A Lowcountry Bride

by Preslaysa Williams

  Maya’s rehearsed speech turned to mush in her brain. “Well. Yes. Um.”

  The loan officer pulled a blue file out of her drawer and flipped it open. “Says here you are employed and—”

  “I’m employed, but I’m on unpaid leave.”

  Ursula rolled her eyes. “You mess up on your job or something? Because we don’t hand out loans to people who have disciplinary actions against them at work.”

  “No. I had a family emergency.” Maya shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the prospect of talking about her father’s situation. The more she talked, the more worried she felt. “My father fell and broke his hip. I was in New York when it happened. Rushed down here as soon as I heard.”

  Ursula clasped her hands together and leaned over the desk, her sparkly red reindeer earrings glittering in the fluorescent lights. Reindeer earrings in the spring. Interesting move. “How long are you off work?”

  “Until the end of June. I hope to return sooner if I can. It depends on my father’s mobility.”

  “That’s a long time without any income. How will you repay this loan?”

  Anxiety strangled Maya, a response lodged somewhere between her larynx and her throat, unwilling to let go. “Once I get back to work, things should be good. Also, I’m working on garnering revenue by selling my gowns to private clients, boutiques, and larger department stores.”

  “So you’re self-employed too?”

  “Sort of. Not officially. I haven’t created a business plan or anything. It’s just a way to earn some income until I return to work. My job is my main source of income.”

  “It isn’t right now. Anyone bought your stuff yet?” Ursula asked.

  An image of Derek flashed in her mind. “No.”

  “Have you ever owned a business before?”

  Did a lemonade stand in fifth grade count? “No.”

  “You should give self-employment some serious thought. Employers can be fickle. I already told you about the issues with my reduced retirement check. These days, the only person you can count on is yourself. Because of your credit rating and your current leave-without-pay situation, we can give you a small personal loan of five hundred dollars. Not much else.”

  Five hundred dollars? That was it? Her rent alone was three thousand dollars a month, and it was due in two weeks. Her vacation pay and this tiny loan only covered one month of rent and nothing else. She’d have to earn money another way to cover her rent for future months. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” Ursula shrugged. “Don’t you have a credit card?”

  “It’s maxed out. My savings is almost drained too.”

  “Sorry to hear that. If you had a small business, you could apply for a small business loan with us to cover your start-up costs. You’d have to show us a business plan and a business license and all of that jazz. You should give it some thought.”

  Maya’s dream had always been to work for Laura Whitcomb, and she’d gotten her dream. Now that she was there, there was no way she’d give that up for a business. Self-employment was risky anyway. She tried her best to make that dress sale at the boutique, and it’d gotten her nowhere. “I’m not ready to own a business, but thanks for the loan.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ursula stood up and shook Maya’s hand. “I gotta get to my lunch break. If you go to the front teller’s window and give them your Social Security number, you’ll get a direct deposit of the loan into your account today. Have a nice day.” In seconds, Ursula disappeared, slamming the door behind her.

  Maya’s hopes fizzled. Splat. She fisted her hands together and took a deep breath to steady herself. Persist. Persist. Persist. That was what Mama would say, but right now, persistence seemed hard. I’ll have to sell a dress or two or fifty. Or figure out another way.

  Grabbing her purse, Maya strode toward the bank lobby and waited in line for the next teller. Despite the cool temperature in the building, dampness clung to her skin and soaked the small of her back. Yucky worry. It did nothing but add weight to the pressures threatening to take her under.

  Maya exhaled. “What do I do now?”

  She waited for a response from above.

  Nothing.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, careful not to let emotion get the best of her. Her cell phone trilled and an unfamiliar number flitted across the screen. Who was this? Not many unknown numbers called her. “Hello?” she answered.

  “Miss Jackson?”

  The deep timbre of that voice jogged her awareness. Derek. She’d met him only yesterday, but she would recognize that voice anywhere. His tone held a ring to it that accelerated all that prickling.

  Prickling? Since when did she let herself get all prickly? Note to self: Stop it. “Derek?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m calling because an interesting opportunity just came up. I know you’re looking to earn some extra cash. Ginger recommended I get in touch with you again about selling dresses at the store. After I spoke to her more, I realized she was right.”

  Of course Ginger’s right. “Oh.”

  “I wanted to know if you could return to the shop. Perhaps bring your portfolio and one or two dress samples. I’d like to look them over. Please?”

  Maya twisted her mouth. This guy already had refused her offer. If she had any ounce of self-respect, she’d say no. She tugged on the hem of her sundress and inched forward in the line. Maya could also figure out another way to earn extra cash. She had to check out that other boutique in town that Laura had mentioned anyway.

  “Do you think you could stop by again today?”

  Oh, this dude just wants me to drop everything, huh? “I have other plans today.”

  “Oh really? What plans?”

  He was nosy too? Sheesh. “Why do you need to know?”

  “Just asking. No reason.” His volume lowered and the sound of customers in the background filtered through the phone line. “I’d really like you to stop by the store again, whenever it’s most convenient for you. What do you think?”

  He was willing to be flexible and meet on her terms. That was hopeful.

