The Wedding Dress

by Mary O'Donnell

  Andrew looked quizzical. “She’s your best friend—aren’t you invited to her party?” he asked.

  “Oh, no,” said Annie, “it’s not that kind of party. It’s her job—she arranges these ‘parties’ in other people’s homes to sell products—home decor … things—and jewelry. The person who has agreed to be the host invites her friends to her home. Alice displays the products, and the guests can purchase what they like out of a catalog.”

  “Doesn’t sound much like a party to me,” said Andrew.

  “It’s actually kind of fun. There’s always good food, and you get to visit with friends and meet new people. And you get to see all kinds of things that inspire you to decorate or try a new style.”

  Andrew still looked skeptical.

  “I guess it’s a girl thing,” said Annie.

  “I’ll take your word on that,” said Andrew. “I’ve been a traveling bachelor nearly all my adult life. I have two sisters, and quite a few nieces, but I don’t really see them, or any of my extended family for that matter, except at Christmastime—I usually try to make it home then. I’m the youngest of a large family, and most of my brothers and sisters still live close to where we grew up in Washington state. I don’t get back there as often as I’d like to. It’s not a situation that I desire; it’s just a byproduct of the life I’ve chosen.”

  “So, have you never considered getting married?” asked Annie. Almost immediately, Annie realized she’d crossed over the line and before he even had a chance to answer, she said, “Andrew, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ask something so personal. We hardly know each other. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s OK, Annie,” said Andrew, smiling. “I’m not offended. When I met you and Ian at the restaurant, I could tell right away that you are a sympathetic person. I know you’re not asking just to gather gossip. The way you treat other people shows that you really care about them. I think that’s probably one of the reasons that Ian is so taken with you.”

  Annie blushed. “We’re really just friends. I don’t know why people keep saying that.”

  Andrew looked at her sideways, “Oh, come on, Annie, I think you do know. I’ve seen how you look at him, and how he looks at you. I don’t know much about your situation, but if there’s something holding you back, try not to let it hold you back too long. Love doesn’t wait forever.”

  “Doesn’t it? You sound like you know something about that,” said Annie.

  Andrew looked down. “I was in love once. It was a long time ago.” He picked up his mug and took a long drink of tea as if it were something stronger. “I know that she loved me too, but I had this ‘brilliant idea’ that I was going to travel all over the United States and do something important with my paintings.”

  “And you have done something important,” said Annie.

  “Thanks, Annie. … Sometimes, when I remember her, I wonder if I did the right thing by breaking it off,” said Andrew. “That said, I must admit that most of the time, I still feel the same rush that I felt when I first began this project. I love all the aspects of my work—the research and the painting. I guess even then I must have loved it more than I loved her. I said goodbye and never really looked back.” He paused and then said, “I hope I don’t come across as heartless as that sounds, but I knew that it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to adapt to my way of life. She loved her home too much.”

  “You never saw her again?” asked Annie.

  Andrew hesitated, as if remembering something that he considered telling Annie, but then changed his mind. “No. I didn’t see her again. About twenty years ago, or really, more than that now, I … I learned that she married. And then, just a few years ago I read that she had died,” said Andrew quietly. Though he was looking down at the table, Annie could see the sadness in his body language as he continued, “I made my choice, and I know it was the right one for both of us. There’s no changing the past.”

  There it was again. Another person, like her, who had to come to grips with choices made, that couldn’t be altered now. She thought about how soul-searching was something everyone has to do at some point, and it isn’t always easy, especially when it’s no longer possible to make restitution for a hurt inflicted, or apologize for a mistake made. That is, if it was a mistake that Andrew had made. Perhaps it really was the best thing for both of them. Who knows where choices will lead at the beginning of life’s road? Not mere humans.

  Annie patted his hand. “Maybe it would be good if we continue on our tour of Grey Gables.”

