by Rachel Hauck
“It does make me proud to see what you’re doing. How the shop employs women in town. How the shop helps brides during their most glorious time.”
“Is it still glorious, Mama? Being married after thirty-four years?”
“Marriage is work, Cora, I'm not going to lie. It’s glorious some days and not so much on others.” Mama faced the strong breeze and raked her hair away from her face. “But it’s a worthy endeavor. I’d hate to see you miss out on such happiness after you have helped so many. Jane didn’t marry because she got her heart broken. She never let a man in. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up exactly like her.”
Cora faced the river and the bend in the Cumberland where she first saw Rufus’s Wayfarer five years ago. She had no idea the dashing captain would personally deliver goods to her shop. She had no idea he’d own her heart.
“No I won’t, Mama. I won’t. Rufus is a man of his word.”
“I have to ask, what about poor Birch, huh? He’s just not appealing to you?”
“The first time I saw Rufus it was summer. His skin was so brown from working in the sun. His hair golden to almost white. And his eyes, like endless blue skies. He walked through the shop’s back door, big as you please . . .”
“I remember that day but not the golden god you describe.”
Cora sighed. “Then perhaps it wasn’t for you to see. Birch never made me feel the way Rufus does.”
“Hello there.” Birch emerged from the trees, his slacks neatly creased, the cuff of his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the power of his forearms. “I wondered where you women had escaped to.”
His gaze met Cora’s and she turned away.
“Did Liberty serve the pie?” Mama said, patting her pocket, a habit she developed to make sure her cigarettes were both safe and hidden.
“She did. I had a slice of pumpkin and pecan.”
“You are always welcome at our table, Birch. Cora, I’m going in. Don’t stay out here too long. The air has a powerful chill.”
“I think I’ll go with you.” Cora turned to follow Mama, but Birch reached for her arm.
“Could I have a moment?”
“You two take your time.”
“How are you?” Birch released his grip.
“I’m well. But I can’t believe you came out here to ask me how I am.”
“It seemed more polite than starting with, ‘What is going on with you?’ ”
“What’s going on with . . . Nothing. Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems you’re avoiding me. Ever since the summer, since the Fourth of July party when your river man showed up out of nowhere, you hardly speak to me. You pass by me in church like I’m a leper.”
“A leper? Birch, I never took you for exaggerations.” She folded her arms, building up her defense. “You pass me, if truth be told. I seem to recall you keeping the company of Janice and Wanetta last Fourth. You were quite busy with the two of them. Ever since, you’ve given me the wide leper’s berth.”
“Pshaw, you make something out of nothing. At least they wanted to sit with me and ole Uncle Sam. I’d rather have been with you. But you had your riverboat captain.”
She trembled from the snap in the breeze, from the truth rising in this conversation. “I can’t be who you want me to be, Birch. I can’t.”
“How do you know?” He stepped forward, reaching for her, wrapping her in his arms. “You’ve never given me a chance.”
“Don’t.” She pressed against his chest, trying to twist free.
“I think you’re wasting your life on a man who doesn’t care.”
“You have no right, Birch. The best you’ve ever done is scowl at him.” The scent of a wood fire rode on the wind and it made Cora homesick for her youth, when Ernest Junior was alive and they’d run through the woods, building forts, playing make-believe, going home in the evening to a warm, cozy supper.
Even when Daddy disappeared in ’07 and ’14, Mama made sure their home was solid and safe.
“Because I don’t trust him.”
“So I’m a fool? I don’t know a bad man when I meet him?”
“You’re no one’s fool, Cora. I’m just saying—”
“That I love the wrong man? I should love you instead?” No more beating around the bush. She tossed back the covers of innuendo that had blanketed their relationship for years.
“Yes.” He pressed his fingers into her back, drawing her closer. “Love me.” He was her shield, in that moment, against the cold. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t you know? Can’t you see?”
She refused with a shake of her head, freeing herself from his arms. “Don’t you see? Y-you can’t love me, Birch. You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t love you and I can’t pretend. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can manage my own heart, Cora.”
“Do you hear yourself? You can choose but I can’t? Birch, he loves me, and if he has plans, goals that cause me to wait, then wait I will. So see, you cannot wait for me. I don’t love you in that way. Him, I love him. He’s the one for me.” She gripped the collar of his shirt. Hear me. “I’ve given him my heart and my word.”
“You’re a smart, wonderful woman, Cora. But you’ve let your heart become a slave to a river man’s charms.”
“Then let me never be free.” Did she mean it? She wanted to have in her heart what she saw on Liberty’s face.
“Cora, Birch, come. It’s Esmé.” Cousin Porky from Knox Country popped out from the trees. “She’s collapsed.”
“What? Mama . . .” Cora darted down the path toward the house. “Did you call the doctor?”
Birch ran alongside her, shoving aside low-swinging branches and overgrown bushes. “What happened, Porky?”
“It came out over dessert. Ernest finally told Esmé what’s going on. He’s lost everything, Cora. The bank, the house, the land, everything.”
