The Wedding Shop Read Online Free

Lloyd never smiles.”
    Cora bit back her laugh. “Shh, Mama. She’ll hear you. You can’t deny they smell wonderful.”
    “They do, but I’ve told her to her face her sweet buns are like rocks.” Mama moved to the bottom of the stairs. “Isn’t that right, Odelia?”
    “What’s that, Esmé?”
    “Your baking could break the strongest teeth.”
    “That’s what you’ve been telling me for twenty years, but Lloyd don’t seem no worse for the wear.”
    “Except he never smiles.” Mama turned to Cora, whispering behind her hand. “’Cause he ain’t got no teeth.”
    “Mama, stop.” Cora muted the laugh in her chest. “You taught me better. Now act like a kind Christian.”
    “Telling the truth is being a kind Christian.” Mama moved to the remaining windows, slipping down the top panes. In the grand salon the grandfather clock chimed the hour.
    Eight o’clock. Cora must get herself together. At the display cases, she retrieved the head forms from the bottom drawers and adorned them with veils, curving the long tulle around the glass and splaying it across the polished hardwood. On another set of heads, she stuck ornate combs into the coarse, fake hair.
    Next she set out long, silky white gloves with pearl buttons and arranged a pearl set on a blue velvet runner.
    The shop had an important client this morning. A Miss Ruth Dunlap from Birmingham, a society bride who also happened to be a shop legacy. Her mother, Mrs. Laurel Schroder Dunlap, born and raised in Heart’s Bend, bought her gown and trousseau from Aunt Jane in 1905. She would expect the royal treatment for her daughter. As well she should.
    Jane Scott cut her bridal fashion chops in Milan and Paris in the late 1880s, bringing them back home to Tennessee when her mama, Granny Scott, died. Never in all their born days had the women of Heart’s Bend—farmers’ wives, mountain women, half-breeds, and former slaves—seen the likes of what Aunt Jane brought to town.
    But they loved it. Aunt Jane’s elegant style made the small-town shop a legend in middle Tennessee and northern Alabama, launching an unlikely small-town tradition and becoming Heart’s Bend’s darling.
    “Cora, I know you don’t like me nosing into your business,” Mama said, returning to the small salon. “But—”
    “No, I don’t. I’m not a child.” Cora examined the last display case. Everything seemed to be in order.
    With a smile at Mama, she headed up to the mezzanine and her desk. She shuffled the papers, shoving aside a large box of mail. All work for tomorrow after Miss Dunlap returned to Alabama.
    Mama followed her up.
    “You are not a child. Which is precisely my point.” Mama anchored her hands on the side of the desk and leaned over Cora. “You’re thirty years old, darling. I’d been married, given birth to two children, and become president of the local Tennessee Equal Suffrage Association by the time I was twenty-eight.”
    “Cora, you want to choose a veil for Miss Dunlap?” Odelia popped out of the wide, long storage room. “I think gloves would go well with her gown too.”
    “I set out the veils and gloves on the display cases in the small salon. She can choose when she tries on the dress.”
    Aunt Jane skimped on nothing when she hired Nashville architect Hugh Cathcart Thompson to design The Wedding Shop. It was the height of high class.
    A place of business and a place of residence. Though Cora had yet to occupy the third floor for herself, Aunt Jane had lived atop her beloved business for thirty years.
    “What about a leaving dress? Casual wear? We have the samples from Elsa Schiaparelli’s knit collection.”
    “Yes, of course, let her choose. We can order what she wants. The knitwear is still popular.”
    Cora liked Schiaparelli’s styles. As if she knew women were real people, with real work to do.
    “Odelia, help me out here. Tell Cora not to close off her heart.” Mama brushed her hand over Cora’s dark hair. “That’s all