unfortunately, none of the men she’d dated had ever come close.

  Heading downstairs to get breakfast, she put a pot on for tea. While the water boiled, she got a box of cereal out of the pantry and reflected that when she’d been in Gareth’s arms on her couch, she could have sworn there was something special between them: an impossible, perfect connection that she’d felt like nothing could break.

  Until he had broken it by pulling back from her.

  If they had that kind of connection, then surely he should have felt it too? Surely the thing about perfect love was that it should be perfect, not something that people got confused over, or pulled back from, or…

  She looked down and saw that she was pouring tea into her cereal bowl.

  “Damn it!”

  Anne paused, more than a little horrified with herself for the way she was behaving this morning.

  Which brought her to something else she couldn’t make sense of. Her parents had been such perfect, happy, loving counterparts to each other. Whereas Gareth was at the heart of a legal process that was slowly tearing Anne apart inside.

  Didn’t that mean he couldn’t possibly be right for her?

  And yet, Anne still wished he had closed that gap between them and kissed her yesterday.

  Abandoning her breakfast, she walked back over to the pile of boxes all over her floor. On top of one of the boxes was a picture of her mother and father on their wed
ding day.

  Her mother looked radiant in her wedding dress, like a princess. Her father was incredibly handsome in his suit.

  Felicity Andrews and San Francisco magazine were expecting to use her mother’s wedding dress for the photo shoot. Fortunately, it didn’t take Anne long to find the dress. She’d gotten it out of its box many times over the years to stare at while she waited for inspiration to hit. Just the thought of the love her parents had was always enough to fuel her creative juices.

  Now, Anne held the gown up to the light with a critical eye, looking at it the way she would a dress ready to be fitted to a bride. It was beautiful, but there was still a lot of work to do. The beading around the edges had faded over time, and some of the stitching had come loose. It would all need to be redone by hand. She ran the silk of the dress through her fingers, feeling the beading as she went.

  Remembering her mother saying the beads had been a special gift from her father for the dress, she wondered if they had picked out the beads together? Or had her father brought them home from one of his book tours? Because he had gone on a lot of trips without her and her mother, hadn’t he…

  On impulse, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Rose.

  “Hi, Anne,” Rose said, picking up the phone after the first ring. “How are you today?”

  “Wonderful,” Anne said automatically, because…well, why wouldn’t she say it? “I’m just starting to work on my mother’s dress for the photo shoot.”

  “The magazine feature is going to be a big deal,” Rose said. “It should attract a lot of attention, to you especially.”

  “That would be nice,” Anne said. “Plus, it means I get a chance to go through all of my parents’ old things.”

  “Ah,” Rose said, “the boxes.”

  “The boxes,” Anne agreed, because Rose liked to tease her about the number of them taking up odd corners and closets. Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, she got out the sewing box Rose had given her one year as a birthday present, and started carefully using a needle to unpick the thread of the beading where it was worn. “My mother was always sewing, wasn’t she?”