Season of Sisters (9 page)

"I teach math, not life skills. Believe me, I am the very last person who should volunteer for something like this."

"Nonsense," Charlene said.

"I don't believe that," Grace scoffed.

"You should. Because I... oh, shoot." Holly raked her fingers through her hair. "I can't deal with this. I've got to... I'm just... oh, would you look at that?"

She gestured wildly toward the center of the ballroom. "That girl is dragging that long train behind her. Someone is going to step on it and it'll ruin the gown or somebody will get hurt."

She dashed away as if off to save the world rather than a particularly unattractive wedding dress.

Grace sighed as she watched Holly attempt to help a bride who obviously didn't want help. Maggie clucked her tongue. "Running away again. Something is going on there."

Grace agreed. "Holly acts like she's scared to death."

Maggie pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "A hotel employee mentioned to me a few minutes ago that they've set out chocolate chip cookies and drinks in the boardroom for volunteers. Let's get Holly to take a break with us. See if we can get her to spill."

Even as they made the decision, Holly returned. She addressed Charlene, who now was busy with her calculator and receipt book, totaling the day's sales. "All right. Here's the truth. I can't believe I'm being such a blabbermouth. First the list. Now this." She flung out her hands, gesturing toward the racks of wedding gowns. "I can't believe I'm in the middle of the fairyland of girl dreams, confessing my deepest and darkest."

She blew out a heavy breath. "I can't help those girls. I would be a terrible example. Teaching is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Believe me, those parents wouldn't want me around their daughters during such a vulnerable time."

"Why the heck not?" Maggie put her hands on her hips, her expression perplexed.

Holly shut her eyes, licked her lips, then faced her past. "When I was fifteen, a month after my mother's sister died, I attempted suicide."

Grace covered her mouth with her hands to hide her gasp. Maggie's eyes went wide and round. Charlene gave Holly an encouraging smile.

"Daddy did everything he could. Sent me to a shrink, made sure I took my medicine." A smile flickered on her lips as she glanced at Grace and Maggie. "Took me on the best Saturday-Sunday drives. But nothing helped. I was thinking about trying again. Then one of my teachers started talking to me. Her mother had passed away recently and she said she understood what I was feeling. She talked to me, not about death and dying, but about girl stuff. Light stuff."

"Makeup and boys and shoes," Maggie said, repeating Grace's earlier words.

Holly nodded. "She got me to talk. By the time school let out for the summer, I was over the worst of it. She inspired me to become a teacher."

Gently, Charlene asked, "So you will work with these girls?"

After a moment's hesitation, Holly again nodded. "Yes. I guess so. Except, I want to start out slow. I'm thinking we could exchange e-mails. See how it goes."

"Good idea." Charlene found a note pad and a pen and asked Holly to write down the information she'd need.

When she was done, Holly straightened, obviously ready to beat a retreat. "The sale ends at four. It's quarter till now. Would it help if I headed for the dressing room and started boxing up veils?"

"Yes, thank you."

Charlene explained how the veils and petticoats should be rolled and stored, and Holly headed off. Grace watched her go and realized the emotion filling her heart was a sense of maternal pride. The feeling surprised her. After all, she barely knew Holly. Still, something about the girl called to Grace, touched a place within her. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that Holly so obviously still missed her mother.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the connection Grace felt wasn't to Holly, but to the woman who couldn't be here to assist and advise her daughter as she navigated the maze of life. The notion made sense, considering. "I wonder what her name was," she mused.

"Who?" Charlene asked.

"Holly's mother."

Holly's mother. The woman whose life the breast cancer dragon had extinguished way too young. The woman whose light, however, continued to shine. It shone in her bright, brave, empathetic daughter.

Grace knew just what to do. "Holly?" she called.

The young woman glanced over her shoulder. Grace smiled tenderly and spoke the words Holly needed to hear. "Your mother would be so proud."

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Holly awoke slowly to the toasty sensation of sunshine on her face. Without opening her eyes, she grinned into her pillow. Sleeping late was one of the best things about this year's Spring Break.

She was trying hard to take note of all the things she enjoyed about her week off this month. She needed something to balance all the negatives that plagued her.

