Good Buy Girls 05 - All Sales Final (2 page)

“Why can’t I just wear a dress I already own?” Maggie asked. She knew her voice had reached a whiney pitch but she didn’t care enough to try and make it less grating. Her feet hurt, her back ached and she was pretty sure she’d pulled a muscle in her butt, trying to wriggle into the last dress Ginger had foisted upon her.

“Maggie Gerber, you are not walking down the aisle to Sam Collins in a dress you already own,” Ginger Lancaster said. A fine sheen of sweat coated her dark complexion; clearly Maggie wasn’t the only one exerting herself in this quest for the perfect bridal gown.

Maggie had refused to wear white. She was in her forties. She’d already been married and had a grown daughter, and wearing white just seemed too ingénue
to her. Unfortunately, her auburn hair and pale freckled skin ruled out a lot of color options.

Then there was the issue that Maggie was a founder of a self-named group of bargain hunters called the Good Buy Girls, who pretty much lived for savings and thrift. She simply could not spend a fortune on a dress she was going to wear for just one day. It went against the code.

If it had been left up to Maggie, she would have worn the gown she had worn to the Madison Ball in December, but her friends wouldn’t hear of it.

“Ginger’s right. Besides your favorite was a long-sleeved, high-necked dress that would be suffocating to wear in June,” Joanne Claramotta said. She glanced up from the stroller that carried her baby girl Patience, or as her daddy liked to call her, Patty Cake.

“And the olive color, while gorgeous in December, is a bit somber for a June wedding,” Claire Freemont chimed in. “Not to mention the back.”

“What back?” Ginger asked and they all broke out laughing. “Oh yeah, Pastor Shields would keel over dead if he got a gander at all that skin in his house of worship.”

Maggie heaved a sigh. “I could wear a veil that would cover the open back.”

“No. Just no,” Ginger said and shook her head at her.

“Fine,” Maggie said. “But I look like Tinker Bell in this thing so it’s a no, too.”

“Oh, I think it’s cute,” Joanne said.

Maggie glanced at her friend. Clearly, she was suffering from some postpartum fashion impairment. The bodice of the dress Maggie currently had on was sparkly silver and the skirt looked like a puffy tutu in layers of pink and purple tulle. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in this dress, and she was pretty sure Ginger had only made her put it on to amuse herself. One glance at Ginger’s face, which was contorted from trying not to laugh, confirmed it.

“You’re right,” Maggie said. She spun a sloppy pirouette in the dressing room’s three-way mirror. “It is cute. You know, I think I’ll take it.”

“Gah! What?” Ginger squawked.

“Aha!” Maggie pointed at her. “You were pranking me with this dress.”

“Maybe, a little,” Ginger said. She looked down. “Claire bet me five bucks I couldn’t get you to try it on.”

“Ah,” Maggie gasped. “Claire!”

“What?” Claire asked. She pushed her black glasses up on her nose. “I’m the one who’s out five bucks. I don’t know why you’re upset. Besides we’ve been at this for five hours. We’ve hit every bridal store within a fifty mile radius of St. Stanley. Honestly, how can we not have found you a reasonably priced but still amazing dress yet?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “But this poufy sparkly thing is giving me a headache.” She glanced at the skin on her chest. “And possibly a rash.”

“Here, let’s get you out of it,” Ginger said and she spun Maggie around and unzipped her.

Maggie sucked in a deep gulp of air and ducked behind the curtain to get dressed. When she returned with the offending dress and three other rejects on her arm, she handed them to the waiting saleslady and signaled to the girls that it was time to go.

As they passed a bride and her mother, Maggie felt a pang in her chest. She missed her daughter, Laura, who was doing an internship in New York City this summer. Oh, she’d be in Virginia to stand up for Maggie at the wedding, and Maggie knew that Laura loved Sam and was happy for them, but her baby girl would be finishing college soon and was starting her own life. It was one of the many changes Maggie had been trying to adjust to over the past few months.

“Don’t worry,” Ginger said as she draped her arm over Maggie’s shoulder. “It’s only May; we have almost a month to find your perfect dress.”

Maggie returned her friend’s half hug. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t just the dress that had her fretting. She and Sam had decided to start their new life in a new house, a place that they owned together, which would be a new beginning for both of them. While she was thrilled by the idea of a fresh start, leaving her home of more than twenty years was harder than she had thought it would be.

“I know you’re right,” she said. She didn’t want to burden her friends with all of her thoughts. “No worries.”

Joanne had been the designated driver since she needed Patience’s car seat. They all piled into her SUV with Ginger sitting next to Patience so she could coo at the baby
while they drove. As the mother of four teen boys, Ginger could not get enough of the precious baby girl.

“If not ivory or white, then what color do you want to wear to your wedding?” Claire asked from the front passenger seat. “I can research customs for second weddings for you at the library. Maybe there is something mystical about wearing red or purple.”

Claire glanced over her seat back at Maggie. With her blond bob and rectangular black glasses, Claire looked just like the librarian that she was. She was always the one to answer a conundrum with research and Maggie valued her for it.

“That might give us some interesting ideas,” Joanne said. “Maybe yellow could be your go-to color.”

She tossed her long brown braid over her shoulder and met Maggie’s gaze in the rearview mirror, then her eyes darted to the baby just to be sure her girl was fine. It had taken Joanne and her husband, Michael, a long time to conceive and Maggie frequently caught her friend staring at her baby girl in wonder. She understood the feeling well.

“Yellow?” Maggie asked. “I don’t know if that color is always kind to redheads.”

“Just be thankful that your only issue is finding a dress. I’ve been reading up on international wedding customs and there are some doozies,” Claire said. “In Fiji, the groom must present his prospective father-in-law with a whale tooth. Biggest mammal going and it lives under water, how’s that for proving your love?”

