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She walked back, feeling low. Even if insurance paid for damages, it would take too long for her to get back up and running with clients. She was doomed.
Moments later, the fire department arrived. There wasn’t much for them to do but suggest a restoration company, whom she called right away. Being a small town, they came thirty minutes later and assessed the damage.
Unfortunately, nothing could be saved of what had been destroyed in the flood. Everything was ruined. Almost all of her furniture needed replacing, not just drying out; linens were stained beyond repair; display cases were warped; and the entire store smelled musty from the water that had seeped into every crevice. It was a total loss.
And when the man handed her the estimate to do the clean-up and repair what they could, she almost wished the breaker box had electrocuted her. She didn’t have the money to do the repairs, but knew if she didn’t hire them, in days, her store would be covered in mold, and every dream she had would be dead.
“When can you start?” She didn’t know where she’d get the money, but she said a silent prayer to the universe to send her a miracle.
She handed over the keys, grabbed her bag and shoes, and pulled the wedding dress off the mannequin. She hoped that Lola’s Dry Cleaners could salvage it, and she’d at least have one piece of her original dream left.
She glanced at her phone and knew she had enough time to drop the dress off, go home, touch up her makeup, and head to the funeral.
* * *
Frazzled didn’t come closeto how she felt,but at least she didn’t look like she’d been dragged through the mud, rinsedoff,andthenusedasa doormat! When she arrived at the church, she parked under a big tree and watched as people filed in the door. She was sure that only a handful had met Chloe, but hundreds showed. Southerners were like that. It was good manners and a great time to try a new recipe.
Inside, people were chatting in hushed tones with somber expressions. A few folks stopped to hug Charlotte as if she were the one grieving. It made her feel bad that she hadn’t taken the time to get to know her neighbor. She scanned the crowd, looking for Bastien, Ivy, and Rachel. She found Ivy and Rachel sitting in the front pew. Ivy hugged her teddy bear and held the tenderly adorned envelope in her hand. Rachel looked bored and as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world. Where was Bastien?
She moved down the aisle and approached Ivy.
“Charlotte!” Ivy called out, her voice ringing through the quiet room.
“Hello, Ivy, how are you, honey?” She ruffled Ivy’s bangs and then carefully finger-combed them back into place. “I was looking for your Uncle Bast. Do you know where I can find him?”
“He went out that door with Mee-maw.” She pointed to a door at the side of the building.
“Thank you.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Yes, I’ll be back soon.” She walked to the door and exited to find herself in a courtyard full of memorial plaques. The morning sun cast a beautiful golden hue on them. She spotted Bastien down one path and headed towards the old graveyard where his dark hair peeked above the tall stone wall. As she neared, she heard a conversation between him and a woman. She stopped on the other side of the wall, not wanting to interrupt. She figured when a lull in their conversation occurred, she’d show herself.
“I’ve filed a motion to gain custody of Ivy,” the woman said.
“Mom, you know full well that’s not what Chloe wanted.”
“She had cancer. She obviously wasn’t in a good place to make sound decisions.” A low, unladylike growl filled the air. “What was she thinking? You’re not fit to raise a little girl. Hell, you’ve been known to date them.”
“That’s absurd and untrue.”
“The last woman you dated was thirty, and you were forty-five.”
“I’d hardly call her a child.”
“You’re a bachelor, and a small girl shouldn’t be exposed to your single, work-hard, play-hard lifestyle. A couple with a solid, longstanding marriage must raise her. No court is going to award custody to a playboy.”
Charlotte knew she should skedaddle before things got too heated, but she couldn’t bring her feet to move.
A long, slow whistle floated above the old stone wall. “And you and dad are the model for a solid marriage?”
His mother scoffed. “We’ve been married for over fifty years.”
“Happily?”
She spat out a response. “No marriage is always happy.”
“You don’t even live together. Dad lives in London with Eve, and what’s the name of the pool boy of the month?”
