Chapter 2
I knew that voice. Recollection tickled the edge of my brain. I forgot about Daisy Duke and walked toward the door. It took a second, and then it came to me. Josephine Sandoval. She’d been a year behind me in elementary school and had spent second grade following me around telling me that she wished she could be part of the Cassidy family. “Josie?”
She stepped inside and I could see that she was nodding, but before I could get a look at the woman Josie’d grown to be, two more women elbowed their way in behind her, shoving her forward. Her feet tangled and she lost her balance, crashing into me.
My arms flew up to block the impact, but she kept coming. I felt resistance as the needle I was still holding plunged into her arm.
She screeched. “Ow!”
“Oh! Oh!” I pried her grip from my arm, pushed her off of me, and pulled the tip of the needle out of her flesh. Her hand flew up and a cluster of beaded bracelets slid down her arm as her fingertips pressed against the microscopic wound.
A cacophony of high-pitched voices came all at once. “Are you all right?” one of the women asked, her voice rising above the others. They’d surrounded us like clucking hens.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, backing away from me. “Are you okay, Harlow?”
I looked around for a place to ditch the needle. There was a puffy pink pincushion on top of the antique secretary desk just outside the workroom. I didn’t remember setting it there, but I quickly stabbed my needle into it and turned back to the women. “I’m okay.” I squinted at the bubble of blood on Josie’s arm. “Do you need a bandage?”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.” Her face broke into a toothy smile. “I can’t believe it’s really true. I told Loretta Mae how great it would be if you came back. We talked about it just before she passed.” She paused, quickly crossing herself, from forehead to breastbone, left shoulder to right. “God rest her soul.” She hurried on. “She came into Seed-n-Bead—that’s where I work—and I told her I wished you would come back to Bliss. And do you know what she told me? She said, “Josie, honey, don’t fret. Harlow’s on her way back.”
I stared. “Really? She said that?”
“Exactly that,” Josie confirmed. “I’m not surprised she was right. She was always right.”
More proof that Loretta Mae Cassidy really did have the gift of foresight and knew what would happen long before it ever did.
I’d listened intently to Josie’s rapid narrative, all the while taking a better look at her. She was a little shorter than my five feet seven inches. Her coffee-colored hair hit just past her shoulders. She had full cheeks and was rounder than I remembered, and also prettier. She was very Jennifer Lopez, all womanly curves, and those curves were in all the right places.
The other two women looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place them. “This is Karen,” Josie said, gesturing to the shorter woman on her right, “and this is Ruthann.” Ruthann unwound the Grace Kelly scarf she had draped over her head and tucked it into her purse. She was tall, probably five feet eleven inches. Perfect bone structure and not an ounce of fat on her body. She could have made it as a model if she’d been twelve instead of thirtysomething. Karen, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Five-five, round, but without the perfect curves that Josie was blessed with, and flyaway hair that hadn’t been protected from the wind.
I kept my hair in two ponytails just below my ears most of the time so I didn’t have to fuss with it. Like all the Cassidy women, I had thick chestnut ringlets with distinct streaks of blond woven throughout, one quite prominent strip right in front, like the stripe of a skunk. Not even a sophisticated Jackie O or Princess Grace scarf would keep it tamed.
“Nice to meet you—”
“We went to school together,” Karen said with a little laugh. “Karen Lowe. Now Mitchell. Guess I wasn’t too memorable.”
Like all Cassidy women, I’d kept to myself in high school to stay under the radar, not that I had anything to hide or a secret to protect. I smiled as big as I could, waving away her comment. “Karen Lowe! Of course. It’s been a long time.” Almost fourteen years, to be exact. I’d left for college when I was almost twenty.
We chatted for a few minutes before Ruthann, who was perched on the edge of the settee and looked like she belonged in the swanky Preston Hollow neighborhood of Dallas, asked, “What brought you back here?”
I spread my arms wide. “Seems my great-grandmother deeded the house to me on the day I was born. I’ve owned this place all my life and I never knew it.”
