A wedding dress. No mistaking that for seductive lingerie.
It was tucked inside a zippered plastic bag that had turned yellow with age and was cracked in several places. One of Eva’s friends in beauty school had bought a similar bag and had shared pictures of her stored wedding dress. Otherwise Eva might not have identified what she was looking at.
This dress looked more gray than white, and clearly it had been in the trunk a very long time. She hesitated to take the bag out for fear it would fall apart in her hands.
Nick peered into the trunk. “Doesn’t look like sexy lingerie to me.”
“It’s a wedding dress that’s been stored in this trunk for years. Which makes no sense because I know for a fact Winifred Barton was Miss Barton. She told me herself that she’d never been married.”
“Her mother’s?”
“Couldn’t be. They wouldn’t have had plastic storage bags when her mother got married.”
“Is that all that’s in there?”
“I doubt it. This is a deep trunk. But if I try to take the bag out, it’s liable to disintegrate, and then we’ll have a mess.”
“What if I move the trunk someplace where it won’t matter as much?”
“Good idea. Maybe to my enclosed back porch.” She put down the lid and got to her feet. “That’s where I planned to put the other stuff from the attic.”
He reached for the trunk.
“Hang on a sec. I’ve only cleaned a path to the washer and dryer. I don’t want to set it on a dusty floor.”
“Do you have anything to set it on?”
“I do. Be right back.” She walked quickly to a closet in the hall and returned with an old plastic shower curtain. “Now that I think about it, I’d rather sort through it on the front porch.”
He hoisted the trunk. “After you.”
She held the screen door while he maneuvered the trunk through sideways. Then she spread the shower curtain at the far end of the porch where a maple tree provided dappled shade. “I almost threw this curtain away. Glad I didn’t.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“It used to hang over the claw-foot tub in my bathroom. It’s one of the few things I didn’t like when I moved in. The tub’s gorgeous and deserves a quality curtain. It’s on my list.”
“There’s a claw-foot tub in there?” He positioned the trunk on the far side of the curtain.
“You didn’t see it?”
“No, ma’am. Was a bit distracted.”
“You should check it out next time you go upstairs. It’s a beauty.” She stepped onto the shower curtain and lifted the trunk lid.
“Want me to pull the bag out for you?”
“Thanks, but I can do it.” Sliding her hands down the sides of the bag, she located the seam at the bottom and tucked her hand under it. “I’m feeling cardboard underneath.”
“A box?”
“Maybe several.” Scooping up the scratchy bundle of compromised plastic, she lifted the bag, eased it over the edge of the trunk and lowered it to the shower curtain.
“Are you sure that’s a wedding dress? It doesn’t look white.”
“It’s white in the folds. I’ll show you.” She tried to open the bag, but the zipper was stuck. Instead she pried apart the cracked plastic on the top and pulled out a section of the dress’s dingy skirt. “See the white in the creases? Heat, dust and chemicals from the plastic have done a job on the fabric.”
“That’s too bad. Someone wanted to preserve it.” He walked around to the side of the trunk. “I’ll bet you’ll find out who the dress belonged to if you go through whatever’s in those boxes.”
Leaning over the bagged dress, she peeked into the trunk. Storage boxes of various sizes lined the bottom. A shoe box likely contained shoes to go with the dress. The rest were of various dimensions, some with flowered lids.
She glanced up, tempted to ask him to help her go through the boxes looking for clues about the wedding dress. That would make it more fun. It would also be a bad allocation of resources.
Time to activate her primary reason for bidding on him. “Ready to get the rest of the boxes down?”
“Absolutely. You said they go on the back porch?”
“Yes, please. It’s through a door at the end of the hall. You might want to prop it open before you start.”
“Alrighty.”
“And watch your head coming out of the attic.”
He grinned. “Might be worth it to bang up the other side.”
“Nick!”
He laughed and started for the door. “Just kidding.” He opened the screen and paused. “I can think of much better ways to steal a kiss.” Ducking inside the house, he pulled the door closed.
