The Hope Dress

by Roz Denny Fox

Joel, who’d dropped his hand to Rianne’s shoulder to hold her wiggling to a minimum, felt his fingers tighten. “We do fine on most fronts. I’m a little deficient, I admit, in tying hair ribbons, but basically, we’re thriving.”

  Freda tsked. “There’s so much more to raising girls as they mature, you know. If I may be so bold...I don’t think you should wait much longer before finding her a stepmother to direct her along the proper path.” Freda paused, apparently to let her advice sink in, then said quite matter-of-factly, as if she was Joel’s best friend, “Are you aware that the perfect candidate lives right next door? It’s a shame you got off on the wrong foot with Sylvie Shea. Such a dear. A finer family than hers doesn’t exist.”

  Floored at the temerity of a virtual stranger, Joel groped for a suitable response, but came up empty.

  His daughter had no such problem. “What’s she mean, Daddy? Shouldn’t you tell her we like Sylvie a whole bunch?”

  Leaning backward to see the matronly woman, Rianne said again, and more loudly, “Sylvie’s wonderful. She let me help her bake cookies for her Sunday school. We cut my Barbie out a dress. And Sylvie’s making me one ’xactly like it as soon as she finds a pattern. Yesterday when Daddy fell in the lake, Sylvie pulled him out and brought him back to life.”

  Joel considered clapping a hand over Rianne’s mouth, then decided that would only make matters worse. Maybe if he ignored the entire outburst, the woman, Freda, might move along. But no such luck. She ran a speculative eye over Joel.

  “Really?” The librarian sidestepped her way to the end of the pew. Moments ahead of merging with the other guests flocking down the aisle, she thumped Joel on the arm with a hand still clasping the hankie she’d used to dab her eyes during the ceremony. “Finally! Maybe now Sylvie can bring out that secret wedding dress she dragged home from New York. Nothing would make Nan and Rob happier.” Thankfully, the librarian’s bulk was swept toward the exit with the press of jovial guests.

  Joel sagged with relief. What secret dress? And who are Nan and Rob? Someone else had mentioned Nan. Joel couldn’t recall who or when, he was so rattled. Plainly, people in Briarwood weren’t familiar with the term privacy. As a result of his hanging back, he and Rianne missed their turn to join the exodus. For a minute they seemed to be stuck in the pew, awash in the battling scents of perfumes and colognes passing them by. He spotted an opening in front of a senior couple plodding slowly along. Joel shoved Rianne into the stream of traffic.

  The next thing he knew, they’d emerged in the much fresher air of a balmy Southern night. Joel considered going straight home. But that wasn’t to be. Men and women began to stop and strike up conversations. Most now knew Joel by name. He was frequently slapped on the back and shook hands until his fingers felt numb. Rianne, he noticed, reveled in the attention. Belatedly, Joel figured out that they were being steadily herded to the next location, the Elks’ Lodge. The reception was already in full swing by the sound of it.

  In the foyer, Joel saw people deposit gifts on three long tables already laden with wrapped packages. He pulled Rianne out of the shuffle. “I left our gift in the car. Either we’ll have to walk back for it and hike up here again, or if you’re okay with skipping this part, we can stop by on the drive home and I’ll run in with our gift.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Dory Hopewell said from behind him. “Why drag Rianne all that way?” The woman bent to the child’s eye level and said, “We haven’t met. I’m Sylvie’s middle sister, Dory. My daughter, Kendra’s, just inside with her father and brother. How would you like to come along with me and meet her? I’ll get you girls some punch. Your dad can come round and find us as soon as he returns.”

  She straightened, saying for Joel’s benefit, “If you’d like to drive and save the hike uphill, there ought to be parking spaces at the rear of this building.”

  “Can I stay, Daddy? Sylvie showed me Kendra’s picture. Next week she’s gonna be five like me.” Rianne giggled. “’Cept the week after that, I’ll be six, and we won’t be the same age again for ’nother year. Sylvie figured that out.”

  “I don’t think I can let you stay, Rianne. Anyway, our van’s not far.” To Dory, he said, “I’m not in the habit of turning my daughter over to strangers.”