She stopped running, crashing into a cold wall of dread. “Porky, you heard wrong. He’s reopening the bank before the new year. This was just a bump, a hiccup. He can’t have lost everything. That makes no sense. How could he have lost everything?” She wanted to run to the house, but her feet refused to leave their safe, very safe spot between the woods and the river.
“The Caldwell collapse devastated the south, Cora,” Porky said with a glance at Birch. “We’ve only seen the beginning. If he says he’s lost everything, he means he lost everything.”
HALEY
“Well?” Cole and Gomez conferred on the steps, talking contractorese.
Cole held up his finger. “One sec.”
Sigh. But, oh, this was her place. Hers.
“You’re smiling,” Cole said.
“I know. I can’t help it. I love it here. It feels so good. Clean and bright.”
“Clean? You’ve seen this place, the bathrooms? The third floor?”
Yeah, she’d seen the mess. Toured it all afternoon with Cole and Gomez. There was a lot of work and cleaning to be done. One part of her was knotted around eighty plus thousand dollars she needed to get this place up and running. The other part of her was wild with excitement.
But it wasn’t the externals that captured her. It was the aura, the feel of the place. All the hope and love stories hidden within the walls.
“Haley, Gomez will go with you to file the permits. He’s got the information you need to get it done right without hiccups.”
“You think we could get the third floor done first so I can move in?” Even if she had to camp out, use lanterns and candles, microwave box dinners at Java Jane’s, she was ready to be on her own.
“We can, but if you have a tight timeline, I’d get the shop part renovated first. You can pass inspection without the third floor being complete.” He called Haley over to sit with him on the steps. “Let’s go over this.” He turned his iPad for Haley to see. “Electric and plumbing all need to be redone. We don’t k
now what’s behind the walls, but I’m hoping no asbestos. The foundation seems good, but we’ll know more after the inspection. Gomez has a guy who can get out here right away. We need to sand and refinish the floors, including the stairs. All the walls need to be repaired in some fashion and painted. I’d go with white or gray paint with a dark wood floor.”
“I have a style in mind. Hollywood regency.”
“Hollywood regency. Never heard of it.”
“It’s perfect for this place.” She tapped the iPad. “What else?”
“The roof needs to be redone. Get ready to empty your wallet on that one. The windows need to be replaced. We can put in new, thick-pane windows except in the front where I’d recommend restoring the lead-pane windows. That’ll make the Historical Society happy.”
“And keep the shop’s charm.”
“Yes, and keep the shop’s charm.” His leg tapped hers as he shifted his position, and Haley braced against the ping his presence inspired. She’d have to battle this one. Not let him get the best of her. Romance was not even a speck on the horizon for her. “The front elevation needs to be cleaned up and landscaped, and the back porch is falling off. I suggest we knock it down.”
“No, I want to keep it.”
He sighed. “It’s not part of the original design.”
“But I want to keep it.”
Cole peeked over at Gomez. “The lady wants it.” He tapped on his screen. “Rebuild back porch. Kitchen on third floor. New powder room and bathroom.” With each word the reno budget multiplied. “Not sure what you want to do for inventory, but you’ll need furniture. Display cases and whatever else a bridal shop needs. Cash register, etcetera. I ballparked that number, trying to keep this thing around eighty grand.”
“I know. I know. I’m looking into it.” She found some 1890s display cases online, but they were out of this world on price. She’d do better to find pieces that needed refurbishing. But that only added to her timeline and renovation budget.
She figured she needed another ten grand to get started, but she was still researching gowns and veils and other trousseau items.
“And, oh, up here.” Cole jogged up to the mezzanine, Gomez and Haley following. “You’ll remember this door is locked. We can’t find the key so we don’t know what’s behind it.”
“Right. Keith thought we’d have to drill it open.”
Cole squatted down to inspect the lock. “The knob looks original. You sure you want to drill through it?” He looked back at Gomez. “You think you can get in here without breaking the kit?”
The man bent for a better look. “Bean Wells is the best locksmith around. I’ll get him to look at it.”
“Okay with you?” Cole glanced up at Haley. “Add another hundred to the budget, but you said you wanted to try to preserve it.”
“What’s another hundred to the hundred grand I don’t have?”
Gomez stepped back as Haley bent next to Cole, inspecting the lock. When she looked at him, their eyes were level, peering beyond the surface. The edge of his breath breezed past her face with the fragrance of mint. Haley stood. These moments had to stop.
“Hey,” she said. “What about the MicroFixIt guy? Would he have the key?”
“If he does, the key is long gone with him. He’s not even around here anymore.” Cole rose up, tapping notes on his iPad, then trying the door again. “I can’t believe no one’s tried to get in here before.”
“Maybe it’s reserved only for people who want to make it a wedding shop.”
“Ha!” Cole glanced back at her with a wink, making her stomach go into a free fall.
“Cole?” A deep voice billowed up from the main floor.
He made a face, exchanged a look with Gomez, then looked over the railing. “Brant Jackson, what’s up?”
Haley watched as Cole descended the stairs, meeting the man from Akron by the front door with a low, terse exchange. She couldn’t hear much. Just “You can’t blame me—”
“Don’t need you . . .”
