Page 50 of All Dressed Up

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Will said a quick hello to Mrs. Abbott, holding the door open for his former sixth grade teacher who had her hands full with a large, brightly colored floral arrangement.

He smiled over at Rachel, adjusting his laptop bag over his shoulder while watching as she finished up with a customer. It was almost noon. He’d planned on coming earlier but had gotten caught up on all the insurance paperwork he needed to complete.

He’d also made a quick detour to the police department with a dozen assorted donuts to apologize again for the assault on Jessie. Ernie appreciated the gesture and said they were cool.

“Hey,” he greeted Rachel, adjusting his blue and green striped tie. If he was going to make amends for last night, it meant coming to work looking professional. No wearing white T-shirts. He’d even thrown out the one opened bag of cheese puffs left on his coffee table from yesterday’s bender for good measure.

Truth be told, he liked wearing a dress shirt and tie. For most of his adult life, he’d worn ratty cotton shirts and brown overalls covered in car grease.

When he took over for his mom last winter, she’d pushed a finger into his chest and warned him he’d have to wear business attire when the boutique was open and that she had spies around town that would let her know if he didn’t.

He rubbed a hand over his chest. He didn’t doubt it.

“Hey, you.” Rachel stepped from behind the counter. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than the other guy.”

She leveled him with her baby blues.

“Too soon?” he joked. “Listen, I’m really sorry for my behavior last night. It will never happen again. No more fights with old, defenseless men, no matter how much they deserve it.”

“About that... Um... There’s something I have to tell you,” she said but didn’t seem to have an interest in continuing the conversation as she fiddled with the flowers on her counter.

Man, he really messed up. He played with his cuff links. He’d just have to prove to her then that things were going to be different. That they could be friends.

Maybe they couldn’t be together. Maybe she’d end up with Marc or some other guy.

He’d hate it, but he’d deal with it. It was time to grow up.

“I was thinking,” he said to let her off the hook from struggling with whatever it was she was trying to say. “I was thinking that this morning I’d call a few of my brides for consultations. If they don’t like any of the dresses we have upstairs, we could see about ordering them the same one they had before.” He pulled his laptop bag off his shoulder. “All the information is in here.”

She smiled. “That’s a nice backup, but you won’t need it.”

“I won’t?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

She tilted her head to the ceiling. “I have Emma’s wedding dress.”

“You do?” His pulse quickened. Not what he’d expected her to say. Maybe that was what she’d been holding back.

“Yes. Mary delivered it this morning.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully and then waved for him to follow her, tossing over her shoulder a coy, “Care to see?”

“Hell, yeah.” He joined her up the stairs into his temporary shop where Rachel pulled out a long, ivory dress from the front of the portable rack.

“Ta-da!”

“What is this?” He walked over, running his hands down the soft fabric.

“Emma’s dress, silly. It came out of the trunk this morning.”

“You really found it in the trunk?”

She nodded. “Remember the note? Mary said last night Emma’d get her dress later. When I came this morning, it was in there.”

---