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The Wedding Dress - Chapter 1
Old denim coveralls adorned his sparsely
built body, one slightly bent with age and hard
work. His age could have been sixty or eighty. He
held a dusty Atlanta Braves baseball cap in his
hands, a quaint expression of manners, Angeline
thought in this day and time.
“Do you need something?” she asked, curtly.
The man was so out of place in this high
fashion bridal boutique. Bentley’s adorned every
wall with wedding dresses of all colors and designs
and filled the back room with dresses for all others
involved in the wedding. Tuxedos were special
ordered so they needed no extra room.
One seamstress, in the middle of fitting Mrs.
Leonard Upton’s daughter, hurried by to get some
pins and rolled her eyes at the sight of the old
man. A couple of sales associates sat by the
coffeepot on break, drank Starbucks Breakfast Blend
and whispered to one another about him as well.
“Don’t you think he is a little old for
marriage?” one giggled.
“I would not think that it is his
first,” replied the other.
“Ma’am,” he began.
“I know I don’t fit in this here place and I
wouldn’t have even come if not for Betty.”
The pronouncement of that name brought tears to
his eyes and Angeline was shocked at the emotion he
was displaying right here in Bentley’s!
“My wife Martha wanted me to come and ask
about employing the services of a wedding dress
designer, ya’ll being the closest shop hereabouts
that is.”
“We do have designers on our staff. Why would
you need their services?”
Angeline felt irritation rise within her over
this ridiculous old man. It was absurd that he
thought he could afford their services, especially
those of a dress designer.
“Ma’am, its Betty, our granddaughter. Me and
Martha have raised her from a child after her momma
died in the car wreck.”
Again, the tear filled eyes and she felt a wave
of emotions, anger and impatience, streaming over
her normally reserved exterior.
“What would that have to do with
Bentley’s?”
“Betty has found a young man to marry, after
she graduates that is, and we have been saving to
get her a dress,” he continued.
“We do have ready-made dresses that she can try
on right here.”
Finding Betty a dress they could afford would
be hard, she thought, but they did carry a few lower
dollar dresses for just such an occasion. After all,
a sale was a sale.
“You don’t understand, Ma’am. Betty wants a
dress made of lace with a long train, one to trail
back through the aisle as I walk with her and give
her away.”
The tears in this man’s eyes bothered
Angeline. She considered excusing herself and
calling for another associate to wait on him, one
with less seniority than herself. She was the
assistant manager at Bentley’s, not a receptionist!
Besides, Mrs. Leonard Upton’s daughter was in one of
the back rooms and she was someone of
importance. When the Mayor remarried, where did his
fiancée get her gown? Right here at Bentley’s! And
now this old man was in here upsetting the day and
her schedule.
“We have several dresses with lace and long
trains. Just bring Betty in.”
“That’s the problem Ma’am. There are three
steps and an awful narrow doorway and besides Betty
will have to have a special gown.”
He reached into the pocket of the old denim
coveralls and pulled out a snapshot of Betty.
Angeline’s mouth hung open as she saw the young
woman in the picture, her body twisted in a sideways
position in a wheelchair. She sat smiling next to a
plain looking young man who squatted beside her
while he held her hand. Both looked extremely
young.
“There is obviously nothing we can do
for you,” Angeline said, with finality.
“I tried to tell Martha that a dress with a
train just wouldn’t work with the chair and all but
she is our Betty and…and I told her I would try.
I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He turned to go as he shoved the picture back
in his pocket.
Angeline went back to working on her invoice
when Glenda’s shrill voice interrupted her
thoughts.
“Why don’t you try The Dress Boutique in
Central City?” she said, sarcastically.
Homer turned around hopefully.
“The Dress Boutique?”
“Here, I’ll write it down for you.”
She scribbled something on a piece of paper and
handed it to him.
“Thank you ma’am,” he mumbled and shuffled out
the door.
“What did you do that for? They won’t help
him,” Angeline said.
“It’s a joke,” Glenda retorted. “I can just see
their faces at The Dress Boutique when he
walks in.”
“What did he want?” One associate asked
Angeline, walking up with her cup of Starbucks.
“He just needed some directions. Don’t worry
about it.” she answered.
She then tucked her pencil behind her ear and
returned to work without another thought about the
old man in the denim coveralls.
Later that evening Angeline drove home in a
newly purchased Lexus ES. It was a car that she
could finally afford after her promotion to
assistant manager back in January. The black
leather interior still had that wonderful “new”
smell and she breathed deeply, enjoying the sweet
smell of success after several years of hard work.
