“Matt, son, I really appreciate your going with
me to Central City, especially since Martha has been
so busy lately.”
“She’s been helping Betty with all her
graduation stuff, I guess.”
“Especially the part where she gives the class
history. We were proud when the class voted her to
be the historian.”
Matt sat next to Homer in the old truck and
studied his weather-beaten face for a moment. He
thought how Homer was that classic Southern farmer,
hard working and loyal to a fault. He knew Betty had
become like a daughter to Homer after the accident
which killed his daughter and he and Martha had
raised her well. Matt wasn’t exactly sure when he
started loving Betty, but did it really matter?
“Hey, the tractor supply store was back there
down Elm Street. You missed the turn.” said Matt.
"Sorry I wasn’t watching.”
“We’ll stop there on the way back. I’ve got
somewhere to go first.”
He stopped at the red light and pulled the
crumpled piece of paper out of his overall pocket.
“Do you know where this store is?” Homer asked,
as he handed the paper to Matt.
Matt was surprised as he read The Dress
Boutique Central City.
“Yeah, it is on the far side of town. I drove
my sister, Clare there once to get a prom dress.
Just follow this road and we’ll turn left on Ashton
Drive.”
“I didn’t want to let Betty know I was going,”
Homer explained. “She wants that dress with a long
train and me and Martha are trying to find someone
to design it, you know, because of the chair.”
“Betty has not said a lot about the dress, but
she would look after graduation and do all the big
planning then.”
“That lady at Bentley’s told me to look here,
because they couldn’t help me.”
“I’m not surprised.” Matt said, with an edge of
bitterness to his voice. “Bentley’s is too uppity to
help normal folks. When my sister was looking for a
prom gown, they acted like they didn’t want to wait
on her.”
He imagined Bentley’s readily passing the old
man off to someone else. Would The Dress
Boutique do any better he wondered?
They continued down the main street until they saw
Ashton Drive.
“It’s right down there on the right. See that
building with the brick front and pink door?” Matt
asked.
Homer looked for a place to park near the
store. As he climbed out of the truck, he dusted
his overalls off, more from habit and nerves than
anything. He grabbed the front door to the boutique
and held it open for a lady that was entering.
“Thank you,” she said kindly.
Homer nodded as he and Matt walked to the
counter which was on the left side of the store. To
their right was a wall lined with prom gowns and
bridesmaid dresses. There was a small round rack in
the back full of tiny dresses, for flower girls Matt
guessed. Wedding gowns, veils and other accessories
covered the rest of the store, chiffon and lace as
far as the eye could see.
“Excuse me ma’am,” Homer began, again holding
the old cap in his hands. “We are looking for a
wedding dress designer.”
Estelle Granger, the lady that Homer had held
the door open for, turned and stared through the
rack she was looking at, instantly intrigued by his
request. What would an old man and a teenage boy
want with a dress designer?
“We have two designers here on staff. May I
ask why you need their services?” the lady at the
counter asked politely.
“My granddaughter is getting married in August
to Matt here and we need a special gown for she is
in a wheelchair.”
This time Homer had more control of his
emotions as he pulled out the picture of Betty. He
spoke quietly and Estelle couldn’t hear what he was
saying but she noticed him holding a photo. She
almost knocked the rack over, stretching on tiptoes
to get a look but still, was too far away.
The lady at the counter shook her head, “I wish
we could help, however, our designers are booked up
and there is no way we could design and make a gown
like she would need by August. Did you try
Bentleys?”
“Yes ma’am we did,” Matt answered curtly.
“Thank you anyway.”
Estelle heard the last part and was in a
quandary, her heart breaking over the old man’s
predicament. She had been making dresses for the
public out of her house for ten years now and was at
the Dress Boutique to try to get some new ideas.
She wondered why they didn’t just buy a ready-made
dress. What did they want that needed a dress
designer? The two men stepped outside and Estelle
hurried after them. She caught them before they
were able to get in the truck.
“I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but overhear
what you asked in there. Why do you need a special
gown?” Estelle asked, curiously.
Homer handed her the picture that he still held
in his hand.
“Betty wants a dress with a train to trail
behind when I walk her up the aisle. We are
planning a nice wedding behind the house near the
woods that she loves so much…” Homer’s voice broke a
little as the disappointment of being turned down
again hit him.
