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At her touch, Brooks turned and smiled at her, his eyes stirring with confusion. Probably, she looked like a crazy person, pushing through the crowd to get to him.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I just remembered that I actually really like coffee.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Specifically, I’d like to have a coffee with you,” Aurora added. “Now. If you’re still free.”
Brooks laughed and shook his head, clearly at a loss at her insanity. “Lucky for you, I haven’t made any new plans yet. Let’s go.”
ChapterSix
The vintage wedding dress shop on the outer edge of the Nantucket Historic District was run by an eighty-two-year-old woman named Beth. Over the years, Beth had refurbished and sold upwards of three thousand vintage wedding dresses, many of which carried within them unique and wonderful stories of love. Ella wasn’t sure how Beth knew so much about each dress— and sometimes, she had a hunch that Beth just made up the stories on the spot as a way to electrify the mystique of the dresses. Still, Ella appreciated a performance, no matter what— and several months back, she’d opted for a beautiful 1970s vintage bohemian wedding gown, the color of cream, which, according to Beth, had been worn by a semi-successful folk singer when she’d married an actor.
Now, Ella, Laura, Alana, and Julia were at the wedding dress shop for a final fitting. In the dressing room, Ella stepped into her dress and eyed herself in the mirror, flipping her hair over her shoulders. In the sitting area, her daughter and her sisters chatted easily with Beth, listening to more stories about wedding gowns and the women who’d worn them.
“You all right in there, Mom?” Laura called.
Ella opened the dressing room door, wincing with slight embarrassment as she stepped out. As an indie rocker who’d spent most of her life in all black, it felt strange to wear something so girly. Then again, when she gazed into the three-way mirror before her, taking in the drop of the back and the immaculate beading, she felt exhilarated with expectation, as though this was the dress she’d been born to wear.
“It’s really fitting that you opted for the musician’s dress,” Beth said, dropping easily into a squat to inspect the stitching, despite her eighty-two years. Rumor had it Beth went to the gym every morning and lifted weights to keep her bones young and was fitter than all of the Copperfield sisters combined.
“Ella, it’s divine,” Alana breathed, walking around the dress. “It’s just so unique. I can’t imagine anything else suiting you better.”
It was rare to get such a nice compliment from Alana. Ella smiled and eyed her daughter, then Julia, both of whom seemed on the verge of tears.
“It’s perfect,” Julia said, as Laura nodded, sniffing.
The fitting took just a little more than a half hour, during which time Beth scolded them numerous times for laughing too much.
“I need to make precise measurements!” Beth said.
“Sorry, Beth,” Ella said, wincing toward her sisters and daughter, who pressed their hands over their mouths and tried not to burst.
After the fitting finished, Ella dressed in a navy-blue summer dress and joined her sisters and daughter outside the wedding dress shop, where evening light glowed orange across the rooftops and through the thick green leaves of trees.
“I’m starving,” Laura admitted, looping her arm through Ella’s.
“Me too,” Julia said.
“I made us a reservation,” Alana said, giving them a sneaky smile. “The new fish restaurant near the harbor.”
“The Mexican fusion one?” Laura cried.
Alana’s eyebrows danced.
“That’s insane! It’s been booked since it opened,” Julia said.
“I have my ways,” Alana said, flipping her hair. “When you live in Paris as long as I did, you have to find ways through silly things like reservations.”
Julia and Ella exchanged glances, rolling their eyes. Even still, this was the magic of knowing Alana Copperfield. Strange and wonderful things happened when she was around.
At the Mexican seafood restaurant, which was called Fajita Poisson, a server led the four of them to a table on the patio overlooking the harbor. The breeze shifted through Ella’s dark hair as she scanned the cocktail and wine menus, deciding on a mojito. Laura opted for a Diet Coke, while Julia and Alana went for chardonnay. Around them, other diners were dressed immaculately, there to be seen just as much as they wanted to taste the food. At a table toward the back, Ella recognized one of the men who’d accused her father of stealing money from him and had even taken the stand at the trial. When he saw her looking at him, he turned his chair around so that he wouldn’t have to see her. He was ashamed.
Ella decided not to point out his presence to her sisters. Julia often grew very hot-headed and volatile about this topic, as she was the closest to their father, especially after having edited and published his book. Alana, too, had a temper, especially when it came to standing up for her family. Although Ella appreciated that, all she wanted, just now, was a relaxed, happy evening with her sisters and daughter. She didn’t want to get into the horrors of the past.
After they had ordered dinner and received their drinks, Laura raised her Diet Coke for a toast, her eyes dancing as she said, “To my mother and father. I think those kids just might make it.”
Everyone laughed and clinked glasses as Julia said, “Your mother and father always thought they were too cool to get married.”
