The Wedding Must Go On (12 page)

‘W
HAT’S
happened? What’s wrong?’

Roxy heard Nate’s question. She tried to focus. But she simply couldn’t.

A state of total shock. That was it. The world around her was receding. External noise was muffled, far away, unimportant. Her brow was damp and her head felt dangerously light. This couldn’t be real. Not when things were beginning to come together for everyone.

Over a desert-dry throat, she rasped, ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Believe what?’

His grip on her shoulders tightened until the pressure points of each fingertip made her wince and she swam up from her daze.

‘It’s all gone bad.’

‘For God’s sake, Roxy, tell me. I’ll fix whatever it is.’

A wave of dizziness whirled around her head and she slumped. ‘I was too complacent. I should never have left.’

He inhaled slowly. ‘Okay. From the beginning, tell me what happened.’

She met his intense gaze at the same time the churning in her stomach grew and crawled up to her throat. Lord, she was going to be sick. ‘I need to get back to Sydney.’

‘Come again?’

‘The shop was burgled last night. They took near all
my accessories and trashed some gowns.’ Hearing herself explain out loud made it all somehow real. More frightening. Repercussions were beginning to dawn.

‘You don’t have security?’ he was asking.

‘I cancelled when mounting bills got too much.’

‘You must have insurance.’

‘Some, but the premiums companies charge these days … some ask for more than I earn.’

He scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘It’s a blow, but you’ll get over it. You have to stay strong. Focused.’

Yes. She should. Only one problem. She was numb and couldn’t,
couldn’t
, feel any other way.

He started to pace the room.

‘Surely you still have customers—what about Ava and Violet, for instance?’

‘They don’t want the gown.’

He stopped dead. ‘But they both loved that dress.’

‘Violet found another one she loved more. Cindy said she was happy to leave half the deposit to compensate for the inconvenience. When Cindy tried to argue, Violet mentioned her daddy was a litigator.’ She dragged her watery gaze up from the worn rug. ‘I can’t take a lawyer’s daughter to court over a deposit, especially now.’

‘Half a deposit’s better than none,’ he reasoned. ‘And you have those other two gowns as good as sold, right?’

Nausea made her mouth water. Swallowing, Roxy shook her head. ‘Yes. And no. Cindy got the deposits. Unfortunately, those gowns were ruined in the break-in.’

‘Roxy, if you need money, I can help. You don’t have to pay me back.’ She imagined him drawing out a mental cheque book. ‘How much do you need?’

‘I don’t want your money.’

‘I can afford it. I’ve invested well over the years—’

‘I’m not a charity case, particularly after.’

Her words trailed off, her gaze dropped and a heartbeat later he coughed out a humourless laugh.

‘I’m not offering you money because we
slept
together, if that’s what you think.’

‘Would you offer if we hadn’t?’

He frowned. ‘That’s … not a fair question.’ Who said anything about being fair?

‘I appreciate the sentiment,’ she said, bringing her case out from the cupboard, ‘but I only want to get home. If you can organize something in a hurry, I’d be grateful.’

T
HE
next morning, Roxy walked into her shop, feeling as if she’d been away an eternity. The place was a mess. Some rows of gowns remained unsoiled, hanging pristine as she’d left them. One end of the glass counter was still intact, with sparkling accessories adorning clean satin beds. Nearer to the door, however, the glass was smashed and jewellery as well as other trimmings had been removed. To her soul, Roxy felt violated.

Making sure the sign read ‘closed’, she shut the door and demanded both rubbery legs carry her forward.

Her work. Her life. She dragged her gaze around as her stomach sank and her throat grew thick. How could people do this? She’d worked so hard and now she was as good as ruined. She’d have been better off working for a chain store stacking shelves. No risk involved there. No worry about overhead bills. No need to start again.

The salon’s back door swung open and stylish tufts of blonde poked through. Cindy’s expression brightened when she saw her company, but the smile wilted as her gaze swept the outside room.

‘After the police left, I cleaned up best I could,’ Cindy said, edging forward, her hands clasped tight before her.

And beyond her own grief and sense of despair, Roxy noticed her cousin’s puffy eyes and realized she’d been
crying. She reached for Cindy’s hand, squeezed, and the younger woman’s dark blue eyes brimmed.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Cindy said. ‘You left me in charge and I let you down.’

