Little Black Dress with Bonus Material (16 page)

“What the dress had meant?” she repeated and squinted at me, looking deeply into my face, into my soul. “Don't tell me you wore it? Did it show you dreams of your own?”

“Yes,” I admitted, finally relieved of the burden of keeping the secret. “I've had visions, too.”

“You!” She let out a sharp laugh. “Reasonable, rational Evelyn Alice has witnessed the power of the black dress,” she said as though it were impossible. “And I was sure you'd gotten rid of it long ago!”

“I tried, but it wouldn't let me, and I don't know whether to be sorry or grateful.” The tears I'd been resisting finally won, slipping past my lashes, sliding fast down my cheeks.

“So you still have it?”

“Yes,” I croaked, and suddenly I was the weak one and she was my strength.

“My poor darling! How confusing it must have been for you! And no one who understood around to talk to. You didn't tell your husband, did you? Or, God forbid, Daddy?”

“No one,” I confessed, the pain of the secret eating at me.

“Oh, sweet girl.” Her arms wrapped around me, and I set my cheek against the softness of her hair. “It's a shock at first, isn't it? But once you see your destiny, it's impossible to ignore.”

It was true.

Anna knew. She'd been there before.

I thought of my most recent vision, of Annabelle beside me and an infant in my arms, and I forced my eyes closed, focusing solely on the child's face. She had dark hair and bowed lips that so reminded me of Anna. When I'd miscarried, I had feared the dress had been wrong. Only now I realized it was I who'd been mistaken. What it had shown me was not my baby, but my sister's.

“I was so sure what it meant this last time,” I murmured. “I was cradling a newborn. I thought she was mine. But she isn't, is she?”

I raised my head, and Anna took my face in her hands. She looked up at me so earnestly. “This baby in my belly, her name is Antonia, and she is the reason for everything.”

“You are so lucky, so very lucky,” I sobbed, and the tears fell so hard and fast that I found it difficult to breathe. “Jon and I have tried and tried, but my body wasn't able to carry—”

I couldn't say more. It was too hard, the loss still too real.

“You are brave,” my sister said.

“No, I'm not.” I shook my head, pressing my lips together hard to quell their trembling. Because if there was anything I lacked at the moment it was courage. My spine felt about as strong as a jellyfish's. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball.

“It's okay,” Anna said and hugged me close again before leading me back to the settee. “It'll be all right. Everything will soon be as it should be. It's all falling into place, don't you see?”

Falling into place?

How could she say such a thing, how could she sit beside me and tell me that when I'd done all that was expected of me, and she was the one who carried a child? What kind of God would reward her and punish me? I had always been the good daughter, the good sister, the reliable one. Why should Anna get something so precious when I could not?

“Tell me, Evie,” she egged me on, “tell me how you feel. Let it out. You've always been so buttoned up that I'm surprised you haven't burst into a million tiny pieces.”

I didn't want to share the pain about the baby I'd just miscarried—and the ones before it—but it spilled out regardless. She sat quietly, listening to my outpouring as I relived each loss and let go of the anguish I'd kept trapped inside.

When I ran out of words and my gut-wrenching sobs had stilled, Anna smiled and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Then she looked into my face, that wild light back in her eyes. “All is not lost, dear Evie,” she said. “It's why I've come, don't you see? I have the most wonderful gift for you.”

Very deliberately, she took my hand and placed my palm flush against her belly. The curve was small but firm, and I could feel it well enough. A frisson of energy shot up my spine, though whether from excitement, fear, or confusion I wasn't sure.

“Antonia must grow up in Blue Hills with you, not running around the world with a vagabond mother who can't seem to stay in one place longer than a few months. It's the only way.”

I barely heard her words. I'd closed my eyes and focused on the curve of her flesh beneath her dress, easily imagining the baby curled within.

Antonia, Antonia,
I ran the name through my head over and over, until I was dizzy with it. My little sister was going to have a child, one who could grow up with a family and roots that went deep into the earth around her.

“Where's her father?” I asked. Surely he couldn't be pleased Anna was here in Missouri instead of with him, wherever he might be.

Anna's pretty face closed off, and I noticed the lines at her mouth that were permanent; circles beneath her eyes that seemed deeper than they should be for someone so young. Maybe her free-spirited life wasn't as carefree as she wanted me to believe. She may have suffered, too, in ways I couldn't imagine.