The smile faded. She and Justin had planned to go away this week. They'd had reservations at a B&.B in the Hill Country. Holly had intended to spend the week working on number eighteen:
I will be a man's "Best He Ever Had."

Instead, she'd spent her time on number twenty-seven:
I will read a thousand books simply for pleasure.
It was a worthy goal, but not nearly as much fun as the other.

She missed Justin so bad it made her stomach hurt.

Holly wondered if he'd taken off work as scheduled. She knew he wouldn't go to the Hill Country alone, but he might have gone somewhere else. He might have gone fishing. Justin liked to fish. Who knows, he might have gone up to his family's lake house at Lake Texoma for the week. He might be fishing with Mike Prescott. He might be catching a twelve-pound striper right this very minute, the same fish that was supposed to be destined for Holly's hook to fulfill number nine.

"Aaargh," she cried, burrowing her head in her pillow even as the phone beside her bed began to ring. She let it trill four times before picking up. "Hello?"

"Holly? It's Maggie. I just got a call from Grace and she's begging for our help. Are you busy this morning?"

Holly glanced at the stack of novels beside her bed. "My plans can wait."

"Wonderful. It's nine now. Can you be ready in half an hour? I'll pick you up on the way."

"On the way to where?"

"Silke's. A little boutique on Camp Bowie. We're meeting Grace there at ten. She wants help choosing her anniversary party dress."

"Oh, that sounds like fun. I'll be... Silke's?" Horror colored Holly's voice. "That's where Justin's mother took me to try on wedding gowns. That's where
Randall
works."

Maggie's tone imitated awe. "He is a god."

Holly's gaze landed on her stack of paperback novels. "Maybe I should skip this excursion, after all. If Grace has Randall's opinion, she won't need mine. I have a lot to do today and—"

"She wants very badly for you to join us. She asked me to make the request since this is your vacation and she didn't want to put you on the spot."

Randall. Ugh.
"What if Justin's mother shows up?"

"I'll get rid of her. I promise. You can hide in the dressing room until I get the job done. Grace can sneak you cookies from the bakery next door."

Holly always had a difficult time saying no to sweets. At least that was the explanation she gave herself as, an hour later, she found herself exchanging small talk with the only man alive who'd put a tape measure to her breasts.

When Grace emerged from the dressing room in an ice blue beaded silk evening suit, Holly grasped the distraction like a lifeline. "That's beautiful. I love the color."

Randall directed Grace onto a carpet-covered platform in the center of the mirrored sitting area, then fixed and fussed and eventually shooed Grace back into the dressing room to change. The second dress was a simple black sheath with a jacket. Maggie adored it; Randall despised it. Holly feared they might break out into a fist-fight at any moment.

The debate raged for a dozen outfits and almost two hours. To Holly's surprise, she found herself weighing in with an opinion almost every time. However, the most important person in the decision-making process sank deeper into indecisiveness with every change of clothes.

"I give up," Grace wailed softly when Randall left the room in search of yet another outfit. "They're all pretty. They're all way too expensive. Maybe I should wear something I already have."

"To your golden anniversary party?" Maggie gasped, enacting a theatric faintness with a hand against her forehead. "I should say not."

"But Maggie—"

"No. Your fiftieth anniversary dress is second in importance only to your wedding dress."

"In that case, I
should
wear something from my closet. Ben and I were married at the courthouse. The dress I wore was six months old. I did have a pretty little headpiece with a veil." She paused, smiled wistfully, and added, "I always regretted not having a formal wedding."

For a moment, silence lay on the air like a delicate French lace. Holly felt a pang in her chest as she tried to swallow, longing for Justin.

Maggie sighed. "Our wedding was lovely. You saw my gown. I kept my veil. Actually, it was a hat. Very seventies. You wouldn't have expected it to go with the vintage gown, but somehow, it did."

Eyeing a stylishly turned out Maggie, Holly didn't doubt it for a moment. For today's shopping expedition, she'd dressed in basic, classic black that Randall had eyed with greedy attention. Holly glanced down at her own jeans and sneakers and winced.

"We married at Sacred Heart Church in Wichita Falls," Maggie continued. "We decorated the altar in votives and yellow roses. My colors were blue and yellow. Do girls even do colors anymore?"