  “Miss Jackson?”

  Maya floated out of her private reverie. “Yes?”

  “Would you be willing to stop by again?”

  Maya thought of the portfolio shoved in her attaché. All was not lost. She still had a chance to pitch her designs to Derek and hopefully make enough money to cover what she didn’t get in her loan. “Yes.”

  His voice deepened. “When will you stop by?”

  The idea of seeing Derek again sent a flurry of anticipation through the pit of her belly. She squelched it. “Does Monday work?”

  “I’ll be here Monday—waiting.”

  After saying goodbye, she went to the teller’s window and arranged for the electronic transfer of her loan. When she thought of Derek’s smile, Maya’s steps stuttered in time with her skipped heartbeat.

  Note to self: Stop it, again.

  No matter what, she had to ignore Derek’s beautiful smile. No matter what, she had to ignore Derek’s kind ways. No matter what, she had to help brides realize their own happily ever afters, never her own.

  For Maya, love was simply fodder for fairy tales.

  Chapter Four

  Today was Maya’s chance to get extra money. She awakened early and worked for a few hours on her design concept for Ashley Tate’s gown and took pictures of her gown for the head designer position. Both were as good as she was going to get them, so Maya emailed the design concept and images to Laura. Hopefully, Laura would like at least one of them. Maya also wrote a quick note about her plans to scout bridal shops later this week.

  Afterward, Maya quickly got dressed and headed to her car with two gowns and her portfolio in hand. She left the rest of her gowns at home. Her heart beat triple time as she considered her impending meeting with Derek at the boutique. He sounded hunky on the phone when he called her at the bank, but she wasn’t thinking about all of that. Correction: She shouldn’t be thinking tha
t. This was business.

  If she could convince him to purchase at least three of her dresses, that would not only cover her rent for future months, but it would also cover some of her father’s medical expenses.

  That would be a huge blessing.

  Minutes after paying the parking meter, she headed down Queen Street. A sting of pain seized her calf muscles. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Please, not another episode,” she whispered to herself.

  Maya leaned against the window of Gus’s Diner. Why’d her life have to be so complicated? Why’d she have to fight through this illness?

  The doctor had warned her against overdosing on her medications, but she really wanted to do so now. A thousand tiny needles pricked up her thighs and around her back. No. No. No. I’ll get through this. This morning’s dosage was enough.

  Once she got the chance, she’d make an appointment with a local doctor ASAP.

  She quickly dug in her purse for her bottle of hydroxyurea. She took it like clockwork every single day, and she hadn’t missed this morning’s dose. Should she take extra to ease the pain? There was no way she could pitch her dresses to Derek like this.

  Maya was used to sucking it up and downplaying her illness in front of others. Once her parents had alerted the school nurse of her symptoms, it seemed like everyone started treating her like she was helpless. Maya hated it. So she learned to push past her illness and show that she was just as capable as her sickle cell anemia–free classmates.

  Yet as Maya grew older, the symptoms became more and more burdensome. Eventually, sickle cell anemia would win.

  The notion gnawed at her. It was the one thing driving her to do something with her life before she died.

  “Push through this, Maya,” she said. She stood away from the diner’s window and shook out her legs. Moments later, the pain subsided. “Thank you, God. Back to normal.”

  Maya kept walking down the sidewalk and inhaled the crisp spring air. It flooded her lungs and soothed the aches she’d just experienced. This weather was a welcome reprieve from the humidity, which had been typical for the past few days in Charleston. The palmettos provided areas of shade from the sunlight. That was one thing she missed about the Lowcountry—the soothing weather, the friendly smiles, and the easygoing nature of the community.

  Yet there were few opportunities to get high-profile clients and make a name for herself in South Carolina, which was another reason she moved to New York.

  Maya hooked a right onto State Street and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. Tucked inside of her purse, alongside her medicine, was her portfolio. She hadn’t had a chance to show it to Derek on her first visit to the boutique. She’d do so today.

  The white oval sign, which read always a bride est. 1984, came into view. It swung on its rusted hinges, keeping time with the lazy breeze. Salty dots of sweat formed on her upper lip. She was used to selling Laura Whitcomb’s gowns. Selling her own designs was nerve-racking, but she put on her self-assured face anyway. “Here goes nothing, Maya,” she whispered, and mustered up her confidence. “Time to sell.”

  She opened the door. No one was in sight. Derek must be in the back office or something. He’d probably come out soon, now that he heard the bell.

  Maya set her purse on the counter and took out her portfolio. On her first visit to the shop, she hadn’t had much time to take in the space. Now that all was quiet, she did.

  The paint was 1980s bland, with its mustard tinge. The carpet beneath her feet was an old, dull brown. This place needed a makeover.

  “Hey, Maya,” Derek called from behind.

  Maya turned, and her heart fluttered at the sight of him. He wore a crisp collared shirt, a pair of dark brown khakis with matching loafers that shined. Business casual and handsome.

  Did she just think of Derek as handsome again? Maya sighed. Guess it wasn’t a problem to notice someone’s looks, but she sure wasn’t going to get entangled by it.

  “I hope I’m not too early,” she replied, pushing aside any thoughts of his attractiveness.