  Dory batted a hand through the air. “That probably makes perfect sense where you used to live. In Briarwood, there’s no such thing as a stranger. Look, here’s Kendra now. And the Martin twins. They’ll be in Rianne’s first-grade class. I don’t envy their teacher, but let’s see if I can tell them apart to introduce them.” Dory pointed a finger at a gap-toothed pigtailed girl. “Nikki. And Nola.” Her daughter and the twins dissolved in laughter and promptly corrected Dory’s mistake.

  Joel noticed the twins had old-fashioned manners, in that they called Dory Mrs. Hopewell. She seemed not the least put out, and hugged all three. Her easy manner with the kids, and their obvious acceptance of her, went a long way toward persuading Joel to give in.

  As his original intent in coming here was so Rianne could make some friends, he capitulated—to Rianne’s obvious delight, and also the delight of her newest best friends. “Okay, but listen up. We’re not staying long,” he counseled both the excited kids and Dory Hopewell.

  She patted his arm in a familiar manner. Did everyone in this town assume that if you lived here, you were instantly bosom buddies? “Go retrieve your gift, Joel, but hurry back. You won’t be half so grouchy once you’re inside and get swept up in the party atmosphere. The band Dave and Kay booked for the evening is the best in the area. There’ll be tons of food, a moderate amount of spirits and good company all around.” Winking, she added, “Failing that, you can slink off into a corner and natter on about sports with my husband and brother-in-law, who are past masters at avoiding the dance floor.”

  Her engaging grin was so like Sylvie’s, it got under Joel’s skin. “Okay, okay. Rianne, you stick with Dory and the kids until I get back. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Yippee!” the twins shouted at the top of their lungs. “Come on, Rianne, we’ll show you the table with the pink punch for kids.”

  Joel watched his daughter dart off. She didn’t bother to say goodbye. That upset him. Maybe she was already growing up, as Freda, back at the church, had suggested. Maybe he was already losing his influence.

  “Is something else bothering you?” Dory asked. “I promise to keep a good eye on her. Really, I swear she’ll be fine.”

  “I know. It’s just...earlier tonight someone remarked how quickly kids begin to spread their wings. I believe this may be my first experience. Now I’m wondering if standing aside is going to be even harder than I suspected.”

  It was obvious from her expression that Dory Hopewell understood and empathized with Joel. “It helps to have a partner to share half the burden of raising kids.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes that part of life doesn’t work out.” Joel backed toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said a little more curtly.

  “Now I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth when I didn’t mean to. What you said made me stop to think I should march straight inside and hug Grant for all the times he gives me a break from the kids. No one said being a parent is easy.”

  Joel inclined his chin briefly, but he shot out of the Elks’ Lodge like a man possessed. He’d almost reached his van when he acknowledged that he’d probably said too much back there. Telling himself it was too late for regrets over Lynn, he backed the car out of the lot and parked it behind the lodge. Hauling out the gift, a bowl Carline Manchester had wrapped the day he and Rianne had shopped in town, Joel set it on an already full table.

  In the main room, the hub of festivities, the lights at one end had been turned low. A multicolored spotlight revolved, raining speckles of light on the heads and shoulders of dancers. More guests sat at long tables covered with pink cloths on the opposite end of the room. Most were partaking of the generous buffet. Some stood in groups, talking. It was at a table near
the food that Joel spotted Rianne in the middle of six or more kids.

  He worked his way over to her. “I’m back, snooks,” he said.

  “Daddy, hi. This is Holly and her sister, Ashleigh. Holly’s going into first grade, too. Ashleigh will be in third grade,” Rianne said with no small amount of respect. “You already met Kendra and the twins. This is Kendra’s brother, Roy.”

  Joel bobbed his head and mumbled that he was pleased to meet the other children. He scanned the area for an empty chair. The three end tables were nothing but a sea of children. The noise made it difficult to hear what anyone was saying. He dropped to one knee to speak directly in Rianne’s ear. “I’m going to grab a plate of food and something to drink, then I’ll stand right over in that corner. Ask the girls what supplies we need to buy before the first day of school, okay? When we both finish eating, we need to head home.”

  “Daddy, we can’t go before Kay and David cut the cake. Ashleigh said kids get plain toast.”

  Joel frowned until a melodic voice he recognized, and which always sent shivers up the back of his neck, spoke somewhere above his head. “She’s talking about the champagne toast,” Sylvie explained with a grin. “I’m handing out glasses now. Adults get champagne—kids get sparkling juice.”