“I am a dress maker,” Estelle ventured,
deciding then to help this old man. “I make dresses
at my home here in Central City but if you wanted I
could come to see…”
She paused as she realized she didn’t even know
the name of the girl in the picture, so she asked.
“It’s Betty ma’am,” Matt replied. “And I am
Matt Jansen and this is Homer Smith. We live in
Riverview, right past the Oakwood church and
cemetery.”
“I know right where that is. I have kinfolk
that go there to church” she said, her excitement
growing. “I am Estelle Granger and I could come
over tomorrow if you would like. I could bring my
patterns and talk to Betty about what she wants. We
would have to start soon to be ready by August.”
Here it was, Estelle thought, almost the end
of May but she could do it. Business had been a
little slow and she could use the money. She
suddenly wondered if the old man could afford a
dress even with her cut rate prices.
As if he were reading her mind Homer said, “Me
and Martha have saved up some money for the dress.
We can have you paid before August I know.”
“Well then it is settled,” Estelle said.
Matt wrote out exact instructions on a notepad
Estelle had found in her purse of how to reach their
place.
“I will see you tomorrow at three o’clock.”
Homer felt as if a hundred-pound load had been
lifted off his chest as he got into the truck. Now
Betty could have her dress! And this lady seemed so
kind, he was sure Martha would like her. A quick
stop at the tractor supply store and then home so he
could tell the good news to Martha and Betty.
Homer found Betty and Martha in the living
room looking at bridal magazines. They were
concentrating their efforts on figuring out how to
use vines and wildflowers to decorate. The woods
and fields on the farm were full of them and it
would be inexpensive and beautiful.
“Guess what Betty?” Homer said, gently.
“What is it Papaw? You and Matt seemed tickled
about something. Catch a sale at the tractor store?”
“Better than that! We stopped in at The
Dress Boutique while we were in Central City and
met a dressmaker who is going to come out tomorrow
and fix you up with a dress.”
“One of their designers is coming here? I
don’t believe it,” Martha said, astonished.
“No, not a designer from the store. Just a lady
who happened to be in there, here I wrote down her
name,” Homer said, digging in his pocket. “Estelle
Granger. She sews for the public.”
“Papaw, you are the greatest!” Betty said,
giggling. “I can just picture you in The Dress
Boutique.”
“What about me?” Matt asked, feigning sadness.
“I was as out of place as he was.”
She wheeled her chair over where they stood and
hugged Homer and gave Matt a kiss on the cheek.
“Is that better?” She asked all smiles.
“If this lady is coming tomorrow, I better get
to cleaning,” Martha exclaimed. “Homer, go
straighten up the front porch. I don’t want her to
think we are heathens.”
Tuesday afternoon rolled around and Betty and
Martha sat in the living room waiting for Estelle.
Homer was so nervous about it all that he had called
Matt to come help him clean out the barn. He was
going through old equipment parts, buckets of
screws, nails and other odds and ends.
“That must be her,” Matt said, hearing Homer’s
old dog, Mac, barking up a storm. Mac was a mix of a
German shepherd and a Collie, with one ear that laid
over all the time so that he looked lopsided.
“Mac! Get in here!” Matt yelled and shut Mac
in the barn with them so he wouldn’t scare Ms.
Granger.
“I sure hope she can help Betty,” Homer
sighed quietly and kept working.
Estelle looked at the small, neat white wood
framed farmhouse as she drove up the long driveway.
There were a couple of old sheds and a barn in the
back. She would bet one of the sheds was an old
pump house from the times when everyone used wells.
“I don’t believe they could have afforded even
a cheap ready-made dress,” she said aloud, sadly. “I
hope there is something I can do.”
She stepped out of her car and approached the
ramp to the left of the porch and cautiously walked
up. Martha stepped out to greet her.
“Ms. Granger?” She asked. “I’m Martha Smith.
Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you. I hear we are planning a wedding.”
As Estelle entered the home, she noticed the
fireplace was the focal point of the living room.
On the opposite side, was a small couch, a couple of
mismatched chairs and a television set on a stand in
the corner. Pictures of people were everywhere, on
the hearth over the fireplace, on the walls and on
the two antique coffee tables. What caught
Estelle’s eye, however, was the petite young lady
sitting in one of the chairs. Her wheelchair sat
empty in the spot beside her, and it seemed as
though it was waiting to swallow her up. The girl
barely looked five feet tall and Estelle wondered if
whatever was wrong with her had stunted her growth.