“Your mother didn’t want to move in instead? So you could stay in New York?” Ruthann, with her perfectly coiffed hair and neat-as-a-pin summer dress, asked the question so innocently. Little did she know that life in New York was no picnic.
“No.” I shook my head, remembering the conversation I’d had with my mother. “Harlow Jane,” she’d said to me over the phone when I’d asked her that very question, “when you were born, Meemaw took one look at your face and she said she could see your whole life laid out. She put your name on the deed that very day. She said that that old house was your future. ‘She might not understand it at first, Tessa Cassidy,’ she told me, ‘but one day she will.’ ”
“So you quit your job in New York and moved back here, huh?” The voice came from behind me.
“Nell!” Josie jumped up as the Daisy Duke look-alike joined the group around the coffee table. “You’re here!” She turned to me. “So you’ve met?”
Daisy, who I now knew was Nell, had practically disappeared into the rack of clothes and I’d forgotten all about her. “Not officially,” I said, and I thought to myself what a misfit group of friends Josie had.
“Nell Gellen, Harlow Cassidy,” Josie said. We nodded at each other, and Josie went on. “Nell owns Seed-n-Bead.”
I had to force my mouth not to drop open in surprise. This really did not compute. Josie, with her full white skirt and springlike yellow top, looked crisp and together. She looked like a store owner. Nell, on the other hand, looked like she’d ridden into town on the back of a hay truck. “I love beads,” I said, trying to remember that things are not always as they seem.
Sitting back on the paisley couch, I crossed my legs. Hopefully they had some dressmaking need I could fulfill. “So, what can I do for you ladies?” I asked when the chattering had died down.
I might as well have opened the floodgates of a dam. They all began talking at once, each voice straining to be the loudest. My head jerked from one moving mouth to the next, trying to figure out which one I should be listening to.
A shrill whistle broke through the noise. Josie was next to me on the couch and had her thumb and index finger in her mouth. She let out another high-pitched sound. “Shut it!” she shouted and, amazingly, they did. “Harlow,” she said turning to face me.
I leaned forward. “Yes?”
“I’m getting married.”
From the way she’d blurted the news to the way her frenzied hands twisted around each other as she spoke, I didn’t know whether to congratulate her or say I was sorry.
But Karen laughed, clapping her hands, and I noticed the nondescript wedding band on her left hand. Mitchell, I mused. I couldn’t remember any Mitchells from school. I felt disconnected from my hometown. “So exciting!” she said.
Nell nodded. She’d tucked one heeled foot up under her on the love seat and her lips curved into a pleased, if subdued, little smile. Ruthann sat primly on the settee. Her ring finger was bare, but her smile looked genuine. As different as they were, they all seemed happy for Josie.
A little thrill went through me. A wedding! The idea of catering to brides hadn’t occurred to me, but now the possibility circled in my head. Vera Wang hadn’t started making wedding gowns until she was thirty-nine! I was only thirty-three. And I didn’t need or want Vera’s level of success. I’d be happy making a comfortable living doing what I loved to do. If I made a small, or maybe medium, mark on the fashion
world, that would be the gravy on my biscuits.
Maybe Josie had some sort of family heirloom dress she needed altered. Or maybe it was just a small job. Sleeves she wanted removed or a train shortened. It didn’t matter. Even a small job was better than no job. My foot started tapping on the floor. There were so many possibilities.
“Congratulations,” I said calmly. I didn’t want to scare them off with my eagerness. “When’s the big day?”
“Assuming he doesn’t break her heart, you mean,” Nell said under her breath.
My chin snapped up and I met her steady gaze. Josie, Ruthann, and Karen didn’t look like they’d heard her, but I had. It was as though she’d whispered the words right into my ear. But she went on, casually resting one arm across the back of the love seat and the other on the armrest, and I wondered if I’d imagined it. After all, why would a man break his fiancée’s heart?
“It’s on the twenty-fourth . . . a little less than two weeks away,” Josie deadpanned, and just like that, all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room.
“Less than two weeks?” I repeated when I’d found my voice again.
Josie nodded, frowning. “Have you heard of the Bridal Outlet?”