  Andrew looked at Annie. “You know, you really are someone special. I haven’t talked with anyone about Cara in years. It’s good to remember, as much as it may hurt.” He stood up. “Yes, let’s see the rest of your great old house.”

  Annie showed Andrew around the rest of the downstairs, and he took the same interest in all the architectural details that made Grey Gables as special on the inside as it was on the outside. Annie could tell he was mentally making notes on all the things he would sketch later. It seemed that he had forgotten their conversation and was now completely engrossed in what he was seeing. He really did love his chosen profession.

  Upstairs, Annie opened the doors to all the bedrooms, explaining that the room with the bright pink dresser had been hers when she visited in the summers. She told Andrew how she had pleaded with Gram and had finally convinced her to let her paint it. What fun she and Alice had had picking out that particular color. It didn’t suit her tastes now, but she didn’t want to change it. Just seeing it made her smile.

  Her mother’s old bedroom still had the same wallpaper from the time of her mother’s youth. It was a tiny rose pattern on a cream-color background and unfortunately showed its age. Annie knew that at some point she would need to replace the wallpaper. She hoped it came off the walls easier than the kitchen wallpaper had. She also hoped that she could find a pattern that was very similar. It always made her think of her mother, who had loved roses.

  “Be sure to check out the view from the windows in the master bedroom,” Annie told Andrew. “The architect placed the house to the best advantage for glorious views all around, but I think that one is the very best. It has a splendid view of the ocean.”

  Andrew seemed to take in every detail—the shapes of the rooms, the positions of the windows and doors, and the woodwork, which was all original to the house. He looked through every window to see the views that each room afforded. After spending several minutes looking at the ocean through the windows in the bedroom that had been Annie’s grandparents’ room, Andrew turned his attention to the visitor’s bedroom.

  Annie said, “This is Dervla’s bedroom for the time being, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you have a look.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” said Andrew, “why is Dervla staying here and not with her future in-laws?”

  Annie didn’t want to say too much about the situation, so she tried to keep it brief. “Umm … there were space considerations, and I have lots of room here, so I offered to let her stay at Grey Gables.” It was the truth. Of course, it wasn’t the whole truth, but Andrew didn’t really need to know that Gwen was anxious to find pretty much any place for Dervla that didn’t include her staying at Wedgewood.

  “What makes me think there’s more to it than you’re saying?” asked Andrew.

  “Isn’t there always?” Annie admitted. “The engagement was … a bit of a surprise to Tony’s parents. … They’re good people. Gwen’s a close friend of mine. … But Tony just met Dervla in Ireland a few weeks ago. I don’t think that the Palmers are quite prepared to accept her, as of yet. Though, to be fair, Tony’s sister Meredith and her husband have been very welcoming.”

  Andrew actually looked grim. “I can’t say I was all that impressed with Tony Palmer. I know I only met them both once, but I hope he’s good enough for her.”

  It seemed an odd thing for a relative stranger to say, but Annie let it pass. Andrew walked into Dervla’s room and looked around, taking
in the layout of the room and two of its contents in particular—the dress on the mannequin and the hatbox, which was sitting on the dresser.

  When Annie first saw the dress, her inclination was to draw closer to see the details, and it was only after she had taken a closer look at the crocheted parts of the dress that she then stepped back for a more complete view. Andrew did just the opposite. He didn’t go up close to the dress, but stood back a few paces, trying to get a sense of the impact of the whole thing.

  While he was looking at the dress, Annie noticed a photograph Dervla had put on the nightstand next to her bed. At first she thought it was a picture of Dervla embracing another man, but when she looked closer she could see that it wasn’t Dervla at all, though the woman could have passed for her double. The style of clothing that the couple wore indicated that the picture was not recent. She wondered if these were Dervla’s parents.

  She was drawn away from her speculation when Andrew asked, “I believe you told me earlier that you thought that the wedding dress is an antique … do you have any idea how old it might be?”