  Surging to his feet, Joel almost knocked the box out of her hands. The empty glasses rattled ominously. He grabbed for it, but wrapped both hands around the teetering woman. The bare skin of Sylvie’s upper arms felt soft and warm, and he soaked up the pleasing sensations, not sure he wanted to let her go. “Here, let me help with that,” he said gruffly. “I’ll carry the box. You hand out glasses.”

  She pulled away. “Are you kidding? Imagine what people would say. Why did you come, Joel? And why did Dory make a point of telling me she was looking after Rianne while you ran back to the car after a gift? Oh, and at the church I saw you talking to Freda Poulson, our town crier. I don’t have a clue what you two said, but she’s practically got us picking out an engagement ring.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” he protested. “It was Rianne. You know how kids are.”

  “Well, you don’t know how the women of this town are,” Sylvie exclaimed in an irritated voice. “Oh, no,” she cried partially under her breath. “I’ve gotta dash. My mom and dad are headed this way. Be careful what you say,” she hissed, and shoved a glass into his hand. She swiftly set plastic cups in front of all the kids, then made tracks out of that aisle.

  Joel considered following her. But a beanpole in a tuxedo suddenly blocked his path. “Do you know where Sylvie Shea got off to? I’m Buddy, her so-called date. Someone just saw her talking to you.”

  “She’s distributing champagne glasses for the toast.” Joel waggled his. He was interested in meeting one of apparently several men who dated his neighbor. The two Joel had seen both drove hot cars, although the Lamborghini definitely topped the Mercedes. While Joel hated to judge, this guy was nowhere near as cool as his car. And Buddy? Only Bubba could be a worse name.

  “I’m Sylvie’s neighbor,” Joel said, when the other man didn’t rush right off in search of his date. “Gotta say I envy a guy with a car like yours.”

  “A birthday present from my father. Oh, I could’ve bought it myself. I’m a successful stockbroker.” Pulling out a handful of business cards, Buddy peeled one off and dropped it in Joel’s glass. “Who handles your investments? I can probably double your money.” For several minutes, he tossed around facts and figures, all in a monotone.

  Joel wondered what Sylvie saw in this dud. “Uh, are you friends with the bride or the groom?” Joel asked as he nibbled on food from the buffet.

  “Neither. But I’ve known them both all my life. I’m home because tomorrow is Mother’s birthday. Tonight my parents are busy with clients, so Mother and Carline fixed me up with Sylvie. I thought she’d help me make some valuable business contacts. But she’s too busy micromanaging everything at the wedding,” he said petulantly. “Just between us...it wouldn’t work anyway. Sylvie hasn’t invested one cent in blue-chip stocks.” Buddy’s eyes, which never met Joel’s at any time, locked on something over his shoulder. “Oh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Shea. If you’re looking for Sylvie, too, she’s not here. It seems she’s now in charge of the toast—as well as the bouquets, dresses and catering staff. I wish Carline had been straight about this. My mother expected Sylvie to help me get a foot in the door with her friends. My evening would’ve been better spent at home checking the Nikkei.”

  “That’s too bad, Buddy. Carline probably had no idea that was your goal. I think she assumed you were attending Kay’s wedding because otherwise you would’ve been alone. Rob and I are well aware of the many tasks Sylvie assumes as wedding coordinator.” The woman’s gaze moved from Buddy to Joel. She extended a tanned hand toward him. “I’m Nan Shea. This is my husband, Rob.” Her gracious smile encompassed both men. “We really came over to introduce ourselves to Joel Mercer, Buddy. He’s Sylvie’s new neighbor.” Adroitly Nan switched gears. She withdrew her hand from Joel’s and touched Buddy’s sleeve. “Since you have important things to do at home, I’m sure it wouldn’t be any imposition to ask Joel if he’ll give Sylvie a lift home after the party.”

  Both men stammered, but Buddy recovered first. “I, ah, don’t know what Mother would say. You know what a stickler she is for propriety.”

  “I certainly do. But if she could see how busy Sylvie is, and how that leaves you twiddling your thumbs, I’m positive she’d agree.”

  Buddy dallied only a moment longer. “I really need to follow up on today’s interest hike. Mrs. Shea, maybe you won’t mind seeing that all the guests get one of these.” Buddy shoved the fat wad of business cards into her hand, then looking more eager than he had so far, muttered, “Please relay my apologies to Sylvie for abandoning her.”