“Antonia has no father, not one that wants her anyhow. The only parents she'll need live right here,” she assured me as she looked around the room.

I felt sure she was joking. “You don't mean you'd give her up to us?”

“I do,” she said with such honesty that I nearly believed her. “Haven't you been listening? I trust you, Evie, more than anyone in the world. You are the most level-headed and responsible woman. All things I am not. All things a daughter needs from her mother. Things I can never be.”

Those words. I'd heard them before in the vision. She had said that very thing. This was crazy.
She
was crazy. The question was if I was crazy, too, enough to buy into what Anna was suggesting.

I felt light-headed as my brain came to grips with the breadth and depth of her intentions. “Don't you love her?” Because I couldn't imagine not wanting a baby when it was, in fact, what I craved beyond anything else.

“I will always love her,” she said and put an arm around my waist, hugging me, “but you are meant to be her mother.”

“This is wrong, Annabelle.”

“Is it really? How so?”

I could conjure up plenty of answers to that question, both moral and rational; but I only ended up sighing and telling her, “I don't know.”

“Ah, but you'll realize I'm right soon enough.”

She squeezed me tightly, and, for an instant, I felt close to her, like she had never left. A part of me wished that we could stay that way forever.

If only the dress had not come between us again.

G
reg's Volvo sat smack-dab in front of the Victorian when Toni arrived home from the hospital and pulled in behind it. The sun had shone all afternoon, melting the snow that had topped the shrubbery for days, the remaining patches of white looking a lot like Old Man Winter's bad toupee.

Between the pristine blue sky and the brightness that warmed her through the windshield, Toni was almost fooled into thinking spring might be making an early appearance. Until she got out of her car and the wind rushed around her, rubbing her cheeks raw with its frigid breath.

Nope, it was still January.

Clutching her knapsack, she raced up the porch steps to the door and jammed her key in the lock, turning it hard till it clicked. With a happy sigh, she pushed inside, stepping into the warmth of the foyer, where she promptly ran into Greg pacing and talking loudly into his PDA.

“So I'll see you at the meeting?” he was saying and held up a finger when she shut the door and walked toward him. “Yeah, eight o'clock sharp. You bring the doughnuts, and I'll bring the Pepto. Ha ha. You've updated the PowerPoint with the files I e-mailed, right? You're the man. Ha ha.”

He had on his tailored wool coat, snugly buttoned to his chin. His overnight bag sat on the bottom step, zipped and ready to go. She hadn't known that he'd planned to depart before supper; but instead of feeling insulted, Toni was relieved he didn't mean to stick around. Something was happening to her, and she needed to be here in this house without him. It wasn't anything that would've made sense to a logical man like Greg, so she was glad she didn't have to stumble through an explanation.

“All right then, I'll see you in the morning,” Greg said and finally stopped giving her the finger (index, not middle) as he ended his call.

Toni plastered on a pleasant smile and said, “Hey,” turning her cheek to him for a kiss while she tugged off her coat. “Did you miss me?”

“Your timing is perfect,” he replied and pulled on his gloves as she yanked hers off. “I need to hit the road, but I didn't want to leave until you got here.”

“I had no clue you'd be going so soon,” she remarked earnestly, wondering if her grumpy attitude last night had anything to do with it, or maybe it was the weird vibes between her and Hunter Cummings. “Was that Steve?”

Steven Berman was Greg's partner in his CPA firm and his oldest friend.

“Yep, that was Stevie, getting all our ducks in a row for the big staff meeting tomorrow,” he explained as he stuffed his cell into one pocket then pulled his keys from the other. “I know everyone's still got their holiday hangover, but tax season's already ramping up. We've got to get our battle plans drawn.”

“So we'll do the two ships that pass in the night thing, huh? Except more like two ships that pass before dinner,” she joked but Greg merely squinted at her. “Sure you can't stay and eat leftover meat loaf?”

“Wish I could, but duty calls.” He rubbed gloved hands together. “I've got some loose ends to tie up before morning. Besides, if you're going to spend hours at the hospital so you can hang out with your mom, it seems stupid for me to stick around doing busy work.”

Ah, so that's it,
she realized. He'd driven all the way down so he'd expected her full attention every minute he was with her. He hadn't imagined she'd ignore him, leaving him alone for hours on end while she visited with Evie in the ICU.

