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“It’s okay, I thought you were . . . well it sounds crazy, so never mind.”
“Daisy?” he guessed.
I nodded. “Yes. She lives in this place.”
George looked around and smiled. “She was calling to me today, too. I think she wanted me to see your guest.” He gave me a meaningful look.
I sat back down in the rocking chair. “Yeah,” I blew out. “What a surprise, huh?”
“Always knew he would come back.” He lowered his frail body onto an old leather trunk. His mischievous brown eyes were as young as ever, but his body told another story. A story I didn’t like the ending to.
“You were right. But he’s not staying.”
“You think so?” George gave me that all-knowing smile of his.
“I know so. He leaves on Sunday.”
“We shall see,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Let this place work its magic.”
“Oh, George,” I cried. “The magic made Jameson. It’s all I need.”
“This is a place of wants, too.” He winked.
I wiped an errant tear. “Please don’t give me any hope. Drake’s life is in LA and ours is here. Besides, he’s angry with me, and he doesn’t seem to be too sure about the dad thing.”
“Give him some time, girlie.”
“I’ve been waiting for over six years.”
“The best happily ever afters take more time.” He grinned, showing off his stained dentures.
“You are a hopeless romantic.” I smiled.
“Nope. I’m full of hope. You should be too.”
I stood and stretched my back. “I should be working. Do you want to help me look for some photos for the ball?”
“I’d love to.” He reached for me. “Care to help an old man up?”
“It would be my honor.” I took a few steps toward him.
He noticed the photo I still held. “Best day of my life, there,” he said wistfully.
I handed him the photo and instead of helping him up, I sat next to him so we could both admire it. It was like sitting next to my grandfather. Such love for George enveloped me.
He leaned on me for support while his eyes misted. “She was a vision that day. Pretty in pink.” George craned his head my way. “Have you found a dress for the ball yet?”
“Not yet. Nothing has felt right. Maybe I’ll just wear the black dress I wore last year.”
“I think I have a better idea.” The corners of his mouth ticked up.
“You do? Did you hear of a hot sale at one of the boutiques in town?” We had a few. All pricey and geared toward the rich tourists this town was known for.
“The dress I’m thinking about won’t cost you a penny.”
I tilted my head, intrigued. “I’m all ears.” Especially because I loved the no pennies part. This inn was a money pit. A beautiful, wonderful money pit.
George held up the photo and it shook. The man probably shouldn’t be driving, but I wasn’t touching that subject yet. He pointed at his beloved wife. “I think you would look perfect in pink too.”
My eyes widened. “You think I should wear Daisy’s wedding dress?”
He nodded with a gleam in his eyes. “She would love it.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that. Dresses like that are meant to be . . . well, I don’t know exactly, but I can’t wear her wedding dress.” I wasn’t even sure a dress that old would be in any condition to wear.
George set the photo next to him and took my hands in his knotted and age-spotted ones. “Girlie, dresses like that are meant to be passed down to daughters, and you are the closest thing we ever had to one,” he choked out.
Tears filled my eyes. “I’m so honored you think so,” I blubbered. “But she didn’t really know me. And I would hate if anything happened to it.”
“Oh, she knows you. She picked you for this place. She would want you to wear the dress,” he practically begged me to consider it.
I swallowed the ball of love down in my throat, knowing he spoke the truth. I could feel it—feel her. “Do you have the dress?”
He gave me a crooked grin and pointed at a wooden hope chest in the corner, one I had looked in many times but had never noticed a dress. All that was in it were some old keepsakes—a jewelry box that played music, a book of pressed flowers, old concert ticket stubs, and the like.
“Have a look,” he said.
I pressed my lips together and narrowed my eyes. “What are you playing at, old man?” I lovingly teased him.
“Go see for yourself.”
I stood and tiptoed over to the chest with rays of light dancing across it, like magic stardust. I knelt in front of it and breathed in the scent of cedar and dreams, hesitant to disturb the blissful feeling surrounding it.
“Go ahead,” George encouraged me.
I bit my lip and lightly lifted the wooden lid to peek inside, afraid I wouldn’t find what my mind knew couldn’t be in there but what my heart said was plausible in this place. My heart leaped when I saw a white preservation box with a peek-through window showcasing Daisy’s wedding dress in all its pink glory. The baby-soft pink was as vibrant as ever, as far as I could tell.