Holly shrugged. She hadn't a clue. She worked hard to avoid weddings and their arrangements. She'd managed to make it to twenty-five without being a bridesmaid once—no easy feat, considering she'd been asked eight times.

Maggie giggled. "You know the worst thing about getting married in the seventies? The tuxes. To this day I can't believe I got Mike Prescott to wear a white tux and baby blue ruffled shirt."

"Oh, my," Grace said.

"He used to say that if I ever needed proof that he loved me, all I had to do was pull out our wedding pictures."

Seeing the sadness invade her eyes, Holly hastened to move the conversation along. "What did Ben wear to your wedding, Grace?"

Clasping thin hands, Grace gazed into the past. "His one and only suit. Navy blue. He looked so handsome."

Randall swept into the room with three more dresses for Grace, one of them an ivory silk. "Try that one next," Holly suggested. "It reminds me of a wedding gown."

"Why, you're right," Maggie agreed. "In fact, I saw something similar at the Pink Sisterhood sale."

Sadly, that particular dress didn't fit properly around Grace's hips and when Randall conferred with the shop's seamstress, she confirmed that this was not the anniversary dress for Grace.

Throughout the discussion, for once, Maggie remained silent. After Randall excused himself to make a phone call and just as Grace began to return to the dressing room, she piped up. "Why don't you buy a wedding gown. I sold a gown on Saturday to a woman who was celebrating her thirty-fifth. Fifty has so much more cachet. That's what you should do, Grace. Make a renewal of vows part of the party. You could finally have your formal wedding. Church, flowers, wedding cake. The works."

"Oh, that would be lovely." Grace's eyes lit with excitement, then suddenly dimmed. "I... can't do it."

"Why not?" Holly asked.

Grace's chin angled up, her jaw taking on a stubborn set. "Frankly, it's a personal matter and none of your concern. Now, I'd appreciate it if you dropped the subject."

She marched into the dressing room, then the door slammed shut behind her with a bang.

"Well." Maggie looked at Holly. "The woman does a good snit in addition to a sulk and a pout. Do you have a clue what just happened here?"

"I think you touched a nerve."

"Obviously. And Ben's Gracie showed us she has a temper. Last time I saw that much starch was when the Stay-Flo truck turned over on Airport Freeway."

When Grace returned a few minutes later she wore her own clothes and a contrite expression. "I apologize for my outburst. It was terribly rude of me. I hope you'll allow me to buy you lunch to make up for it."

Maggie slipped her arm through Grace's. "Honey, I never turn down a free lunch, although I insist on buying dessert."

"Good. Let's find Randall."

"I'm here, madam. Have you made your choice?"

Grace turned a pleading gaze on her two friends. "Which one? The blue? The salmon suit? The black one?"

"Well..." Maggie pursed her lips. "I think maybe the blue—"

"None of them," Holly said, shoving to her feet, speaking with such certainty that it obviously took both Grace and Maggie aback. "She should have an ivory dress. This one was almost perfect. I think we should keep looking until we find one that
is
perfect."

Grace glanced nervously toward Randall. "But—"

He clucked his tongue and patted her hand. "Not to worry, Mrs. Hardeman. Your friend is right. You must continue to search. Might I suggest the Lemon Tree two blocks north? It's been a pleasure to help you. Miss Weeks. Mrs. Prescott."

"Thank you, Randall. You're a dear." Maggie flashed him her brightest smile. "By the way, I set aside a small stack of things I'd like. Charge them to my account and send them out to me, would you please?"

"It will be my pleasure."

On the way outside, Holly noted a shirt atop a small mountain of clothing and accessories piled high on a tapestry chair. It was the same shirt she'd seen Maggie admiring earlier. "Is
that
what you call a small stack?"

Maggie grinned. "I haven't been shopping in some time."

Grace suggested a small cafe in the hospital district.

They ordered salads to assuage guilt, then one piece of chocolate cake with three forks. They discussed their mutual love of chocolate while waiting for the dessert. Holly asked, "Have y'all tried the German chocolate cake at Colonial Cafeteria? This cake is good, but that's superb. We'll have to go there next time."