“What about—”
Brant said a final word and walked out, leaving Cole standing in the shop’s small foyer, hands on his belt, lowering his head.
Haley descended the steps. “What’d he want?”
“Nothing.”
She bent to see his face. “Sure doesn’t look like nothing.”
“He fired me.”
“Fired you? Had he even hired you?”
“He said if I wasn’t going to be any help in getting this corner of Heart’s Bend for his parking lot, then he’d find someone else.” Cole glanced back into the shop.
“Hey, Brant Jackson, get a life. This is one little shop!”
Cole laughed, slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her away from the open front door. “Shh, he’ll hear you.” He reached around, shutting the door with his foot.
“From outside? Who cares?” Haley waited for him to release her, but instead he held on. “Hey, I’m sorry.” She glanced up at him, turning slightly out of his arms, freeing herself. “I know how much you wanted that job.”
“Yeah, well, you win some and you lose some.”
“Then I have to ask. Cole, will you be my contractor?”
He regarded her for a second, then stuck out his hand. “Under one condition.”
Haley popped her hand into his. “Anything.”
“You don’t mention Tammy anymore.”
Haley hesitated, searching his face for a hint of why. But she only saw a determined resolve. “All right. Deal.”
Chapter Twelve
CORA
February 1931
Cora awoke to a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning. The noise roused her from a hard, dreamless sleep. All her nights were dreamless since the bank failed. Since Daddy left.
Her heart beat a restless staccato as she kicked off the covers and moved to the window, opening the sash.
“Thundersnow,” she whispered, leaning out the window, inhaling the cold and clean snow.
Swirling, falling, drifting, downward, downward. Raising her palm, she tried to capture one, two, or three frozen crystals. But they melted in the warmth of her hand.
“God, please melt our troubles.”
Those simple words were her first real prayer since Daddy left two weeks before Christmas. He told Mama he was going out for pipe tobacco—she hollered for him to bring her a pack of cigarettes—and never returned.
He was man enough to send a Christmas card telling them not to worry, that he was all right.
However, Mama was not. She walked around in a daze, muttering to herself.
“Your father runs off when the times squeeze him, but he’ll be back. He always comes back. And look, we’re still in the house. Everything will be fine.”
She decorated for the holidays, putting up a Christmas tree so big the tip bent against the highest point of the ceiling.
Together Cora and Mama trimmed the tree, including three strings of those newfangled electric lights. Mama kept up appearances, shopping, volunteering with her charities, and teaching Sunday school.
She filled the house with the aroma of cakes, pies, and cookies. Cora guessed she gained a pound or two just breathing the sugary sweet air.
Mama held a Christmas Tea for the shop seamstresses who churned out 321 wedding gowns, going-away dresses, and evening gowns, along with an assortment of veils and other sundries.
On Christmas Day they slept in, though Cora wondered if Mama slept at all. She’d taken to sitting up in the dark kitchen, smoking.
They opened presents and ate pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hot chocolate for breakfast. Then Mama set about preparing a feast for friends and family. Cora, Aunt Dinah, Cousin Porky, the lot of them tried to tell her she didn’t need to go to all the trouble this year, but Mama fired back with a fury.
“Oh yes I do. Now, do you want turkey or ham?”
Two days before New Year’s, a stranger knocked on the door. He wore a dark suit and tie, his fedora l
ow over his forehead. Mama made a fuss, inviting him in for tea and freshly baked pumpkin bread. She was so sure he had good news on Daddy. On this whole silly financial debacle.
The man obliged her, but after one sip of his tea, he delivered his purpose without any sort of preamble. “Your home was used as collateral on several loans. I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay the balance due or find yourself in foreclosure.”
The light Mama had been stoking in her soul with an unwavering belief that Daddy would return home any day snuffed out as the man’s words still lingered in the air.
Her countenance became stony and cold.
And now, as the thundersnow fell over Heart’s Bend, Cora and Mama lived on the third floor of the shop. In a quarter of the space they’d once had. But having lost everything but their clothes, beds, and Mama’s dining room table, the apartment was a godsend.
“Cora, what are you doing?” Mama’s voice sounded from the other side of the small bedroom. “You’ll freeze us to death.”
“Looking at the snow. It’s beautiful.” Another crack of lightning shed a ghostly light across the surface of the trees, haloing the minuscule drops floating in the air.
Mama’s hand slipped over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s beautiful. But it’s also cold.” She slammed the window shut. “Now, get back in bed.” She padded across the cold floor to her bed.
Gone was Mama’s softness, her humor, her gentility. Nothing remained but hard edges and judgment.
Cora showed her compassion. Would she have fared any better if she lost her husband, her home, her prize-winning garden, her reputation?
Mama saw her possessions sold at auction to the highest bidder. Cora feared she’d lose her mind that day. While the feds had foreclosed on dozens of families in the area, Mama was not comforted to be in their company.
“Mama?” Cora returned to her bed, tucking her feet under the cool sheets.
“What?”
“Don’t you wonder if he’s okay?”
“No. He’s a coward. Like no other. What kind of man abandons his family over money three times?”
“Money is how Daddy measures his success.”
