“No need for one. The whole town turns out. In my great-grandpappy’s day, Briarwood was largely a farm community. Labor Day signaled the end of harvest season and it’s still an important event.”
“Not too many farms left around here, are there?” Joel gulped down some of his beer and polished off his hors d’oeuvres.
“No. People sent their kids off to college. A good number didn’t come back. And who could blame them? It’s such a fight, keeping the kudzu vines out. I’m sure you’ve seen them in the Atlanta area.” He shook his head. “Those suckers take hold and kill virtually every plant in the vicinity. Kudzu can kill an entire forest. Farmers around here tried a number of methods to control it, but not all of ’em were good choices. An insect farmers imported also ate soybean crops. Now folks grow only enough to feed their families. They let forestry crews battle the kudzu. The farmers mostly retired or found other jobs. That accounts for so many bed-and-breakfast spots springing up. They cater to tourists driving our scenic parkways.” Rob shook his head again and took a swig of beer. “Mountain crafts take less effort than backbreaking, year-round farming. And the money’s better in a good tourist year.”
While Joel wasn’t paying attention, Sylvie sidled up. “Dad, are you boring Joel with Briarwood’s history?”
“Oh, I’m not bored. I appreciate knowing the town’s background. Rob’s about to give me a job at your Labor Day Festival.”
The older man bestowed an indulgent smile on his daughter. “Your mother suggested you take Joel under your wing, Sylvie.”
“I’ll just bet she did.” Sylvie’s scowl didn’t pass by Joel unnoticed.
Apparently, though, it went right over her dad’s head. Or else Rob chose to ignore her, saying instead, “Now, Sylvie, you need a man’s help to carry those heavy boxes of prizes into the booths at the kiddie carnival. I had Jeffery down for that, but as Mom pointed out, Carline’s due date falls right on the date of the festival. First sign of a labor pain and you know Jeff will be a basket case.”
“Yes, that’s true. Still, it’s no reason to shanghai Joel. The poor man deserves one year to enjoy the festival with his daughter.” Sylvie scanned the room. “I know, Dad. I’ll ask Buddy to fill in for Jeff. If I can find him... Mr. and Mrs. Deaver would probably be delighted to have him visit again so soon.”
Since Rob seemed not to hear her question concerning Buddy’s whereabouts, Joel took it upon himself to interject casually, “Your date went home to download the Japanese stock-market reports.”
“He what? He wouldn’t. Not without saying a word to me.”
“Well, he felt bad, I think. Although he did seem to indicate that you weren’t being much help drumming up prospective clients.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. But Joel felt bad for teasing her.
Rob Shea chimed in again. “I told your mom and Joel, and I’ll tell you. That boy is odd. Brags a lot about how good he is, but I hear he’s not doing so great. In fact, the kid lost his clients so much money, his dad’s stopped referring people Buddy’s way. I’m surprised you’d go out with him, Sylvie. Besides, isn’t he five or six years younger than you?”
“Three. And you should have this conversation with your youngest daughter, not with me. Carline roped me into being Buddy’s date this evening.”
“Your mom told me, but why? Carline knows how busy you are during a wedding. What happened to that last young fella? The one Dory had you bring to the house? Chet, that’s his name. He’s closer to your age, Sylvie. Owns his own company, too. Seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders.”
“Yeah, great. Dad...Chet’s living with...a life-partner in Asheville.” She sighed. “I wish you’d do me a huge favor and tell Mom and the girls to quit trying to marry me off.”
“Chet’s married?” Rob just shook his head.
“Well, he’s in a committed relationship,” Sylvie muttered.
Joel understood what she was saying about Chet. That, too, he stored for future use with his Magnolia character.
“Oops...Kay’s giving me the high sign,” Sylvie said. “And here comes her photographer. They must want to cut the cake. I need to go unhook Kay’s train so her skirt shows to full advantage in the pictures.”
Joel caught Sylvie’s wrist as she gathered up her long dress to navigate through the door. “Name someplace for us to meet afterward. Will you need help boxing up the decorations?”