“Angeline Springer, you have finally made it,”
she said aloud, marveling at how well the car
handled as she rounded a sharp curve toward home.
“And only 31 years old.”
Angeline had dark hair and eyes, like her
mother and was only five foot two inches tall. Her
father’s family was short and her pale complexion
and sharp nose were also inherited traits. Well, she
might look average but was obsessively neat and her
clothes were the best. Her family’s upper middle
class status had always helped her to dress well and
probably helped her land this job.
Home. She passed into the gated community and
pulled into her driveway in front of a brick
townhouse. Elegant was the word she used to
describe it. It had beautiful landscaping and a
nice small yard. It was the perfect size for one
person.
“One person,” she said, frowning as she sat
reminiscing in the parked car.
The year was 1995 and Angeline was well into her
senior year. Things could not have been better. She
was a cheerleader for the Riverview Pirates, on the
yearbook staff and made pretty good grades as well. The
day she remembered, Gail had ridden home with her after
school. They wanted to get ready for the big game at
Atwood that night. It wasn’t really the game they were
getting ready for but the dance in which all the
Riverview cheerleaders had been invited. Life was good.
“Angeline, come here,” her mother called from the
dining room.
They had entered through the back door and were
headed straight for her room to dump their books and
stuff when she heard her mother call.
“Coming!” Angeline yelled and she and Gail hurried
to the dining room.
“I need a snack anyway,” she said to Gail. “Lunch
was awful today. I couldn’t stomach that hamburger
casserole junk.”
“Oh I know,” Gail replied.
Walking into the dining room, Angeline saw that
Aunt Helen was there with her daughter Penelope.
“Oh, Angeline, I didn’t realize you had company,”
her mother said smoothly.
She had told her mother that she was inviting Gail
home, but apparently she just hadn’t listened.
“Aunt Helen and Penelope had just come by to show
me their plans for the big wedding next March.”
Magazines and papers were spread around. Angeline
and Gail sat for several boring minutes as Aunt Helen
went on and on about the biggest wedding ever to hit
Riverview, or so she would have everyone think.
“How about you, Angeline?” Penelope purred. “Do you
have any prospects yet?”
She hated her cousin anyway, but probably never any
more than she did then. This would undoubtedly start
another round of talking for weeks by her mother of
weddings, grandchildren and all the things that made the
world good, pure and wholesome. According to her mother
that was.
“I only exist to her,” she thought bitterly, “to
hurry and get married and supply her with
grandchildren.”
Angeline was an only child and her mother was the
only one in her group of friends that hadn’t any
grandchildren and they could not have that now, could
they?
It was not her fault that her mother was
thirty-five when Angeline was born and that now her
“grandmother” clock was ticking.
“We have got to get ready,” she said,
glaring at Penelope. “Come on Gail.”
As they walked into the kitchen, Gail looked at her
with surprise.
“What was that all about? If looks could kill that
Penelope would be dead.”
“It wouldn’t bother me any. My mother is only
living now to have grandchildren and as her only
daughter she is forever pushing me to date and marry and
reproduce. When she’s not nagging me about smoking that
is. You would have to smoke to stand to live here. I
mean her and Dad both smoke, what does she expect?”
Gail giggled, “You’re lucky. My parents are so
strict. My dad doesn’t even want me dating. Mom had to
convince him otherwise.”
They slowly walked up the stairs, each carrying a
diet Pepsi and an apple.
“I have half a mind to go off and get pregnant,”
Angeline said, cynically. “That would teach her a lesson
and ruin her reputation.”
“You don’t mean that!” Gail said, with alarm.
“No but the thought of the look on her face when
she found out does give me pleasure.”
Now, thirteen years later, she sat in her Lexus,
and replayed the scene in her mind. For weeks after
that visit from Penelope, her mother asked several times
if she had a date and suggested different young men with
whom she could go out. Angeline gritted her teeth and
ignored her mother, glad when graduation came and she
started college.
Yes, when she first started
college she missed Dad and his easy-going manner.
He was so easy to talk to and they still had lunch
occasionally when she wasn’t swamped with study.
Angeline had moved into her own apartment with friends
then, and now sat in front of her own townhouse.
She had a new car, a good job, plenty of money, she was
likable and single…
Stay Tuned for CHAPTER 2.
© 2009 Jennifer Hallmark. All Rights Reserved.