“My mother's doing fine, thanks,” she told him, a tad stiffly; but she'd given about all that she could give of herself. If he wanted more, she was tapped out.

“Yes, of course I hope she's okay, or as okay as someone in a drug-induced coma can be.” His clean-shaven cheeks flushed before he turned away to snatch up his carryall. “Is there any change?”

“Not really,” she told him without elaborating, because there was nothing to elaborate on. Evie's condition was no different from when Toni had arrived in Blue Hills two days ago.

“Will they take her off the ventilator soon?” He pushed at the cowlick on his forehead, and she spotted flakes of dandruff in his hair.

“As soon as she's ready,” Toni replied, not sure what that meant exactly. “But I'll stay until they do. I won't leave.”

Greg shifted on his loafers, his long face fraught with concern. “Just how long can Engagements by Antonia survive without you? I know you trust Vivien, but you're the captain of that ship, no matter how good your first mate is.”

She shrugged, walking him to the door. “I doubt it'll run aground in a few days or even a week. I've been keeping up on my BlackBerry and the laptop. So we're in good shape,” she told him, even though she'd been worrying about the same thing. Her business was the only child she'd birthed and raised, and she'd put it first for so long she'd almost forgotten it wasn't a real baby.

His bespectacled eyes studied her. “Are you sure about this? You don't have to stick around out of guilt. The doctor can call you in St. Louis when they're ready to make any changes.”

“Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine,” she said and jerked on the brass handle to crack open the door. “So have a safe drive and call me when you get in.”

“Will do.” He paused beside her and smiled, revealing a bit of celery from Bridget's chicken salad stuck in his teeth. “Just think, when you come back, it'll be to move in with me. Won't it be great to live in one place instead of running back and forth all the time?”

Toni had been waiting for him to bring that up since he'd arrived last night. The only surprise was that it had taken him so long to say it.

She made a small “umm” noise and quickly changed the subject. “You sure you didn't forget anything?”

“No, I mean, yes, I'm sure that
I
didn't. But, um, I think you did.” He stuck a hand inside his coat and pulled something out. “This was in the pocket of my blue button-down. I assume it's yours.”

It was the photograph of Evie and Anna that she'd found in the attic.

“Oh, God!” Her heart skidded as she caught her breath. “Yes, thanks.” She took it from him and pressed it to her chest before sticking it in the back pocket of her jeans. She would have cried if she'd lost it.

“So it's important?”

“It is.” More important than he knew.

“Then I guess it's good-bye until I see you again, whenever that'll be.” He bent in for a kiss, and Toni didn't even close her eyes as their lips locked. She wanted so badly to feel something more than she did, but it just wasn't there.

“Good-bye.” She touched his face before he moved apart and headed out the door, a rush of cold air whipping in around him. “Have fun with Diane,” she called out and waved him down the front steps.

As soon as he'd thrown his bag into the trunk and shut himself into the car, she closed and locked the door and stood alone in the foyer, her arms wrapped around herself.

The grandfather clock loudly ticked off the seconds, as if she needed reminding that time waited for no man, and certainly not for a previously committed woman suddenly unsure about the fellow she'd once assumed she'd be sharing her life with.

Could coming back to Blue Hills have changed her that much? Or had she been more in love with love itself than she'd ever been with Greg?

“Clearly it's an occupational hazard,” she muttered, figuring someone so deeply involved in the wedding business should know the difference between commitment and complacence; but maybe part of the problem was watching so many couples promise “to love and to cherish” that she inevitably coveted that for herself.

What if the strange “vision” of Hunter Cummings last night was merely her mind and heart coming together to convince her that Greg wasn't her soul mate? What if she didn't move in with him when she returned to St. Louis? Would he understand if she took a step away instead of toward him? Would he give her the time and space to figure out what she really desired? Or, more likely, would he consider a put-off the kiss of death and move on to someone else who could better appreciate him?

Even if they broke up, it didn't guarantee she'd ever find a man like Jon Ashton. She could very well turn into one of those women so used to their independence that they could never compromise or settle. The kind they called “spinsters”—whether they were truly spinsters or not—who took cruises solo and adopted fifty cats while watching their married friends celebrate anniversaries and attend their children's graduations and weddings.

What's so terrifying about being by yourself?