“Listen, you don’t have to stay to the bitter end. I can find someone to take me home.”
“Rianne is enjoying every minute here. Plus, she’d never forgive me if I left you in the lurch, Sylvie.”
It was obvious that Sylvie badly wanted to refuse his offer. Releasing a breath, she put a hand to her forehead and rubbed away the lines forming there.
Joel could tell when she gave in to the futility of fighting the inevitable tonight. Maybe because he’d already reached the same conclusion during Nan Shea’s earlier onslaught.
“You remember the men who came to rebuild our fence the other day? One of them is Grant Hopewell, Dory’s husband. He’ll be folding and stacking chairs on those rolling carts lined up out in the hall. You can give him a hand. But please keep it low-key. I’d rather not make it too obvious that I came with one man, and I’m leaving with another. You have no idea what wagging tongues in this town can do with a juicy tidbit like that.”
“Isn’t this much ado about nothing?”
“Ha! You’ll wish. Joel, I’ve lived here forever. I’ve planned weddings for couples who had no intention of ever marrying. Not until a group I call the marriage vigilantes set its sights on them and got into high gear. You have to see them in action to believe it, Joel. Or better yet...not.”
His skepticism might as well have been flashed in skywriting on the ceiling.
“Joel, trust me, you don’t want to fall into their clutches. And my mom and sisters are their most dedicated members.”
He was left pondering her dire warning as he hoisted his beer.
Rob Shea drained his bottle. “Time to mosey back for the grand finale,” the older man lamented. “The part I like best about these shindigs is the champagne and the cake. Our bakery does about as good a wedding cake as I’ve ever tasted. Bad thing about Nan doing the serving is that I won’t get to swipe a second slice. Listen, son, I heard part of what Sylvie said. I love that girl to distraction. She is, after all, my firstborn. And I guess you’d know there’s something extra-special about a man’s first daughter. Honestly, I tell you she’s obsessed with this idea that the town’s out to see her hitched.”
Joel nodded. “So, sir, you’re saying there’s nothing to her concern? You know for certain that your wife and other daughters, for instance, aren’t trying to find Sylvie a husband?”
Rob pursed his lips. “Well, I tell them all that just because Sylvie fell in love with weddings from the time she was knee-high to a toadstool, it doesn’t mean she’s dying to have one of her own.”
“You’d know her better than I do on that score. From what I’ve seen in a very short time, that seems to be true. Although, I have the impression that most women would rather be married than single.” That observation was pretty much the cornerstone for his comic strip. And it’d held up through most of his research in Atlanta’s singles gathering spots.
“Son, take it from a man who’s lived in a household full of females for a good long while. Every time I’m sure I’ve figured out that something or other is common to most women—one of the women in my family proves me dead wrong.”
Rob looked so perplexed, Joel laughed. “It’s good talking to you, sir. Since I’m raising a daughter by myself, I’ll store your advice for the future. Rianne’s only six. But I’ve already seen that her favorite anything today will be the bane of her existence next week.”
The older man smiled. “Well, if you ever need a sounding board, I’m a good listener. So was my dad, bless his soul. He used to take me fishing and let me ramble.”
His reference to f
ishing sent Joel’s mind straight to his outing with Rob’s eldest daughter. Joel couldn’t help recalling how Sylvie’s wet skin had shone pearly-white in the afternoon sun. He remembered again how affected he’d been by the sight of her. As if they were acting on their own, his eyes sought her out at the front of the room.
If he’d thought that seeing her amid the wedding trappings would somehow make her seem less attractive, he was very much in error. She was even more beautiful in her gown. Joel very much hoped Sylvie had willpower enough for them both. One of them needed to resist these feelings that were overtaking him.
After Rob said he’d be in touch about the festival, Joel wove his way to the children’s table, where Rianne now sat alone. He saw the other kids had crowded up to the cake table, to witness the cutting of the cake.
“I’m sorry I was gone so long, snooks. I’ll wait here if you’d like to join your friends.”
The happy hug she bestowed on him served to remind Joel that he wasn’t in any position to be daydreaming about a woman. Any woman.