‘This isn’t
your
fault. It’s not anyone’s,’ Roxy grunted, ‘except the brainless jerks who broke in.’

A tear slid down Cindy’s cheek and Roxy drew her close for a big ‘please don’t worry’ hug. When she was certain her cousin was okay, she patted her back a final time, then crossed to drift around the various racks, trying to piece together what was missing, what had been destroyed.

‘I didn’t think you’d want to open today,’ Cindy said, ‘so I kept the closed sign on the door.’

Roxy nodded but refrained from mentioning that, most likely, she wouldn’t open again.

‘You go home and take your mind off this.’ Roxy crossed to the unharmed end of the counter. ‘I have some phone calls to make.’

‘I can help. Organize dry-cleaning, or put in orders for new jewellery.’

The burn of raw emotion backed up higher, pushing and demanding release. But Roxy bit down, held back. She didn’t want to upset Cindy more than she already was. Besides, what good would tears do?

‘Thanks.’ She ran a hand over the counter. ‘But I don’t have the money for that.’

‘Oh.’ Cindy’s petite shoulders stooped. ‘Then what are you going to do?’

‘At this point …’ Roxy sighed. ‘I don’t really know.’

After Cindy reluctantly collected her bag and, with another heartfelt hug, said goodbye—she’d be in touch—Roxy stood behind the battered counter for a torturously long while, hoping that over-exposure might desensitize her pain. Didn’t work. It seemed unreal that this time yesterday,
she’d been floating on her own private cloud, horse-riding through a vast ancient wonderland. Lying in that field of flowers, she’d felt completely content. Blissfully satisfied.

Now …?

Rounding the counter, she entered the back room. In the far corner, Marla’s contest dress hung high and safe, covered in light plastic. Roxy’s heart lifted a little and a tiny smile hooked one corner of her mouth. At least she still had her dream dress. Although now, frankly, she had no idea what to do with it.

Give it away? Keep it for posterity?

She came closer and ran her fingertips over the plastic, remembering how divine the satin had felt against her skin that day. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d thought it had fitted her better than Marla. Nate liked this gown too. He’d seemed certain it would do well in that contest.

She slid the gown off the rack, eased the petal-soft folds out of their cover. The beading seemed to smile up at her, telling her everything would be all right. As much as she wanted to believe, Roxy couldn’t see that happening …

But she wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing.

Steeling herself, Roxy put on a pot of coffee, got out the vacuum. A bucket and mop too. Needing inspiration, she slipped the contest gown over a mannequin in the main room, then set to work.

An hour later, she was sudsing up the mop when the bell above the door sounded. Curious, Roxy angled around. She was certain the sign on the door had been flipped to ‘closed’.

Setting the mop aside, she came forward as a woman in her early twenties, with fire-red hair and several tattoos scaling the length of one arm and shoulder, sauntered in, looked around.

Smiling, Roxy wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re not open for business.’

‘I heard.’ The younger woman headed towards the nearest rack and fingered some skirts. ‘Your place got trashed.’

Roxy flinched at the word. ‘That’s right.’ She frowned. ‘How do you know?’

The woman flashed a wide grin that highlighted two front teeth with a gap you could stick a finger through. ‘Police cars were parked outside yesterday. They were asking questions.’ She sauntered around and fingered some more. ‘I figured you might have a sale to get rid of damaged stock.’

‘I really hadn’t thought that far ahead. Right now I’m busy cleaning up and—’ The woman was wandering towards the contest gown. Roxy sped forward. ‘That one’s for display only.’

‘Wow … it’s so beautiful. Teddy’s eyes would fall clean out his head if I wore this.’

Roxy didn’t want to be rude so she asked, ‘Teddy’s your boyfriend?’

‘Fiancé. He proposed a few weeks ago. His folks live here. Mine’ll drive down from Dalby.’

‘I’m sure it will be a lovely day.’

‘I’ve left off getting a dress. They’re all so expensive.’

Roxy moved to stand a little in front of her gown. ‘A lot of work goes into making a wedding dress.’ A lot of hard work and affection.

‘My sister said I could lend hers at a pinch. You know … something borrowed.’ She studied the gown again, up and down and again, three times. ‘So, you’re not having a sale?’

‘Not at this time.’

‘You hire out?’

‘I can recommend places that do.’