Her friends, as if on cue, all groaned.
The Bridal Outlet. It didn’t ring a bell. “No,” I said.
“Hate that place,” Karen said, her freckled forehead crinkling.
Ruthann grimaced. “Highway robbery.”
Nell had turned her attention to the knot on her blouse. She’d undone it, and was rolling up the excess fabric, tying it again. “Lying lowlifes,” she muttered.
“It’s a bridal shop in Fort Worth—”
“Was,” Nell corrected, her eyes still cast downward.
“Right,” Josie said. “Was.”
I put one and one together and deduced that the Bridal Outlet had done a number on Josie. “Let me guess. It went out of business?”
Josie stared. “How’d you know?”
“Just a hunch,” I said, not telling her that it was far more common than people realized. Small businesses started up and failed in less time than it took to stock up on supplies at the nearest warehouse store. Bridal shops were particularly vulnerable since the bridal industry was seasonal.
Karen snapped her fingers. “It happened just like that. One day they were there, and the next day they were gone. It’s so unfair.”
So Josie probably needed me to finish up the alterations on her wedding gown. A small job, after all.
“I’m getting married in twelve days,” Josie said, her voice rising to near hysteria, “and I don’t have a dress!”
My thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What do you mean you don’t have a dress?”
“No bridal gown, no bridesmaid dresses, no nothing!” Josie clutched at the arm of the sofa. She breathed in and out through her nose. “See?” she said when she’d calmed down. “It’s like I jinxed myself when I told Loretta Mae about the wedding and said I wished you were here, but now you are here, so it’ll all be okay.” She winked. “Not that I ever should have doubted Loretta Mae. You can do it, right?”
They all stared expectantly at me. It felt like we were playing connect the dots, it was my turn, and a number was missing from the picture. I leaned forward. “Do what?”
Josie grabbed my hand and angled her head toward her bridesmaids. “Make our dresses,” she said. “I’ve been all over tarnation and there isn’t a single gown that’ll work. It all has to be just perfect.” She took my hand in hers and met my eyes. “You know,” she added, “I’m marrying Nate Kincaid. Of the Hood County Kincaids?”
A lightbulb went off in my head. “Ah,” I said. And suddenly I understood perfectly.
Chapter 3
I never would have put Nate Kincaid and Josie Sandoval together as a couple. The Kincaids of Hood County were one of the oldest families in Bliss and Josie was from the wrong side of the tracks, an unfortunate fact I could relate to. I’d dated Derek Kincaid, Nate’s older brother. The breakup had been ugly.
“Show her the ring,” Ruthann said, nudging Josie’s arm.
Josie’s rosy cheeks brightened. She held her arm out, dangling her hand.
It was a platinum band with a single princess-cut diamond. Light seemed to bounce up through the cut, highlighting its brilliance. “It’s perfect.”
“Isn’t it?” Karen gazed at it from over Josie’s shoulder. “It was Nate’s grandmother’s.”
“So much better than the first one,” Nell said.
“The first one?”
Josie’s blush deepened. “Nate was trying to impress me.”
Nell tilted her head to the side. “He got this amazing diamond and had a ring made for her. Spectacular. Huge radiant-cut rock and a bunch of little diamonds in a channel setting. That ring was gorgeous—”
“But Josie didn’t like it,” Karen said, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “That diamond . . . What was it, like three carats?”
Josie looked like she wanted to disappear. “It wasn’t me. I’m not all highbrow—”
“You’re just a small-town girl,” Ruthann said with a laugh. “You sure you should marry a Kincaid?”
“Very funny,” Josie said. “Of course I’m sure. Nate totally understood. His dad took it back and said not to worry.”
“This one is absolutely you,” Ruthann finished, holding up Josie’s left hand. The ring was simple, but brilliant and sparkling. Size, it turned out, didn’t matter.
The next hour passed in a blur. Three women who were out for a stroll around the town square and had heard about Buttons & Bows blew into the shop. I excused myself from Josie and her entourage to answer a slew of questions from them. How would you describe your style? What actresses have you designed dresses for? Have you had a dress on the red carpet at the Oscars?