  “It may be from the turn of the previous century. It’s kind of hard to say. An older friend of mine, Stella Brickson, suggested that the dress and the hatbox might be some of the things that remained in the house after my parents bought it after the death of Captain Grey.”

  Andrew looked over at Annie. “Why does she say that?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe because of the description I gave the ladies at the Hook and Needle Club. From that, she might have thought it sounded like it was from his era. I don’t know. I thought at the time that it seemed strange for her to make a guess like that. Another thing that’s strange—Alice says she remembers the mannequin from when we were teenagers, but there was no dress on it then, and neither of us remembers seeing the hatbox before. My grandmother was a great one to encourage women to put forth their needlework skills. She always felt that the womanly art of adding value and beauty to the home was underappreciated. It seems odd that she would hide something like this—that is such a fine example of talent—away in the attic. There are so many things that don’t add up.”

  Andrew went to stand in front of the dresser, studying the painting of the flowers on the hatbox. Annie walked over to stand next to him.

  “Of course, this is the hatbox I found in the attic. The gloves and veil are in it. Both Dervla and I thought the painting is lovely, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, it is very nicely done,” said Andrew.

  “We … actually, I should say, Dervla found some letters hidden in the painting—there on the ribbon—you can just barely make them out—P.R.G. We thought perhaps that if the dress was from Captain Grey’s belongings that had been left at Grey Gables, that the box might have been painted by a relative—P.R. Grey. Have you come across anyone with those initials in your research?”

  Annie was looking at the box, and when Andrew didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He was staring at the box, and for the second time that day, his face had gone pale, though this time he looked less shocked and more … she wasn’t sure … astonished?

  “Andrew—what is it? Are you OK?”

  Andrew seemed to regain himself. “It’s … it’s nothing, Annie. I mean, I’m fine. I …I’ll have to check about those initials and get back to you.” Looking around the room he said, “You know, I am feeling rather tired. Guess I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I’ve been working in the studio late into the night. Maybe I should head back to the hotel.”

  “Of course,” said Annie. “I’m home most days, and anytime I’m here, you’re welcome to come and work on your sketches. Just give me a call. And if I’m not at home, feel free to come and sketch the exterior whenever you like.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Annie. I’d like to sketch Grey Gables from all sides, before I decide on the angle to use for the main portrait,” said Andrew.

  In the upstairs hallway, seeing the door that led to the attic reminded Annie to ask, “Oh! Did you want to see the attic? I’m afraid it’s a mess. It’s so full of things that my grandmother saved, that it’s taking me a long time to get it organized. I’ve begun to wonder if I’ll ever finish.”

  Andrew laughed softly, “I would like to see it, but if you don’t mind, let’s wait until next time. And don’t worry about the mess; that just makes it more interesting.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it,” agreed Annie, smiling. “I am no longer going to call the attic ‘a mess’; from here on out, it is my ‘interesting attic.’ That sounds much better!”

  While Andrew gathered his drawing materials from the library, Annie retrieved his yellow slicker, now completely dry, from the mudroom. The rain had stopped, so Andrew threw the slicker over his arm and slipped back into his boots, once again thanking Annie for her cooperation before heading back to Maplehurst Inn.

  After he left, Annie thought about the two rather odd reactions that Andrew displayed that afternoon—first, to Dervla in the wedding dress, and then to the letters that were painted on the hatbox. She knew that he was more than just surprised when Dervla appeared at the top of the stairs; he seemed to be genuinely shocked, but she couldn’t figure out why. And she was certain that the initials P.R.G. meant something to him. He had mentioned a couple of times that he had a “special interest” in Captain Grey. She wished that she had followed up and asked him why, but she wasn’t so sure that he would have told her anyway.

