She made a frustrated sound. “Why are you being so unreasonable about this? I’ve got something he wants, so he’s going to have to give me what I want.”
“Okay, Jo. Do it your way. I’d just rather have him out of your life once and for all.”
“And so would I,” Jo said, coming around to his chair, straddling him. “But I have to do this my way. Don’t be mad?”
When her fingers threaded through his hair, he lost focus entirely. Ring or not, he had Jo. As far as Hud was concerned, that was the real prize. And if Chuck ever wanted Jo back, he’d have a hell of a fight on his hands.
Hud guaranteed it.
“I can never stay mad at you, babe.” When she buried her face in his neck and kissed, then licked, he forgot how hungry he was, too. He stood with her still straddling his hips. “Let’s go.”
She giggled. “What about dinner?”
“Later.”
Chapter Eleven
Three days later, Joanne waited at the boutique for a scheduled appointment with a prospective bride when the phone rang.
“Joanne’s, how can I help you?”
“It’s Patricia Taylor.”
Finally, they’d decided to return her calls. “We never settled on a dress from the designs you paid for and I’d hoped to get started on the dress soon.”
“That’s the thing. Would you please go ahead and send the designs over to Trudy’s Boutique in San Francisco? We’ve decided to have them make the dress.”
Trudy’s was by far Joanne’s biggest competition, an exclusive boutique only the most privileged of brides could afford.
She forced her voice into professional mode and out of the whine she heard in her head. “Did we do anything wrong? I thought you had agreed to keep your business in Fortune.”
The Taylors were from Fortune, originally from real estate entrepreneurs who were very public about supporting small businesses in Fortune. The deal had started out with such promise a few months ago, their enthusiasm for working with a local bridal boutique and an exclusively designed dress palpable.
Now everything was falling apart.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve decided to go with Trudy’s. Your designs were by far the best ones and we’ll go with one of those. You’ll get credit for the design, of course.”
But she wouldn’t be making the dress, and Joanne knew how it would go. Her name might appear in the fine print, but it would essentially be buried. Trudy’s would get all the publicity. Trudy’s would be there on the day of the wedding for any last-minute alterations.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened recently? Because I can assure you, it’s the best thing to have ever happened to me. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“I was so sorry to hear about that. Did the groom leave you hanging with all the expenses?”
“Well, yes. I’m handling it.” Best not to go into the gory details with a client. “But the shop is in good standing and I wouldn’t have any problems delivering the dress.”
She cleared her throat. “I know you wouldn’t. But the decision has been made. And Joanne, I would so appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread the word that we’re going to San Francisco for the dress. You know that our image is so closely tied with supporting local business. And we try to, in every instance possible.”
Except this one.
“I’m a professional and not a gossip, but don’t expect me to lie for you. We had an agreement and I’m willing and able to hold up my end.”
“I just...you have to understand.”
“Maybe if you explained.” Joanne kept her words measured and even, leaving the emotion out of it.
“It might not be fair, but everything has to go perfect for my daughter’s wedding. My husband expects it. He’s not footing a six-figure wedding for something to go wrong with the dress.”
“Is there some reason you believe I can’t do the work?”
“Dear, you were just jilted!”
“It’s not contagious, Patricia.” Quoting Hud to a prospective client. New territory.
“That’s not what I mean. You’re normally so detailed oriented. But with everything you’ve been through, which was so unfair by the way, I don’t have the same confidence in you.” She took a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll put those designs in the mail for you. And best of luck.” Joanne spoke sharply and hung up, her stomach churning.
She didn’t think she’d ever sold a design without sewing the dress. Nothing like the feeling that a client didn’t want Joanne to touch her dress to make her feel toxic. Her designs were good enough, apparently her hands were not. More than likely, her shop didn’t have the sophisticated cachet of a big city boutique. Plus, there was the whole jilted bride bad luck boutique thing. The feeling of being passed over sank her spirits. Great that they were using her designs, but terrible that they didn’t trust her enough to create them.
She wondered if that’s how Hud felt about the ring. If he thought that she was keeping it because she didn’t trust they would work out, so she had to hang on to some part of Chuck. To keep contact. But nothing could be further from the truth. She wanted Chuck out of her life. Maybe it was time to think about giving him the ring back like Hud wanted her to do. She didn’t like the idea of giving Hud any doubts.
She gathered the designs from the back and slipped them into a manila envelope, addressing them to the Taylors of Fortune. They would be taking their business to San Francisco.
The doorbell jingled and a soft voice called out, “Am I too early?”
Joanne dashed to the front to meet her appointment, Leah Jones. “I’m sorry. I was in the back. My colleague has the day off.”
Joanne led Leah to the couch and smiled. “Is there anyone else coming?”
Normally a bride brought in a mother or mother-in-law, best friend, or someone with her. Joanne or Nora would serve champagne as they looked at possible designs and talked wedding details, but this girl didn’t look old enough to drink.
“No, it’s just me. I’m not from the area.”