‘I only have a week and a bit to get something organized if I don’t want to borrow my sister’s.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find something wond-er …’ That last word stuttered and trailed as a cog in her brain clicked into place. Roxy cocked her head. ‘What date is your wedding?’

‘We didn’t know whether to book Saturday or Sunday. Teddy’s partial to Sunday. His family are religious.’

Sunday. The first of next month
.

Roxy let out that breath and swept that crazy thought about slipping into that contest after all aside. ‘Sunday weddings are lovely,’ she made herself say.

‘Except I insisted on Saturday. No sore heads at work the next day.’ That gappy smile flashed again. ‘So it’s set. The thirty-first. The end of this month.’

N
ATE
was pleasantly surprised when Roxy called and wanted to be filled in about arrangements for his parents’ anniversary party. He said he could collect her at seven. He arrived at her house five minutes early. When she opened her door, looking incredible the way she always did, to say he was bowled over was a huge understatement.

Her gown was a shimmery silver that hugged rather than clung to her curves. Thin straps, low back, hair thrown up in a messy yet sophisticated style that not only left the elegant column of her neck deliciously available but also took her glamorous look to a whole other level.

She greeted him with a friendly smile and offered her cheek for a kiss. If only she knew how his brain had fogged up at the minute, she might have hidden behind the door for fear he’d carry her away and never bring her back.

Her arm linked through his, he escorted her down the path. The black leather interior of his sports car was a perfect foil for her dress.

‘I’m glad you decided to come tonight,’ he said, swerving the car from the kerb.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’ In the shadows, she shot him a glance. ‘I was looking forward to seeing you again too.’

His heart beating faster, he changed up gears. ‘Have you heard from Marla?’

‘Not yet. Any word from Greg?’ He shook his head and veered onto a road heading east. ‘I’m sure she’ll contact me before she heads off to California.’

As he routinely checked the rear-view mirror he nodded. Marla and Greg had made their decisions with regard to relationships as well as to work. He was disappointed Greg had chosen his father’s firm over their fledgling enterprise. Then again, he understood. If his father had built a successful company, no doubt he’d be more than happy to take over the legacy, even if it meant compromising a little.

They’d done all they could for their friends. Now Nate was interested to hear what was going down in Roxy’s life. Last he’d seen her, saying goodbye at the airport when she’d insisted taking her own cab to her shop, she’d been glassy-eyed. Shell-shocked. Tonight anyone would think she hadn’t a care in the world.

‘What about you?’ he asked, telling himself to keep his eyes on the road, not on the shape of her legs through the skirt of that satin gown. ‘How’s the shop?’

He heard her sigh. ‘I was devastated walking in. Cindy had cleaned up as best she could. I’ve spoken with the police but they have no leads and, without surveillance cameras, they don’t hold much hope of tracking anyone down.’

‘It’s lucky Cindy wasn’t in the shop at the time.’ His grip tightened on the wheel. ‘Or you, if we hadn’t been away.’

‘I thought the same.’

He waited a few beats. He didn’t want to pry or bring down her mood. By the same token, they were only a few minutes away from his parents’ house now. They’d have no privacy once they were through the property gates and among the revellers. He needed to know.

‘Your gown … was it okay?’

‘It was still there.’

‘Not destroyed?’

‘It was safely hung in the back room. Every bead is in place.’

‘You must have been relieved.’ He knew he felt relieved for her.

‘After I sent Cindy home, I decided to clean up some more. I brought the gown out and fitted it on my favourite mannequin.’

‘You have a favourite mannequin?’

‘You’d have a favourite car or screwdriver, or whatever. I have a favourite life-size doll.’

He swung the car into his parents’ street. A moment later, the estate gates appeared, as well as strings of different-coloured party lights. He could almost feel the vibration from a blaring sound system through the tyres.

He prodded. ‘You put the dress on the mannequin, and …’

‘I had a visitor—a woman who knew about the break and enter.’

His head snapped around. ‘She knew who was behind it?’

‘No. She saw the police the day before and enquired. She thought I might have a sale scheduled to shift damaged stock.’

He pressed a remote and the soaring gates opened. The uniformed man at the bottom of the long wide drive tipped his hat and waved them on. A giant marquee had been erected one side of the house. Guests were dancing, drinking, talking. He slowed the car down to a crawl.

‘So, this woman,’ he said, ‘she was after something inexpensive.’