Quietly, he sat back and watched the crowd. He accepted the champagne an unfamiliar woman poured him. The mood that had come over him passed and Joel began to focus again on eavesdropping, picking up comments and observations to incorporate in his comic strip.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS DURING the cleanup after the reception that Joel overheard yet another person alluding to Sylvie’s secret dress. One of the bridesmaids, perhaps the youngest in the party, trailed after Dory, talking incessantly. “Brian had a great time at Kay’s wedding. We danced every single dance. I feel in my bones he’s this close to giving me a ring, Dory.” Swaying dreamily, the girl held her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.
Joel took his time stacking chairs. His ears perked up much the same way Oscar’s did when humans entered his sphere. The bridesmaid—Joel thought her name was Tracie—reverently brought up the dress. She placed the emphasis on the, as if only one dress was worthy of such distinction.
Dory continued to fold table linens and pile them on a table. Very close to where Joel closed and stacked chairs.
“Tracie, take it from me,” Dory said. “Order a book of bridal patterns and choose one you love. Sylvie refused to sell Kay the gown, and you know they’ve been best friends forever.”
“You’ve seen the dress, right? Is it as magnificent as we’ve all heard? A regular Cinderella ball gown?”
Dory snatched the last pink tablecloth out of dreamy-eyed Tracie’s hands. “No one’s actually seen the dress, Tracie. But anytime Sylvie wants to avoid doing something Carline and I try to get her to do, she claims to be busy sewing. Even when she’s between weddings. So what would you think?”
“Somebody we both know well, but who shall remain nameless, got her nose out of joint because Sylvie said she couldn’t buy the dress. She’s spreading rumors in our crowd that perhaps it doesn’t exist.”
“Ridiculous! I’ve seen the dress form. She keeps it covered.” Packing the last tablecloth in the box, Dory paused to put on the lid. Joel noted her irritated expression. “I can guess who you mean, Tracie,” Dory said huffily. “I can guarantee that every dress Sylvie makes is gorgeous. Why fuss over one she’s saving for herself?”
“Personally I think it’d be hilarious if there was no dress. Like, what if when Sylvie came home from New York and everybody was whispering that she’d failed or that some guy broke her heart—what if she invented this whole PR strategy around an invented dress? Can you think of a better way to entice customers? It’s called applied economics. Mention one-of-a-kind, or for that matter any commodity in short supply, and people line up for blocks hoping to be the one who’ll end up possessing whatever it is.”
Joel set the fourth of four chairs he’d hauled across the room on the rolling cart, having missed part of that conversation while he was gone. He admitted to being disappointed when the two women finished folding linens and moved on to another chore.
The notion of a Cinderella gown intrigued him. The possibility that this gown might be a fraud, a lie, fascinated him even more. Something like that would add a great twist to the Magnolia plotline. He imagined Magnolia as an expert seamstress—sort of like Sylvie. But not exactly like her. That had the potential to cause problems. But—wouldn’t it be a hoot to have his character drag a wedding dress to Atlanta? Have wedding dress, will travel to locate a groom. Huh, he’d already decided Magnolia’s folks would rope cousins Poppy and Rose into this husband hunt. He’d planned to make Magnolia crafty enough to let everyone think she was playing along—but really had no intention of falling in with their plans. But maybe if she had this secret wedding dress—or claimed to have it... His mind clicked through one idea after another.
Except for keeping tabs on Rianne as she played tag with Dory’s children in a near-empty room, Joel’s head remained in the clouds as he plotted. This was the part he loved most about working with comic-strip characters. He liked dreaming up funny but plausible situations, based on real life.
In the process he missed a lot that went on around him. Somehow he hadn’t realized that Sylvie had changed from her bridesmaid’s dress into jeans and a T-shirt until she broke into his trance. “Yo...Joel.” Sylvie snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’ve just about swept the finish off that linoleum square,” she teased. “Are you asleep at the broom?”
“Wow—some metamorphosis from butterfly to caterpillar. Where’s your dress?”