  Speechless, Nan said nothing as she fumbled with the stack of loose cards.

  Rob Shea promised for her. After Buddy was well out of earshot, he turned to his wife. “What on earth was Carline thinking, hooking Sylvie up with that dork? His father is insufferably pompous. The son is worse.”

  “Now, Rob. I doubt Carline’s seen him since high school. She probably assumed he’d changed.”

  “Well, he was odd then, too.” Rob broke off and clapped Joel’s shoulder. “We haven’t had a chance to talk, my boy. It’ll be a while before anyone gets around to giving you any refreshment in that empty glass you’re using as a card holder. What say we find us a beer? I’ll deliver the official welcome later, when I put on my mayor’s hat. Nan, I know Kay asked you to serve cake. I’ll find you again after that ritual’s over and done with.”

  The elegant woman—who, Joel noticed, Sylvie already resembled—rose on tiptoes and kissed her husband’s cheek, all while filling his jacket pockets with Buddy Deaver’s business cards. “Should I warn Joel you’re about to twist his arm to volunteer for a job at our Labor Day Festival?”

  “If he plays baseball, I intend to recruit him to join my team. Before John Trent discovers there’s a new man in town.” To Joel, Rob added, “His stupid team beats us every year. It’d help, of course, if you can swing a bat or throw a ball.” Twinkling hazel eyes, very similar to Sylvie’s, raked Joel as if measuring him for a ball uniform.

  “I’m not a bad fielder or batter. I suppose I’m willing to join your team. Oh, Mrs. Shea, before you run off, allow me to introduce my daughter. Rianne may not be your only chocolate-chip cookie fan, but I’d lay odds she’s the most vocal. I liked them, but years ago I swore allegiance to Mary Shea’s oatmeal-raisin drops.” He raised his voice. “Rianne, honey, come meet Sylvie’s parents.”

  The girl bounced up at once. As Joel had predicted, she spoke first about Nan’s cookies and how much she loved them.

  “They go fast at my house,” Nan said. “I make a batch every week. Next time I do, I’ll phone. Perhaps your dad will run you over to sample them hot. You’re invited, too, Joel,” she said sweetly. “That’s the only fair test to see i
f you still prefer my mother-in-law’s recipe over mine.”

  Rianne piped up again. “Daddy won’t switch. He always says those oatmeal cookies are the best. But I bet he’ll drive me to your house, won’t you, Daddy? Sylvie said her dad makes furniture, and, Daddy, you said we need more to fill up your aunt Iva’s house.”

  “Our house now. And I did say that. Listen, snooks, I’m going with Mr. Shea to have a beer to go with my snack. Don’t leave this table until I come back. Okay?”

  Taking that as her exit line, Rianne dived back between her new friends.

  “What a lovely child,” Nan murmured. “Please, Joel, call us Rob and Nan. Everyone in Briarwood likes being on a first-name basis.”

  If Joel felt his feet slipping in the undertow of Nan Shea’s charming drawl and equally charming smile, he ignored the warning. Maybe because, as a kid, he’d loved the close-knit ties of Briarwood. He wanted Rianne and him to fit in and become part of it. Wanted it so badly, he forgot to suggest that Rob and Nan give their daughter a ride home, instead.

  Sylvie’s dad wrenched the caps off two ice-cold beers he pulled from a cooler, one of many lined up along the stage wall. “If we hang around next to the band,” the older man shouted, “we not only won’t be able to talk about the Labor Day Festival, we’ll probably go deaf in the process.” He motioned Joel to forge a path through the dancers.

  Joel saw that most of the bridesmaids were out on the floor. He strained to see if Sylvie was among them. When he couldn’t find her, he searched the room until he did. Their eyes met. She didn’t look happy to see him with her dad. Joel thought the you-know-what would hit the fan when she discovered her well-meaning parents had sent her date home and had, just as casually, commandeered him to drive her. It occurred to Joel that this was a perfect situation to use for his comic strip. He anticipated getting some great dialogue if he waited around for Sylvie’s reactions to the news.

  “I only ever spent a few weeks here over the summer,” Joel said when Rob located a quiet corner in the foyer. “Tell me about this festival. Be forewarned that I haven’t been here long enough to establish a list of reliable babysitters.”