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Charlotte shut the door. Mom did a little happy dance.
Ophelia fluidly stood. “I should go.”
“Please don’t.” I mean, we weren’t the best of friends yet, but I felt like she should be a part of this moment. I only hoped she didn’t hold my mother’s crazy against me.
Ophelia’s features softened as much as they could. Patrick did let it slip she’d had some work done. Whoever her plastic surgeon was, I had to say,bravo.
“I would be honored,” Ophelia said in her elegant voice.
“Let’s get you undressed,” Mom squealed.
I stood, not believing I was doing this. Thankfully, there was an old dividing panel in the room. Though it was a little nippy. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. It would help perk up the girls.
Mom unzipped the dress bag, revealing the pristine white gown. Tears filled her eyes. “This is a dream come true for me. To have one of my girls wear my dress. To carry on the love your father and I share.”
Oh geez. Now I would for sure have to wear it. Which I wasn’t against, but I wanted options in case I looked terrible in the dress. I slipped behind the panel and began to remove all my layers. With each layer came shivers and goosebumps.
Mom, without invitation, joined me behind the curtain.
I gave her a wry grin.
“Oh please; I wiped your bum.” She held up the dress.
I supposed she had a point, but my butt was no longer as cute as it once was.
Once I was down to my skivvies, Mom helped me into the dress, the chiffon cool and soft against my skin.
Mom was barely holding in her emotions as she zipped me up. She kept sniffing like she had a cold. “Let me see you.”
I turned around and looked down at the dress. Surprisingly, I hadn’t needed to suck anything in to fit into it.
Mom put her hands to her mouth and full on started to bawl. She was rendered speechless, which was saying something.
“Show us!” Char yelled.
Mom took my hand and led me out, as if she were presenting me at a fashion show.
Char’s and Ophelia’s mouths dropped.
“That bad?” I squirmed.
“No,” Charlotte said, on a breath. “Look in the mirror.”
I walked over and stood in front of Daisy’s old brass standing mirror. I smoothed out the chiffon and stared at myself in the A-line dress with an empire waist. I felt like a little girl again, with so many hopes and dreams, except this time I knew exactly who I wanted to end up with. My breasts heaved out of the dress a bit, but I didn’t think Patrick would mind. It was easy to picture him by my side in a dark suit, ready to become my husband. I knew exactly how he would gaze into my eyes adoringly, his covered in a mist. He would probably run a finger down my cheek while repeatedly mouthing that he loved me. And neither of us would wait for the preacher to pronounce us man and wife before we kissed.
Mom came up behind me and held up my hair so I could picture what it might look like on my wedding day. “You are so beautiful, honey.”
I felt more beautiful and feminine than I ever had. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t wanted to wear this dress the first go-round. However, I was so thankful I hadn’t. This dress was meant for Patrick. “I love it,” I choked out. “I can’t wait to wear it.” As soon as those words came out of my mouth, a sweet tune I recognized called “Love Story,” an old Andy Williams song, filled the air. I knew Daisy loved that song from stories George had told us. We all turned around, trying to find the source.
“I think it’s coming from Daisy’s hope chest.” Charlotte drifted over to the corner where the chest was stored. The music played louder as the top of the chest was lifted. Charlotte reached in and retrieved a beautiful carved-wood jewelry box I knew belonged to Daisy. The tinkling sound played from the box, which once upon a time had sat on the white dresser that used to be up here. We’d refinished it and placed it in the honeymoon suite. As a special touch, we had carved George and Daisy’s names on it, surrounded by a heart. Their wedding picture stood atop.
“Is it broken?” I wondered aloud as I walked Charlotte’s way. It was kind of freaky that it had started playing on its own, seeing as the lid was closed and the music box needed to be wound.
Charlotte looked it over and then handed it to me. “I don’t think so.”
“Huh.” I took it. The lid creaked a bit as I opened it. The tune got a little louder. But that’s not what caught my attention. “Oh my goodness. It’s the ornament.” I pulled out the heart that Daisy had so lovingly cross-stitched many years ago. “When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew,”I cried. “How did this get in here?” I was sure we had looked in the jewelry box before we’d placed it in the hope chest several months ago, but maybe I was wrong.
Charlotte wore a Cheshire grin.