“I always change after the reception. I’ll send the dress to the cleaners and when it comes back I’ll rip it apart and use the material for another project.”
“You only wear it once?”
“No one ever wears a bridesmaid’s dress after a wedding’s over. Other women can spot a bridesmaid’s dress from a mile away. Since I sew, I can at least reuse my fabric. Otherwise it gets costly to keep making fancy dresses.”
“I could see that if you were in a huge number of weddings. But how many can that be?”
Dory walked up in time to hear their exchange. “Ha! Ask her how many times she’s been a bridesmaid, Joel. A baker’s dozen,” she answered when Sylvie didn’t. “Carline and I say thirteen is unlucky. She should’ve turned Kay down. After all, Syl, you’ve been her maid of honor twice now.”
“Twelve, thirteen, what difference does it make? Honestly, Dory, you and Carline should get a life. You’re too superstitious.”
“So? If people say often enough that you’re always a bridesmaid but never a bride, Sylvie, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Don’t roll your eyes at me, Sylvie Shea.”
“I didn’t roll them—I crossed them. Where’s your sense of humor?”
“I don’t have one when it comes to the way you create a touch-me-not aura that scares off unattached men.”
“I’m sure we can discuss this another time, Dory. I have to make a final sweep of the lodge and then lock up. Joel does not need to hear our bickering.”
He leaned on the broom handle, chin nestled in clasped hands, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “Actually, it’s fascinating. I’m an only child, so sibling rivalry is foreign to me. This is good stuff to know in case I ever provide Rianne with a little brother or sister.”
Dory’s head whipped around. “Then you have a fiancée, or at least someone you’re seriously dating?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Sylvie said, abruptly jerking the broom out of Joel’s hands.
At the same time, he said dazedly, “No, I’m speaking hypothetically.”
Too late, Joel saw the smug smile settle on Dory Hopewell’s face.
“Good night, Dory,” Sylvie interjected firmly, hooking her sister’s arm and dragging her a few feet away. “Thanks to you and Grant for helping clear the lodge. Joel and I will close up, and we’ll leave after I collect my dress, plus a couple of boxes of candles and stuff. And Rianne,” she added as the kids ran giggling past.
Now it was Dory who blinked in confusion. “I just noticed Buddy’s gone. Ho
nestly, don’t tell me that little pipsqueak walked off and left you, Syl.”
“So you’re saying you weren’t party to our dear mother dismissing my date? She strong-armed Joel into serving as my chauffeur. I figured it was a conspiracy setup by the three of you. I’m actually relieved to discover that my sisters draw a line somewhere in their insane attempt to throw me at any unsuspecting man who has the misfortune of setting foot in Briarwood.”
“Sylvie!” Dory burst out. “You’re giving Joel a false opinion of your family.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sylvie shot back. “I like Joel. He’s a nice man. He’s so nice, Dory, he can’t fathom the lengths to which my family is willing to go.”
“We love you, Syl,” Dory responded, spontaneously hugging Sylvie.
“I know.” Tears springing to her eyes, Sylvie accepted the gesture. “But, Dory, love means letting a sister muddle along on her own.”
“Even if you’re making a giant mistake? You’re missing out. You should be happily starting your own family,” Dory wailed, not releasing Sylvie as she tried to pull away.
“Even if,” Sylvie murmured.
Dory’s husband, who’d rounded up his son and daughter, sauntered over to where Joel stood apart from the women. “Are they making up after another sisterly spat?”
Nodding, Joel slid an arm around Rianne, who’d skipped up, vainly attempting to hide a yawn.
Grant extended a hand to Joel. “Grant Hopewell. I saw you leaning out your upstairs window the day I repaired the fence you share with my sister-in-law. Rob just told me he recruited you for our Labor Day baseball game. I hope you can play second base. It’s a key role against those heavy hitters. If Jeff shows up at all, his mind won’t be on the game, but on Carline and the baby. He alternates between second base and shortstop. To tell you the truth, our infield’s pathetic. Outside of Jeff, we don’t have a player who can catch worth spit.”
The Hope Dress Page 13