‘I’m guessing she wasn’t flush with money. She’d have loved to wear any one of the dresses.’

Nate swerved into the covered forecourt and uniformed
help swept up to park the car. When her door was opened, Roxy alighted and surrendered a long low whistle.

‘Your mother’s relative must have been loaded.’ He’d told her the story about the inheritance. She cocked her head to take in the full length and height of the house. ‘Nice mansion. Georgian style, yes?’

‘A little over the top for my tastes,’ he said, having eased out of the low-slung vehicle to stand in the fresh air too. They met at the front of the car where he straightened his black bow tie, then took her hand.

‘This woman,’ he said as they headed down a path lit either side by lakes of fairy lights, ‘did she find a dress?’

‘She didn’t find a dress. She found
the
dress.’

‘Ah.
Your
dress.’

‘She fell in love with it. And guess when she’s getting married.’

‘Before the end of the month?’

‘The thirty-first. I thought it had to be a sign.’

‘That you should give this woman your gown and reinstate yourself in that contest?’

‘With a nip here and there, it would fit her perfectly.’

The marquee entrance was a few strides away. People milling outside were studying the new arrivals. Word would spread like wildfire and any minute his parents would descend.

‘Did she pay cash? Leave a deposit?’ Enough to get Roxy back on her feet?

‘I told her she couldn’t have it.’

The sound of crystal flutes tinkling and occasional bursts of laughter seemed to suddenly grow louder. He pulled up so sharply, he jerked her arm. Had he heard right?

‘You told her
what
?’

‘I said no.’

Somehow he stifled a curse. If Roxy had driven him crazy before, this took the proverbial. She was being sentimental and she couldn’t afford that luxury.

‘I know you feel attached to that dress,’ he said in a remarkably calm tone, ‘but can’t you put that aside to have a shot at something bigger?’

She laid a hand on his jacket sleeve. ‘Can we talk about this later?’

He wanted to say no, he wanted to talk about it now. But she’d had a bad knock, and who was he to say what she ought to do from this point on? He was only the guy who couldn’t stop thinking about her. Who’d kissed her, made love to her and wanted to again very much. When she’d phoned, he’d fought the urge not to jump in his car and speed over to see her straight away, but she’d been so distant since receiving news about that break-in. Although he wanted to support her, the bigger issue was not to crowd her. If she’d wanted to see him earlier, she’d have said.

So he’d shown some restraint, even containing himself when her lips had brushed his cheek in greeting tonight. All he asked was to know what she’d decided with regard to that gown, her salon. Whether she was ploughing on or shooting off in another direction.

Like, maybe to California with Marla.

Whatever she decided, he had no control. She wouldn’t take a handout, wouldn’t take him up on that offer to help get that dress back in its contest. He’d half thought about devising some plan to somehow work his way around one or the other of those options. But she didn’t like him being creative where finding solutions was concerned. He’d simply have to put his faith in her choices. It wasn’t as if they were a couple. Not a
real
one. Although tonight, he certainly felt proud having her walk alongside him.

In fact, he ought to simply enjoy the evening. Forget about the future. Have some fun as they had out west.

When Roxy changed the subject and said, ‘Tell me more about these anniversary nights,’ he put aside those other thoughts and concentrated on this evening.

‘As you know, my parents’ wedding anniversary has always been a big deal,’ he said as they moved closer to the marquee, the borders of which were lit by flaming torches. Along the back stone wall, small groups gazed out over a harbour view, which included an illuminated coat-hanger bridge and iconic Opera House shells.

‘Even when we were living on a shoestring,’ he said, ‘at anniversary time my parents managed to find money for a cake and gifts for each of us kids.’

‘For the
children
?’

‘All five of us.’

Her expression melted. ‘That is
such
a beautiful thought.’

He spotted a middle-age pair trundling towards them and shored himself up. ‘Here’s the happy couple now.’

‘Nate!’

His mother sailed up, looking like a diva in a stylish black satin trouser suit. She clenched his face between her bejewelled hands and brought him down to plant a rouged kiss smack on his lips. His father, as usual, was a step behind, looking debonair in a tux with a shimmering gold tie—clearly his mother’s touch.

His mother gave her son a ‘who’s a naughty boy?’ look. ‘You should introduce us to this gorgeous woman, Nate, dear.’

‘Roxanne Trammel, this is my mother, Judith, my father, Lewis.’