“Sam is getting off easy,” Ginger said.

“There is also a tribal custom in northern Borneo where the newly married couples are required to be confined to their house while not going to the bathroom for three days and nights,” Claire said. “Now that’s commitment.”

“Suddenly, finding an appropriate dress does not seem as much of a challenge as it did a few minutes ago,” Maggie said. She grinned at her friend. “Thank you, Claire.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Claire said.

“How do you know all of these things?” Ginger asked. “It mystifies.”

“We information scientists are full of useful facts,” Claire said. “I know a few more unusual customs.”

“No, no, I think we’re good.” Ginger held up one hand. “I don’t want to ruin my lunch.”

“Can you drop me off at the station, Joanne?” Maggie said. “Sam and I have an appointment with Marcy Hayes.”

“No problem, what property are you looking at today?” Joanne asked.

Maggie glanced at her friends. She wondered how they were going to take the news. She could still hear her mother’s gasp of horror from when she’d spoken to her on the phone last night. Well, there wasn’t any way to sugarcoat it.

“The Dixon place,” she said.

The rest of the the Good Buy Girls looked at her with wide eyes. They wore matching expressions of disbelief and not the sort that meant they’d found a Louis Vuitton handbag in perfect condition at 75% off. Instead, they
looked as though they’d found an imitation Coach bag for sale but still priced at more than its retail value.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Maggie said. “My mother let me have it with both barrels last night.”

“That the place has been empty for over five years and there’s probably a family of skunks living in it,” Ginger said. Obviously, there was no warning her off of the subject.

“There are no varmints living in it,” Maggie said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Well how about the fact that the yard is so overgrown it’s begun to swallow up the neighborhood pets that stray too close to the picket fence, which is falling down,” Claire said.

“A landscaper was over there last week, making everything nice and tidy again,” Maggie said. “As far as I know, they found no carcasses of missing pets.”

Joanne didn’t say anything and Maggie met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Her friend looked worried.

“What is it, Joanne?” Maggie asked. “You may as well say your piece, too.”

“Nothing,” she said with a forced smile.

“You’re a terrible liar, Joanne,” Ginger said. “Go ahead and say it. We’re all thinking it.”

“I heard it’s haunted,” Joanne said. She clamped her lips together quickly as if by closing her mouth she could disassociate herself from her own words.

“That’s just a rumor,” Maggie said. “Of course people think it’s haunted. It’s been in the Dixon family for
generations with its last residents being two spinster sisters. I think that means it has a rich family history. I don’t think it means it’s haunted.”

They were all quiet as Joanne navigated the winding road back to town.

“Maybe,” Ginger said. “But are you willing to risk it?”

Chapter 2

Sam Collins was waiting outside the station when Joanne pulled up to let Maggie out. As always, Maggie’s heart beat a little faster at the sight of him. His brown hair was peppered with gray, and his bright blue eyes had crinkles in the corners, but he was still as big and strong as he had been when he was eighteen and Maggie was seventeen and they’d fallen in love the first time around.

More than twenty years and a lot of living had kept them apart but Sam had moved back to St. Stanley after retiring from the Richmond PD. He was sheriff for their small town and as circumstances had thrown them together over the past year and then some, he and Maggie
had discovered they had unfinished business. Now they were getting married. It boggled.

As Maggie climbed out of the car, Ginger quickly grabbed her and held her still. Then she took off the cross she always wore around her neck and pressed it into Maggie’s hand.

“Just in case,” Ginger said.

Maggie rolled her eyes but draped the necklace over her head to hang around her neck just to make her best friend since preschool happy.

“Text us,” Claire said. “ASAP.”

“Yes, anytime,” Joanne added. “You know I’m up all night.”

“It’ll be fine,” Maggie said. “But yes, I promise I’ll check in.”

She waved as the van pulled away. Sam joined her at the curb and gave her a quick hug.

“What’s up with the thrifty three?” he asked.

“Ghosts,” she said.

Sam frowned at her. “Whose?”

“Ours. They are concerned that we are looking at a haunted house,” Maggie said.

“The Dixon house?” he asked. “Nah, it just needs a little love, or possibly a wrecking ball.”

Maggie laughed. “I like your flexibility. Let’s not keep Marcy waiting. I swear she almost swooned when I told her we would look at it.”

“Did you tell her we were bringing a third opinion?” Sam asked.

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you,” Maggie said.

Sam smiled. He led Maggie to the car and opened the door. Curled up on the passenger seat waiting for them was Marshall Dillon, Sam’s cat, who was now their shared cat. A gray tabby with a distinctive stripe in the shape of an
M
on his forehead, he liked to ride around in Sam’s squad car and spent most of his days in the station. Maggie was pretty sure Sam would have deputized him if he could.

Maggie scooped Marshall Dillon up and then sat down, replacing him on her lap. Sam took the driver’s seat and they buckled up and headed over to the historic part of town.

The Dixon house was one of the oldest houses in St. Stanley. It wasn’t as big as some of the mansions on the street but it was a beautiful two-story Victorian with a wraparound porch and arch-shaped windows on the upper level. Maggie had always admired it and she had even occasionally daydreamed about having a place like this of her very own.

The grass was freshly mowed and the bushes had been trimmed back, but it still had an untamed air about it. The house badly needed a coat of fresh paint and the windows longed for some elbow grease but the bones were all there. Like any aging beauty, with a little upkeep, Maggie felt certain it would be spectacular again.

Sam pulled up in front of the house. Maggie carried Marshall Dillon to the front porch where Marcy Hayes was waiting.

Marcy was a very earnest woman, a single mom with two teenagers. She worked seven days a week doing
listings, showings and open houses, all in an effort to provide since her husband ran off with a woman half his age and was selfish enough to clean out their bank account on his way out of town.