  “Not early at all.” He gestured to the portfolio lying on the countertop. “What did you bring?”

  “Have a look.” She gestured to her designs and smiled.

  Derek stepped closer, and Maya caught a whiff of his light cologne. She needed to stop noticing these little things about him. She was here to sell dresses, not to flirt.

  “Nice work.” He flipped through the designs. “Although, as a relatively new owner of the store, I only have a cursory knowledge of what sells and what doesn’t around here. And with Ginger retiring soon, I don’t know how I’ll manage. I’ve been searching for help.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” she said, surprised by her confidence. “Remember that it’s not so much about the dresses, it’s about making the brides feel like royalty.”

  “Royalty, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Derek didn’t respond. Instead he kept studying her work. “Last time I looked at this, I was taken aback by the wholesale prices. Those prices may work in New York, but not down here.”

  “They’re worth every dollar—or thousand,” she said, smiling. “You know that, or else you wouldn’t have called me back.”

  A note of hesitation danced across his features. “Yes, about that. I was thinking of a consignment arrangement for your gowns. You can pay the store twenty dollars per dress, nonrefundable, for showing the dresses. I was thinking we can have six or seven dresses on consignment.”

  Consignment? That wasn’t good. A dress sale wouldn’t be guaranteed.

  “If they sell, we take a ten percent fee from the retail price,” he continued. “You can keep the rest. This will help me keep the costs down while you get a place to show off your work. I think that’s a fair deal. I’m offering you low enough costs.”

  She twisted her mouth. Selling on consignment wasn’t the same as selling her dresses to him outright and on wholesale. Would consignment be worth it? What if she didn’t sell them? Then her efforts would’ve been wasted.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer today, if you’re still wavering,” Derek added with a smile.

  Maya would give an answer today. “Selling clothes on consignment would be nice, but I have bills to pay too. I’d like to have some steady income to cover the costs of my future months of rent. While it’s a nice offer, I can’t accept it.”

  Derek drummed his fingers on the counter. “Understood. We all have to take care of our responsibilities. I have a responsibility to this store. To make sure it’s fiscally sound.”

  A faint wash of disappointment welled up within her, and then the disappointment grew stronger and stronger. It was bad enough that Laura wasn’t paying her, but now she wouldn’t even be able to cover her rent while she was down here in South Carolina. What would she do if she fell behind and got evicted? Her current place in New York was the best deal she could find, and it was pricey.

  This was getting worse and worse.

  “I have an idea,” Derek said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’m looking for a new buyer and store manager, and you’re looking for some steady income while you’re in Charleston. How about I hire you to work here temporarily?”

  Maya bit her lower lip. “You want me to work here?”

  “Yes. Until you move back to New York, of course. I really need the assistance. It’ll also give me some time to gather my bearings until I find a permanent employee.”

  “Would I still sell my clothes on consignment?” she asked.

  “You sure can. You definitely can.”

  “I still have to take my father to his physical therapy appointments.”

  “Oh. That’s right. You have to care for your father. You’re more than welcome to take your father to his physical therapy during business hours. I wouldn’t be able to pay you for that time, of course, but you’ll have that flexibility.” A flit of sadness crossed his features. “Family is important to me.”

 
This could work. This would be perfect, actually. While she awaited Laura’s decision on the promotion and the Ashley Tate gig, she’d work here. “You have a deal. I’ll work here temporarily, and I’ll bring seven gowns for consignment tomorrow.”

  They shook hands, and Maya smiled. This wasn’t exactly what she was looking for when she walked into the boutique today, but it was a great way to make sure her finances would stay on track.

  Derek was turning out to be a handsome blessing in disguise.

  Two days had passed since she’d accepted Derek’s offer, and Maya had grown more accustomed to the idea of working at the boutique. It would be perfect. Not only would Maya earn extra cash and potentially sell some of her dresses, but she might even teach him a few things about the bridal gown trade during her time.

  Her father was thrilled that she got the job, if only for the fact that Maya wouldn’t be around all day to bug him. Maya had a plan for that too. She intended to call him during her breaks and lunch, just to check in on him. Of course, she’d also take him to all of his doctor’s appointments.

  From the looks of the boutique, the store was in desperate need of a makeover. Ginger’s last day of work was today, and Ginger probably hadn’t had the energy to devote to sprucing the place up. Perhaps Maya would help Derek in the aesthetics department as well.

  Never mind that he also happened to be incredibly good-looking. He was her boss now. When she arrived at work today, she’d try to convince him to do a makeover of the store.

  She might even take before and after pictures and show Laura that her skills extended beyond the outfits. She could also try to convince Laura on having her high-end merchandise featured in this store. Yes, Laura said that she was wary of having her gowns merchandised in such a “dingy and small” setting, but Maya had to do something to make sure she didn’t fall off her radar. Maybe that would be it.

  As Maya walked toward the boutique, she reached in her purse to get her prescription medicine. It was time for another dose, but then she saw that the bottle was empty.

  Darn it. Why’d she leave the refill at home? It was too late to return home and get her medication. If Maya did, she’d be late for her first day at work.