Leah had long dark hair and wore little makeup. She wore faded jeans and a blue sweatshirt and definitely didn’t look like Joanne’s typical clients. She was slender. Young. Joanne decided against offering the champagne. Still, this was her favorite part of her work. Finding the love story that lived in each bride. Encouraging them to share the romance with her so that she could better come up with ideas for the perfect dress. Each bride then had a uniquely designed dress coming out of their own love story.
“Please, let’s have a seat and discuss some ideas.” Joanne waved her hand toward the couch and sat.
“Right off, I have to tell you that I don’t have much money.” Leah clutched her purse.
“Okay. I have several wedding budgets I can work with.”
“I’ve saved up for this. It’s going to be the most important part of my wedding day. I want a special dress that no one else has.”
“Right. Well, that’s what we do here.” Joanne took out her sketch pad. “How old are you, Leah?”
“I look younger than I am,” she said. “I’m twenty-one.”
Old enough to drink alcohol. Joanne still wasn’t going to break out the champagne. Leah was alone which meant she’d probably driven herself here. “How long have you known your groom?”
“I’ve known Jake since we were kids.”
“And is he around? Will I get to meet him?”
“He’ll be here for the wedding. His family is from Fortune. He already has approval for leave.”
Another military man. “What branch?”
“Navy.” She sat up straighter when she said so.
“Let me explain my process. What I do, initially, is listen to your love story. Then I come up with ideas once I get to know you. Tell me about you and Jake.”
<
br /> Leah relaxed, and her gaze took on that dreamy quality that Joanne loved so much. Too bad she hadn’t noticed it had been missing in her. If she had, that might have been a clue that Chuck was all wrong for her. There was no love story there.
“We met when he was visiting his grandparents in Oregon, where I’m from. When he told me he was joining the Navy, I said I’d never speak to him again if he did.”
Joanne gaped. “I’m s-sorry?”
“I know that sounds crazy.” She giggled.
Joanne shook her head. No, it didn’t sound crazy at all. It was almost exactly what she’d said to Hud when he signed up for the Army. He was eighteen, straight out of high school. After his car accident, he’d developed a kinship with first responders and knew it was what he wanted to do. Joanne was also eighteen, raising a one-year-old, still living at home and enrolled at junior college. The war was raging in the Middle East, and though Joanne was as patriotic as the next person, when someone she loved was shipping off it was a different story.
She hadn’t wanted to lose him, even then. And she’d given him an ultimatum, as a best friend. If he went, he’d lose her friendship forever. He’d just smiled and said he was going anyway, hoped she’d change her mind, and he’d look her up when he got back.
If he got back.
For the second time in her life, Joanne had determined that loving Hud was too risky. But when he’d returned, they’d taken up as friends again just as if nothing had happened. Friendship had been safer when it came to him.
“Tell me more,” Joanne said, ideas already coming.
“Well, of course, I was lying about the never talking to him again thing. I did talk to him again because thank God he came back. And after that we had this long-distance kind of thing. When I came out to visit him where he was stationed in Virginia, we got married.”
“Oh, so you’re already married?” It happened. Sometimes a bride wanted a second chance at the day of their dreams.
She held up her finger to indicate her story wasn’t complete. “Then we got divorced, because living apart when you’re married can be a real strain on a relationship.”
“No kidding. This is a second wedding kind of thing?” And they were only twenty-one!
“Yes. This is the one where the entire family, both sides, are on board and they realize no one can talk us out of it.” She smiled shyly. “He’s my person.”
“Your love story is very romantic. How do you feel about tulle?” Joanne went on, trying to capture a sense of what would appeal to Leah and would flatter her slender frame, dark hair and eyes.
“I want my dress to be blue,” Leah blurted out. “Can you do that?”
“I can do anything you’d like,” Joanne said. “Sure, blue isn’t traditional but that’s why you’re here, right? You want something unique.”
“Blue is my favorite color and he’ll be dressed in his Navy dress blues. I want us to match.”
To date, Joanne had only worked with one unconventional bride, Jill Davis. The first designs had involved something much like a swimsuit because Jill thought she and Sam would get married while wakeboarding. But when the mother of the bride had torpedoed that idea, Jill surprisingly went fairly conventional.
“Sweetheart neckline? Plunging back?” Joanne continued to ask questions to get a feel from Leah. “Pearl sequins?”
They continued to chat about possibilities, and Leah’s eyes lit up with excitement.
A lot of people had asked Joanne why she hadn’t designed her own wedding dress. She hadn’t had the answer to that question, as it had once been her dream to design her wedding dress and sew it. She’d had in mind exactly what it would be. A sweetheart collar with a shorter train and a tiara. Individual pearls sewn on the bodice. A mix of traditional with a little whimsy. The short story? She’d settled. Time got away from her between work, readjusting to Matt being back in Hunter’s life and Hunter’s general “teenage” passage. And the Valentino dress had been such a steal with her discount. She’d chosen it even though Nora had said the long, Princess Diana-like train didn’t say “Joanne.” And she’d been right, of course.