A couple of seconds later, his boots hit the stairs, creating a staccato beat as he charged up to the second floor. Clearly he hadn’t taken her suggestion about propping open the door to the back porch.
She shrugged. Reaching into the trunk, she pulled out the shoe box, popped off the lid and took out one of the snowy white satin pumps. Because they’d been insulated by the dress and protected by a layer of cardboard, they’d kept their color. A quick inspection of the soles confirmed they’d never been worn.
Her chest tightened. If the shoes hadn’t been worn, then neither had the dress. Could it have been Miss Barton’s? If she’d never worn it, her statement that she’d never been married would hold true.
Gripped by foreboding, she put the shoe in the box, closed the lid and set it aside. The trunk contained another eight boxes. Which one held the answer? And did she want to know what it was?
Maybe not, but she couldn’t stop now. She pulled out a square one and found a small picture album with snapshots in plastic sleeves. Nobody put together this kind of album anymore.
The plastic had done a number on the pictures, but the two people in them were clearly in love. In some the guy wore an Army uniform. Was that Winifred Barton with him? She squinted at the face. Maybe. Tough to match this twenty-something woman with Miss Barton.
Laying the album beside her, she reached for one that looked like a stationery box. Wedding invitations? It was about two inches thick and light. Empty?
Not completely. One invitation remained. Evidently the rest had been mailed. Mr. and Mrs. Edward Barton request your presence at the wedding of their daughter, Winifred Jennifer Barton to Gerald Wesley Sutherland, Junior, son of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Wesley Sutherland, Senior. The ceremony will be held on…
She noted the date and made a quick calculation. The contents of the trunk had been sitting in the uninsulated attic for more than seventy years. No wonder the plastic was compromised.
Those two in the album had been Winifred and Gerald, engaged to be married. But judging from the evidence, the wedding had been cancelled.
She returned the invitation to the box and reached for another, thinner one. It had a flowered lid and was tied in a bow with a black ribbon. She pulled gently on one end and the bow came undone. Maybe the black ribbon didn’t mean what she feared it did.
The official seal on the letter and the date two weeks before the wedding explained it all. We regret to inform you…
She put the box back, scrambled to her feet and hurried to the door. Flinging it open, she stepped inside. “Nick? Nick, where are you?”
“On my way down!” he called back. “What do you need?”
“I have something to tell you.” She shifted her weight back and forth as she waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to appear.
He rounded the curve, a wooden crate clutched in his gloved hands, his T-shirt damp with sweat. He paused. “Is there a problem?”
“Where did you get gloves?”
“Fetched them from my truck a little while ago.” He continued down the stairs. “You seemed really involved, so I just went on by without saying anything. What did you need to tell me?”
“That’s Miss Barton’s dress. Her fiancé died two weeks before their wedding.”
“Oh, no.” He set down the crate at the bottom of the stairs and took off his gloves. “That’s awful.” Shoving the gloves in his back pocket, he came toward her. “What happened?”
“He was in the Army. Died in the line of duty. His name was Gerald.”
“Poor woman.”
“I had no idea. I thought she’d chosen her single life and relished her free-wheeling sexual adventures.”
“That second part could still be true.”
“I hope it was. But what a blow, to be anticipating a life with someone you love and then to have that dream snatched away.” She drifted closer, craving his comforting warmth. “I guess it’s silly for me to be so sad for her. It happened years ago.”
“It’s not silly. She was your friend.”
She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
His gaze gentled. “Come here.” Reaching out, he gathered her into his arms.
With a sigh, she hugged him back and nestled her cheek against his solid chest. “I just—”
“I know. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“It makes sense that she gave everything to organizations that help vets, though.”
“Sure does.”
The deep rumble of his voice soothed her. He held her just right, too, giving firm support without crushing the breath out of her. “You’re a good hugger.”
“Thank you.”
This was nice, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t get better. She lifted her head. “You know that kiss that was interrupted by the ice pack?”
He smiled. “I have a vague memory of it.”
“Think we could try it one more time?”
“It would be my pleasure.”