  10

  The next day, Tuesday, Annie had a lengthy list of things to accomplish before the Hook and Needle Club meeting. At the top of the list she had written: “Take wedding dress, veil, and gloves to cleaners on Oak Lane.” She had called Mary Beth the previous evening to get her advice about the best place to have the antique clothing cleaned. Annie had thought about trying to do it herself and tried to look up some information on the Internet, but there were so many different suggestions, she decided that she would rather not take a chance. Mary Beth assured her that Expert Cleaners on Oak Lane knew all about how to clean antique clothing without damaging it.

  Next on the list was getting the cloche and lapghan she had finished on Sunday packaged and dropped off at the post office so it could be on its way to her friend in Texas. On down the list there were various and sundry other items that didn’t look like much on paper, but always seemed to take a lot of time: fill the car with gas, stop by the bank, return library books, pick up lightbulbs at the hardware store, and then there was a short grocery list. The fortunate thing was that she didn’t need to do everything before the meeting. If she got half the list completed in the morning, she would count herself well off.

  Dervla and Tony had plans to go hiking with Meredith, Frank, and the kids. They were all going to make a day of it and had taken along a picnic lunch. Fortunately, though the storm had left some wind damage in its wake, it also left behind a more pleasant, less humid air quality. It was a perfect day for being out of doors. Armed with sunscreen, mosquito repellant, and binoculars for bird and other wildlife watching, they had come by early to pick up Dervla. Annie was glad. It was good for Dervla to be out, and it was that much more time that she and Tony could spend together with family.

  Time was what was needed, Annie thought, to help everyone to feel more comfortable with the situation. She just wished that Gwen would spend some time with Dervla. It was as if she didn’t want to get to know her. Was she afraid that she would actually like the woman who was engaged to her son? Perhaps Mary Beth’s idea to have a shower for Dervla would help inspire Gwen to be more accepting.

  As soon as Dervla had left, Annie went into action. First, she looked through her extra boxes, looking for one that would work to mail the crocheted items, and a second one that would hold the wedding dress. She found one that would work perfectly for a mailer, but she couldn’t find a box she thought she could use to safely transport the dress and the accessories. A giant shopping bag would have to do.

  After she had sealed and labe
led the package for her friend, she headed upstairs with the shopping bag to remove the wedding dress from the mannequin. Having unbuttoned and buttoned the dress twice, she was starting to feel like an expert. The lighting was much brighter that morning than it had been during the storm, so she could see the detail of the handwork.

  The quality on the exterior of the dress was apparent. She wondered about the interior. Gram had always told her that, besides the quality of the fabric, the best way to tell the quality of a garment was to check out the seams. Hand-finished seams and hems were the best, she had said.

  After she removed it from the mannequin, Annie carried the dress across the room and gently laid it out on the bed so she could examine it more closely. Though the dress was old, she didn’t think it had been made before the advent of the sewing machine. Even so, when she inspected the inside, it looked to her as if the dress was completely hand-sewn. It was lined with a lighter-weight fabric, and all of the seams she could see were flat-felled. Another thing Gram had taught her was that her crochet work should look as neat on the wrong side as it did on the right side; someone must have taught this seamstress the same thing. There were no loose threads or frayed edges, as old as it was.

  And then she saw them. Sewn to the lining along the side of the waist were not one, but two small labels. One label looked professional—the words were woven into the fabric:

  L. & M. Sarto

  Custom Dressmakers

  Charles Street, Boston

  Established 1892

  The other label was made of linen. Tiny flowers and leaves had been embroidered, vine-like, around the edges, and in the center, in the same-color pink as the crocheted flowers on the veil, was a name embroidered in an elegant script:

  Amanda McKay Grey

  Underneath the name, in the same fine embroidery, was a year: 1918.

  Annie wasn’t sure what this meant. Two labels. Obviously, the dress must have been purchased from the dressmakers named on the woven label, but what did the second label mean? Was the embroidered label just a way of identifying the owner, or did it mean that Amanda Grey was the person who crocheted the trim on the dress and the accessories that made up the wedding ensemble?