Instead the dress said, “I’m thirty-two and I need to get on with it.” Now the Valentino dress would probably be sold because Joanne would never jinx herself with it again. Or any other bride, for that matter. Maybe Tilly was right, and Joanne should burn it.
Joanne accepted half of the deposit that she normally asked for a design for the bride because Leah didn’t have enough. Joanne would make it work. She had to, for a bride that had renewed Joanne’s own hopes in love and romance, even at her age.
After her appointment, Joanne closed up the boutique and drove to her mother’s home on the outskirts of Fortune. Mom had been bugging her to come by for days and Joanne had a feeling that it was due to the way rumors spread in their little town. By now Mom would have heard about Hud. And who knew what people were saying?
Looks like Hunky Hud is now having a fling with his best friend. In-te-res-ting.
Did you hear? Joanne’s on the rebound with the hottest LT in town.
Sorry. Chuck who?
Her mother greeted Joanne at the door. “Sweetheart! Finally. I’ve been so worried.”
“Sorry. I’ve just been so busy with the shop...and...” Hud. Busy getting busy with Hud. “Everything. You know how it is.”
Mom led her into the cozy living room filled with photos and mementos of Joanne’s childhood. Ramona Brandt did not believe in redecorating but instead kept a virtual museum of Joanne’s past. There were photos of her and Dad everywhere, the man who, for most of her life, had been Joanne’s hero. Tall, handsome and larger than life, he’d worked out regularly but still died of a massive stroke at his engineer’s desk in Silicon Valley. High blood pressure, undiagnosed. He’d been too busy to see the doctor.
Not for the first time in her life, Joanne had felt abandoned by a man even if it wasn’t entirely his fault. However, from that day on, she’d been obsessed with staying healthy. And sure, maybe a little bit preoccupied with safety and security. Who could blame her?
“Want some coffee?” Mom asked.
“You know I can’t drink coffee this late or I’ll be up all night.”
“Decaf?”
“Okay. Sure.”
Joanne waited for her mother to come back from the kitchen, scrolling through her phone to avoid the photos of her smiling dad looking down on her. From heaven, if you believed in that sort of thing, and Joanne did. What would he think about the mess she’d made out of her life? He’d always encouraged her to take risks. To try out for the volleyball team even if she was at best an average player. To apply for the school of her dreams. To ask out the boy she was interested in, instead of waiting for him to ask her.
But at some point, Joanne had chosen safety over happiness.
Mom brought in the cups and set them on the table near the leather couch, which had seen better days. “Have you read the book yet?”
“What book?”
She cocked her head. “The grief book.”
Oh yeah. That. No. She hadn’t. “I’m not going to read that book.”
“Why not?”
“Because nobody died. And if a dream died, it died a long time ago.”
“What are you talking about? Is this about your father?”
Yes and no. Maybe it was a little bit about living the life he would have wanted for her. “No, it’s about Chuck. I don’t think I ever loved him and even he knew that.”
Mom clutched her chest. “Really? But you were going to marry him.”
“Don’t remind me. It’s embarrassing.” She picked up her cup, the warmth seeping through her fingertips. “He came by the shop and he wants his ring back.”
“The nerve!”
At least they were on the same page about that. Because Joanne had a feeling
Mom would not agree with the rest of what she had to tell her. If she’d inherited anything from her mother besides her blond hair and fair complexion, it was that longing for everything to remain the same. Mom didn’t even want to replace old furniture or rearrange the way it was placed. “If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.” A common saying from her mother.
Her mother, who had been there for her when Hud broke up with Joanne. When she’d gone out with Matt in retaliation and gotten pregnant with their son. But that was all such a long time ago.
“I have something important to tell you.”
“I hope it’s not that you’ve given him the ring back! Not until he pays you back for every last red cent!”
Oh yay! Another thing they agreed on. “That’s exactly what I told him.”
She shook a finger at Joanne. “Smart.”
“But that’s not my news. I wanted to tell you, before you heard through the town rumor mill. Hud and I...we’re...we’re a thing now.”
“Hmmm.”
So, she’d already heard. “Alright. Who told you?”
“Iris, because remember, she’s very good friends with Trish’s grandmother. They see each other every week for their knitting circle.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Joanne waited a beat. “Go on. I know you have something to say about me and Hud. Get it off your chest.”
“You know how I feel about Hud. I adore him. He’s a good friend to you.”
“But...?”
“A husband? I don’t know. What kind of thirty-two-year old man hasn’t ever been married, or even engaged?”
“That’s pretty judgy of you. I’ve never been married and I’m thirty-two.”
“That’s because you wouldn’t marry Matt when he gallantly asked you to.”
Not this again. “Matt and I never loved each other.”
“You should have tried, at least. He was willing to.”
But being married as teenagers wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to do, either. They’d both been still living with their parents.
“We were teenagers so we would have probably divorced anyway. He was gone all the time.”
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