“Ms. Granger, this is my granddaughter, Betty,”
Martha said, and motioned for her to sit on the
couch nearby.
“Please call me Estelle. Everybody does.”
“I am so glad to meet you Estelle,” Betty
answered in a tiny voice with a slow southern drawl.
“Papaw was so happy when you said you could come.”
“Yes,” Martha agreed. “We were both worried
about getting Betty the dress she wants.”
“What exactly are you looking for Betty?”
“This,” she replied, pointing to the magazine
in her lap. “But made so it will hang right with me
sitting in this chair.”
Estelle looked at the picture as she read aloud
from the magazine, “A romantic satin gown with a
dropped waist and A-line skirt is perfect for your
wedding. The dress is overlaid with lace which
splits in the front to reveal the satin under
dress. A long chapel train with lace overlay
completes the dress.”
“Isn’t it lovely?” Martha commented.
‘It is indeed,” Estelle replied. “The chapel
train…”
Her voice faltered as she struggled to tell
the child that it would be virtually impossible to
design or make a dress like this to fit her.
“I know it might seem ridiculous,” Betty said,
as she leaned forward with her hands clutched
together,” a chapel train and me in this chair but
somehow if it could just work out. You know, I
would feel like I was walking besides Papaw. Things
would just be better. So you understand?”
The desperation in her voice touched Estelle
deeply and she looked away.
“I do understand child, and if there is any
way, I will,” Estelle said, eyes welling up with
tears.
Estelle thought back to when she had first
considered leaving her job at the supermarket to
start her own business. Sewing only when she got
off work was okay for a while, but the day came when
she had to decide. Choosing to start a business was
risky. She didn’t know if she would succeed but
knew if she didn’t at least try, regret would fill
the remainder of her life. Now, Betty had a dream
of this dress, this dream wedding dress of hers.
“Let me get your measurements and then we can
talk about the details.”
For the next hour, they discussed the dress and
what the wedding would consist of. After Estelle
had written everything down in her notebook, she
gathered her purse and jacket to leave.
“Wait!” Betty said impulsively. “Before you go,
I want to show you something.”
She pulled her chair to her and Martha jumped up to
lock the brakes. Betty removed the arm of it and
proceeded to lift her unresponsive legs. Martha did
not help but was beside her to steady the chair.
“I don’t always need help, depending on what I
am sitting on,” Betty said, nonchalantly. “I will be
back in a minute.”
“She is quite a young lady,” Estelle remarked
admiringly when Betty exited the room.
“To have gone through so much,” Martha said.
“The car wreck and losing her mother. It’s a
miracle how well she has done.”
They stopped talking as Betty wheeled back in
the room.
“Here, my special wedding book. I’ve been
collecting stuff in it for the last few years.”
Betty had filled the dark blue notebook with
everything for her dream wedding. The first page
had a copy of the dress from the magazine taped on
it. As Estelle turned the pages, there were
beautiful cakes, floral arrangements, a horse drawn
carriage and beautiful food tables. A wedding like
this would cost a fortune, Estelle thought to
herself.
“My wedding is going to be simple,” Betty said.
“And that’s okay but it doesn’t hurt to dream.
Maybe someday I will have a daughter and she can
have a wedding like in my book. I’m saving this
book to give her.”
“I’m sure your wedding will be lovely,” Estelle
answered awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
Martha walked Estelle to her car and Homer came
from behind the house and joined them.
“What do you think you can do, ma’am?” Homer
asked.
“I have all the information and I will just
have to price all the material and alter the gown to
work, with the chair, that is.”
“I will tell you honestly ma’am,” Homer
replied, looking at the ground. “We have saved three
hundred dollars for this dress. With all the help
of the family and neighbors, we have food and stuff
planned for the wedding right out there near those
woods.”
He pointed to a picturesque spot that would
be charming for a simple wedding.
“I wish I could tell you something, Mr. Smith
but I will have to price everything first. I told
Martha here that I would be back on the Friday after
graduation and let you know something.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Homer replied as Estelle
said her good byes, got in her car and headed back
to Central City.
A gown, with a train to fit a wheelchair
and three hundred dollars? Estelle thought to
herself sadly. What have I gotten myself into?
Stay Tuned for CHAPTER 5.
© 2009 Jennifer Hallmark. All Rights Reserved.