True to form, his mother brought Roxy close and gave her one of her famous python hugs.

Looking pleased too, behind his groomed silver beard,
his father smiled his eternally patient smile. ‘Great to see you here, Roxanne. I’m glad he finally brought you home to meet us.’

Roxy was still recovering from the hug. ‘It’s lovely to meet you both too.’

Yes, his parents were sweet and wonderful—cloyingly so. At some point Roxy was bound to hear what a great catch he’d make and how eligible he was. As if he couldn’t pick his own wife.

Which wasn’t the reason behind bringing Roxy here tonight at all.

Hands laced before him, his father said, ‘I believe you design wedding gowns.’

‘Do you design other formal gowns?’ his mother asked, taking in Roxy’s dress. ‘The one you’re wearing is exquisite. It is your creation?’

‘Thank you,’ Roxy said. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘You should get your label on some catwalks,’ his mother said.

‘Unfortunately,’ Roxy said, ‘it’s not as easy as all that.’

‘Well, I’m going to pop down to your shop next week,’ his mother went on, ‘if you have something that will suit a woman my age, that is.’

‘A person your age.’ His father chortled. ‘You’re a classic beauty. Women twenty years younger don’t compare.’

His mother cupped her husband’s cheek. ‘And people wonder why I married him.’

Nate noticed that Roxy didn’t endorse his mother’s suggestion to drop by the shop. Nor did she reject it, giving no clue as to whether she intended to carry on with The Perfect Dress or walk away.

‘Do have some champagne and stay as long as you want,’ his mother said a moment before her focus was diverted and she headed off. ‘Oh, there’s the Davidsons.’

‘Have fun, kids.’ His father winked and, following his wife, dissolved into the growing crowd of glittering guests.

A brow arched, Nate scratched his temple. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘I think you’re very lucky. And they’re lucky to have one another.’

Nate absorbed her sober tone, the sincerity sparkling in her eyes, and for the first time in his life he didn’t wisecrack about his parents being joined at the hip or inwardly wish they weren’t so damn saccharine and inseparable. Rather he recognized a shift at his deepest level. No one’s childhood was perfect but if he had to do it over, he’d choose the same parents. The same memories.

Just as he wouldn’t swap any of the memories he’d created with Roxy.

As he found them both a glass of champagne and she glanced around, her hips moving slightly to the music, the tightness in Nate’s chest eased. The big introduction had gone well—neither parent had asked when the wedding would be, jokingly or not—and Roxy seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere. Was it that amazing dress or had she grown that much more beautiful these past days? She’d always been attractive in a unique way, but tonight her lips seemed fuller, her hair was shinier. Her subtle powdery scent was nothing short of drugging.

He raised his glass and made a toast.

‘To the most beautiful woman here tonight. I second my mother’s words. That dress is stunning.’ Over the crystal rim, he murmured, ‘You’re stunning.’

An expression filtered over her face. A combination of pleasant surprise, appreciation … and something else. Something that made him half wish he were ready for ‘serious’.

His attention skated to the dance floor and he made an executive decision. ‘Let’s dance.’

Swallowing a mouthful of champagne hard, she lowered her flute. ‘Already?’ Her gaze shot to the dance floor and the three couples gyrating to a seventies tune. ‘Let’s wait till more people are up.’

He removed the glass from her hand, set both on a passing waiter’s tray and took her hand. ‘I want to dance with you, Roxy.’ Coming close, he nuzzled against her ear and a breath of heat blew through his blood. ‘Aren’t you curious to see how well we move together, swirling around without the water?’

She darted around a culpable look. ‘You’ll make me blush.’

He laughed. ‘I hope so.’

Without giving her a chance to object again, he ushered her through waves of people to the floor, which was set outside beneath a blanket of twinkling stars. As they moved onto the temporary decking the song finished, the previously dancing couples wandered off and a slower, more intimate tune began to play.

Looking around, she nibbled her lower lip. ‘Can’t we do this later?’

‘Like we’ll talk more about that dress later?’

Words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to broach that subject yet. So she allowed him to curve a palm around her back and let him fold her right hand in his left. At the same time they began to move the main lights faded and a laser show, resembling softly falling confetti, filtered over the scene. Looking so masterful and handsome, Nate brought her deliciously near and soon the crowd seemed to fade as well.