Toni realized the idea of flying solo again at forty-six would have freaked her out more before this trip back to Blue Hills; before she'd become aware of how much she didn't know about her own past. How could she make any serious decisions about her future if she didn't even fully understand the family that had spawned her?

She had to
find
her past before she could release it, and she happened to be in the perfect place—the
only
place—to do both. And she would start right this minute, she decided, thinking of the flowered hatbox in the attic.

Well, maybe she'd wait until after she'd eaten something. Her stomach growled like an angry dog.

With the Victorian all to herself, she took her time making a meat-loaf sandwich and a cup of Earl Grey. Then she carried her meal into the den, wanting to check on the homework she'd given Greg.

Since he hadn't mentioned a thing about going through her mom's bank statements, she figured he'd spent his time pouting instead; but, lo and behold, she found a neat stack of monthly summaries from the Cummings Savings & Loan sitting on her father's oak desk, pinned down by a ruby glass paperweight. A yellow note with Greg's perfectly legible script stuck to the topmost edge:

Couldn't locate June from last year, but otherwise nothing too out of the ordinary except irregular deposits and weekly cash withdrawals for $400 (for the housekeeper? Is she paying taxes on this???). Looks like she's borrowing from her money market (which isn't even earning 1% interest! Horrors!). It's impossible to get the big picture without seeing ALL of her financial docs. Does she have any other investment accounts? IRAs? What about P&L statements from the winery? Tax returns? Can you box everything up and haul it back with you? (The sooner, the better!)

Love, G

If anything, Toni felt more confused than ever. Frustrated, she wadded up Greg's note and tossed it toward the recycle box. It hit the rim and bounced off, rolling to a stop between two stacks of magazines and catalogs.

Okay, the good news appeared to be that Evie wasn't broke. She had enough in the bank to pay Bridget cash every week. And she had funds in her money market account, which Greg implied she was slowly draining.

What if the problem wasn't with the clutter or even a few missed bills? Maybe Bridget's histrionics weren't about money at all but something else. Toni had a gut sense that Bridget knew way more than she was telling, or else why wouldn't the black dress healing itself have surprised the hell out of her? She'd seemed to take it in stride, and that wasn't normal. Toni had begun to feel like she was being steered in a certain direction by a human GPS that wasn't as specific as Greg's “Diane,” who instead wanted her to stumble around in the dark until she found her own answers.

“For Pete's sake,” she murmured. Couldn't anyone ever cut her some slack?

Because, if that was the case, why didn't Bridget just fess up and tell her the truth about everything? The housekeeper was being even stealthier than Hunter Cummings with his “secret project” and the crazy-ass winter “harvest” he'd briefly mentioned on his way out.

Tell Miss Evie when you see her that I won't quit on her, even if her daughter doesn't like me much.

Was Bridget's concern about Evie's deal with Hunter? Because, in spite of how horrid it made Toni feel knowing her mom had turned to him instead of to her when she'd needed help at the vineyard, she had a hard time believing he would truly take advantage of the situation. He might be stubborn, yes, and a little too self-assured, but he didn't seem callous. He didn't seem like the type who could screw over a comatose woman and still sleep at night.

Or was she missing the point? Should she be pondering instead why a golden boy like Hunter would suddenly give the time of day to a seventy-one-year-old woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his father's enemy? He was either as close to a saint as anyone came these days or he was getting something more out of it than a chance to dig his fingers in the last twenty acres of Morgan family dirt.

Stop twiddling your thumbs and go find out for yourself,
she heard Evie declaring in her no-nonsense voice.
You're a Show-Me State girl, born and bred. Either you'll see it with your own eyes, or you'll know it's not there
.

Okay, okay, she would do it.

The winery was just over the hill. Though it was cold enough to freeze the hairs in her nose, the roads weren't slick. She'd head over in a bit, once she took care of another item on her “what the hell is going on” list. She'd been dying to get back up in the attic all day long, and finally there was no one around to keep her from doing it.

Toni finished off her sandwich and tea, brushed the crumbs from her sweater, and deposited her plate in the sink. She unzipped her knapsack, plucked out the indestructible black dress, marched upstairs, dumped it across her bedroom chair, then continued straight up the hallway. She opened the door to the attic, hit the light switch, and climbed.

The hatbox remained where she'd left it, and she went directly to it. Instead of opening it there, she hauled it down with her, to her old room, setting it at the foot of her double bed.