Page 15 of The Bride Auction

When we went inside, she placed her hand on my shoulder and bent down to my height to whisper, “Don't worry, we’ll put it under my account. As soon as Renick officially takes his father’s place and the titles to the assets are transferred, you will have free access to anything he has. Don’t worry about the cost of any item. There’s more than enough to cover everything.”

From that statement alone, I was a bit nervous to go inside. I didn’t want to knock any of the intricate decorations over or accidentally ruin the clothing, lest the shop charge my damages to the account.

“I don’t think I’ve said this before, Imoa, but I’m sorry for the loss of your husband. From what Renick told me he was a good man.”

“Thank you, daughter.” I could see genuine affection on her face. “We had many great years together. I wish you and Renick a lifetime of happiness and as many years as my husband and I had.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I do wish we weren’t meeting under these circumstances.”

A muscle in her lower jaw twitched, and she pursed her lips. I could tell it took all her restraint not to show the deep emotion she was feeling. Making her cry was the last thing I wanted her to do.

Inside the store hundreds of dresses stood on display. I made a beeline for black, the darker, more somber colors.

“Those would be beautiful for your bonding ceremony,” Imoa said.

“Wait, what?” I blinked rapidly.

“Maybe it's a good thing that we look for your bonding ceremony outfit first, instead of doing the sadder things.”

“I’d wear a dark color to my bonding ceremony?” I asked.

Imoa tilted her head, and a hint of a smile crossed her face. “I have a feeling there’s a cultural difference here. Come with me, daughter,” she said, guiding me over to white outfits with shimmery details, little sequins, beading, and a few even had gemstones.

“These are the funeral clothes,” Imoa said. I must have had a confused look on my face, because she continued. “Let me guess. In your culture you wear dark colors to mourn the death of a loved one.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Death is a somber occasion, and we wear dark clothes for mourning.”

“Here we celebrate their lives, and we celebrate the joy in the time we spent with them. We wear white to honor them like the clouds in the sky. Even though at times the clouds disappear, they always reform, and in that sense our loved ones come back to us. They never leave us.”

My heart pounded. “I like that. It’s comforting. If you look up at the sky, you can see your relatives. You can feel them looking down on you.”

“Exactly,” she said. “It’s a beautiful way to honor your loved ones. I appreciate you honoring my mate, even though you never met him.” Imoa flicked through the options in front of her. “Do you see anything you like?” Imoa asked. “I think I’ll go with this one,” she said, picking up a simple dress with a dainty cape sewed to the top of the shoulder. Along the edge of the cape a line of beads was sewn in and above that there were two rows of white and silver sequins that alternated spaces. “Yes, I think this is the one I'm going to go with.”

“It’s a beautiful way to honor your mate,” I said. I glanced back at Imoa’s dress and chose a similar one only adorned with one row of beads on the cape.

“You honor me, daughter,” Imoa said. “Unknowingly, you’ve picked a mother and daughter outfit.”

“Should I pick something different?”

“Absolutely not! You are my oldest son’s mate, and you are my family.”

A lump formed in my throat “Thank you,” I choked out.

Imoa brought the dresses to the counter. “We’re not done yet,” she said to the female with long purple hair wrapped in a crown shape braid over her head.

“Take all the time you need, Imoa,” she said.

Imoa clapped her hands. “Now, onto the fun stuff! You need a bonding ceremony outfit.”

She guided me towards dresses in all different colors. Pantsuits as well as racks of gowns in all shades and styles covered the shop. Arranged in a rainbow, outfits of purples, pinks, oranges and yellows filled the upper floor. I stepped back, taking everything in.

“Wow, this is overwhelming. I don’t know where to begin. Would you help me, Imoa? What do females on Tenap usually wear?”

She laughed, and her face looked younger. “Whatever they want. Whatever looks good on them. Why? What do females in your culture wear?”

I explained that they typically wear a white dress. “I suppose it’s a symbol for purity and a new beginning,” I said, “but here I don’t want to wear white. I want to blend in since now I’m going to be one of your people. The Abrane, I mean.”

“Oh daughter.” Imoa pulled me in for a big hug. “You already are. What's your favorite color?” she asked.

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