I answered as best I could, listening to each group with one ear until Lori Kincaid, Josie’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, waltzed in, another woman by her side. She turned and waved out the door, a signal to her driver that she’d be a little while, no doubt. Then she put her arm through Josie’s. They chatted quietly, and I heard her say, “Are you sure about this?”
Josie’s expression clouded. “Of course I’m sure. Harlow’s all set—”
“There’s a bridal show in Fort Worth this weekend,” Mrs. Kincaid said, interrupting her. “It might be fun to go, don’t you think? And you might find something you adore.” She turned to the bridesmaids. “Nell, dear, are you available Saturday?”
Nell stared, lips parted. She seemed at a loss for words, but finally found her voice. “Um, no. Sorry. I have plans on Saturday.”
Mrs. Kincaid gave an encouraging smile. “But we can make a day of it,” she nudged. “We could have lunch at Reata in Sundance Square. Karen, Ruthann, have you been there?”
Ruthann piped up. “I have.”
“Not me,” Karen said, “but my husband’s been plenty of times for work. He loves it.”
“Nell?” Mrs. Kincaid asked.
Nell had started riffling through the rack of ready-to-wear separates. “Don’t think so,” she said over her shoulder. “Mrs. Abernathy, what do you think of this?” she called to Mrs. Kincaid’s friend.
The woman wrinkled her nose. “Pardon me?” she said, as if she could hardly stand to utter two words to Nell.
Nell held out a dress I’d created using Escher as inspiration. It was an architectural design with an optical illusion effect. Black and white and a definite mixed bag of textiles and textures.
Mrs. Abernathy coughed, scoffed, and turned her back on Nell.
“Really, Nell,” Mrs. Kincaid scolded. She looked her up and down and frowned. “It takes time and effort to maintain an image. It’s like a house of cards. One bent corner, and the whole thing comes toppling down. Helen Abernathy is not going to throw away her reputation by wearing a dress like that.”
Nell’s nostrils flared like a bull facing a matador, but Josie stepp
ed in before anybody charged. “We can go to lunch at Reata sometime, Lori,” she said hurriedly, “but there just isn’t time before the wedding. Harlow will need us all around for fittings—”
“Fine.” Lori Kincaid’s expression turned to stone. With a stiff spine, she glided over to study the pictures on the display wall. I’d used a rectangular sheet of galvanized steel and trimmed it with a length of spectacular black beaded cording I’d found in Meemaw’s collection. Photographs of models wearing my designs, or ones I’d worked on, were held in place on the wall by tiny magnetic dots.
Mrs. Kincaid seemed to be taking in every last detail of my work, from my construction and technique to my creative flair, comparing it all to whatever high-priced Dallas designer she favored. I suddenly realized she needed to give her blessing before I could go forward with the dresses.
She turned to me a moment later, smiling. “These are quite lovely.”
I released the breath I’d been holding and a wave of surprise flowed through me. Blessing given. And not a speck of worry on her face over some imaginary curse I might put on her. Maybe rumors about the Cassidy women had finally stopped. “Thank you.”
A happy feeling settled over the shop as another handful of women—more of Josie’s friends, her mother, and another woman I took to be an aunt or a family friend—popped into the shop. I explained to my captive audience that no, I’d never had one of my designs worn to the Oscars, and no, I had no plans to go on Project Runway, but yes, to see Heidi Klum in one of my designs would be like a dream come true.
The front door opened again, the faint jingling of the bells making me wonder what the fire code for occupancy was. The room suddenly went completely silent. I followed the gazes of the fifteen or so people in the shop, stopping for a second when I thought I recognized Miriam Kincaid, Josie’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. A squeal broke the silence; then a blur passed in front of me, pulling my attention away from the crowd that had gathered. It was Josie racing toward the man now leaning in at the door. He hesitated, as if he was afraid of actually setting foot inside such a girlie shop, but she threw her arms around him and practically dragged him across the threshold.
Pleating for Mercy Page 2
