The Wedding Shop Read Online Free Page A

I’m saying. Walk out with another man. Don’t just stand at the window waiting for the captain. You run a wedding shop, yet have never been the bride.”
    “Thank you, Mama. I hadn’t noticed.” Everyone in a town the size of Heart’s Bend noticed the thirty-year-old wedding shop owner had never been a bride. “Weren’t you the one who taught me to follow my heart?”
    “Yes, but I sure didn’t know it’d lead to a dead end.” Mama started down the stairs. “I’ll say no more. I don’t want you upset when the Dunlaps arrive. Shall I go for the pastries? I have time before the coffee and tea.”
    “No, Mama. I said I’ll go.” She needed the escape, the fresh air, the walk to straighten out her thoughts, to dream of him for a moment without Mama invading.
    In the four years she’d known and loved Rufus St. Claire, he’d never lied to her. Ever. He’d been delayed, hampered by shipping schedules, and hindered by the rule of the river, but he always kept his word, walking up First Avenue with his rogue smile, his arms laden with gifts, his kisses more sweet and passionate than the time before.
    Then he’d press his silky lips against her ear. One day you’re going to marry me.
    Cora shivered, collapsing in her chair. She missed him so much she ached. She’d been fine all winter and spring, satisfied with his letters, until this week, until she saw the back end of March but not the face of the man she loved.
    Leaving the mezzanine, with its three oval, cherry-framed mirrors used to dress and style the brides, Cora felt nothing like the brides she loved and served. But oh, she longed to walk where they walked.
    She’d dreamt of her day in this shop since she was a girl. Of descending the grand staircase to the musical ooh’s and ahh’s of Mama and Odelia, her groom’s mother—if she was alive—her friends and family.
    She’d sip sweet tea and nibble on a butter cookie with sugar sprinkles, full of joy and life over her coming day.
    She fought feeling dull, old, and left behind. But he’d promised. And until she knew otherwise, she’d follow her heart, believing and waiting.
    “Esmé, help me out here, will you?” Odelia said, motioning to the mannequin she styled with the dress Miss Dunlap chose during her first trip to the shop a month ago. Miss Ruth Dunlap had selected a dress from a Butterick pattern, and Odelia worked her magic.
    Cora anticipated Ruth’s first glance at her gown. It was always a thrill, the bride’s face a sight to behold. It’s happening. I’m truly getting married.
    When the clock chimed eight thirty, Cora fluffed the sofa pillows in the grand salon and made sure the curtains were opened wide. The shop was ready.
    “Miss Dunlap is going to be swept off her feet,” Cora said, heading to the stairs. “Mama, Odelia, I’m off to get the pastries. Mama, remind me to put a record on the Victrola when the Dunlaps drive up.” Aunt Jane always liked the brides to enter with music playing, and Cora wanted to carry on the tradition. Because, after all, wasn’t love the truest song of all?
    Collecting her hat and sweater, Cora ducked into the first-floor powder room to fix on her hat. Seeing her reflection, she paused.
    Thirty. She was thirty years old. Not a girl. Nor even a young woman. But a grown woman, a working woman. Where had the years gone? Where had she spent her youth?
    She had been in love with her high school sweetheart, Rand Davis, until the war. Then he returned home and married Elizabeth White.
    Good luck to them. May they be blessed. Cora had been so grieved over the death of her big brother, Ernest Junior, at Somme that she never found the heart to pine for Rand.
    She leaned closer to the mirror, gently touching the corner of her eyes where one thin line drew toward her cheek.
    In the twenties it seemed everyone was marrying. The shop was busy. But the door just never opened for her.
    Because, she liked to believe, she was waiting for Rufus. Oh, seeing him