Beth left the Mercantile, and both burst into giggles.
Rachel wiped tears of laughter. "Did you see Mrs. Weldon's eyes bug out? She turned so red I feared she might have a stroke."
Beth looked at her cousin. "Thank you for sticking up for me."
"I hate those two biddies. They have nothing good to say about anyone. What they don't know, they make up and pass along as fact." Apparently Rachel's humor fled and anger replaced it. She almost stomped down the walk.
Beth sighed. "We didn't solve your dress problem."
They crossed the street and turned toward Beth's home.
Beth pointed at the dark clouds almost overhead. "Oh, no. I hope we reach home before the cloud burst."
Both women fell silent and hurried until they reached the Pendletons' massive Greek revival home.
Mrs. Pendleton waited in the drawing room. "Well?"
Rachel shook her head. "Nothing, Aunt Louise."
Mrs. Pendleton tapped her finger against her cheek. "Who do we know who's your size?"
"Widow Braswell, but she only wears black." Rachel shrugged. "The only other person I can think of is that harlot, Sally, at the saloon."
"Hmmm. Perhaps we could send a note to Sally and see if she has anything suitable." Beth didn't realize she'd spoken her thoughts aloud until the other two women displayed open-mouthed stares.
Mrs. Pendleton shuddered. "Bethany, you can't be serious. A harlot's dress in your wedding? What would people say?"
Rachel shook her head. "I couldn't. Ben wouldn't like me dressing in Sally's clothes."
Beth recalled hearing that before Ben courted Rachel, he'd been very well acquainted with Sally. With six kids and an apple farm, Beth doubted he had the time, energy, or inclination to visit Sally now.
Beth grabbed the ruined dress. "Perhaps there's some other way, but we're running out of time. Come up to my room, Rachel. We'll see if there's a dress with fabric we might use to redo the bodice."
In one of the armoires in her bedroom, Beth pulled out a dark pink China crepe. When it was made, she had loved the dress, but hadn't worn it since the ball at which her brief engagement to Fred Mahoney was dissolved by the arrival of the U.S. Mar shal. She held the ruined dress next to the China crepe. The combination might not be ideal, but it beat green poplin, stained moiré, black bombazine— or anything Sally might offer.
Beth tossed both dresses across her bed. "Can you stay and help me?"
Rachel nodded. "I told Ben I'd meet him at the chapel. His mother will see the kids are clean and de cent."
Beth turned to Rachel. "We'll have to hurry." She reached under her night table and retrieved a stack of Harper's Bazaar magazines. "Let's look through these. I think I saw a style we can use."
"You've been sewing—I see your things are out."
Beth sighed and told Rachel about her wedding dress and the hasty repairs while each leafed through one of the magazines.
"A mouse in your home? I wouldn't think Aunt Louise would allow it."
Beth smiled. "Likely she'll be making war on the ro dent world. Now that I know it's repaired, it seems humorous. It'll be something to tell my children and grandchildren, won't it?"
"You've always been a wonderful seamstress. My stitches are never neat." Rachel turned a page.
"Oh, see this one?" Beth pointed to an illustration of a riding habit. "It says it's made in red habit cloth, so that's what I used in the one I made for the ranch. Mason's teaching me to ride."
"I can't picture you on a ranch. Are you sure you can adjust?"
Beth nodded at the trunks. "Oh, yes. I'm looking forward to it. I have lots of linens for the house, of course, as well as pictures and prints and things I've collected all these years. Mason's hired Delia Boone to help me with the house, but I wouldn't mind doing everything myself."
Rachel gave Beth a measuring look. "You'll need different clothes for the ranch."
"Yes, and I've, made several dresses the past three weeks." She hurried to a trunk and pulled out a mod est dress of blue calico.
Rachel wiped tears of laughter. "Did you see Mrs. Weldon's eyes bug out? She turned so red I feared she might have a stroke."
Beth looked at her cousin. "Thank you for sticking up for me."
"I hate those two biddies. They have nothing good to say about anyone. What they don't know, they make up and pass along as fact." Apparently Rachel's humor fled and anger replaced it. She almost stomped down the walk.
Beth sighed. "We didn't solve your dress problem."
They crossed the street and turned toward Beth's home.
Beth pointed at the dark clouds almost overhead. "Oh, no. I hope we reach home before the cloud burst."
Both women fell silent and hurried until they reached the Pendletons' massive Greek revival home.
Mrs. Pendleton waited in the drawing room. "Well?"
Rachel shook her head. "Nothing, Aunt Louise."
Mrs. Pendleton tapped her finger against her cheek. "Who do we know who's your size?"
"Widow Braswell, but she only wears black." Rachel shrugged. "The only other person I can think of is that harlot, Sally, at the saloon."
"Hmmm. Perhaps we could send a note to Sally and see if she has anything suitable." Beth didn't realize she'd spoken her thoughts aloud until the other two women displayed open-mouthed stares.
Mrs. Pendleton shuddered. "Bethany, you can't be serious. A harlot's dress in your wedding? What would people say?"
Rachel shook her head. "I couldn't. Ben wouldn't like me dressing in Sally's clothes."
Beth recalled hearing that before Ben courted Rachel, he'd been very well acquainted with Sally. With six kids and an apple farm, Beth doubted he had the time, energy, or inclination to visit Sally now.
Beth grabbed the ruined dress. "Perhaps there's some other way, but we're running out of time. Come up to my room, Rachel. We'll see if there's a dress with fabric we might use to redo the bodice."
In one of the armoires in her bedroom, Beth pulled out a dark pink China crepe. When it was made, she had loved the dress, but hadn't worn it since the ball at which her brief engagement to Fred Mahoney was dissolved by the arrival of the U.S. Mar shal. She held the ruined dress next to the China crepe. The combination might not be ideal, but it beat green poplin, stained moiré, black bombazine— or anything Sally might offer.
Beth tossed both dresses across her bed. "Can you stay and help me?"
Rachel nodded. "I told Ben I'd meet him at the chapel. His mother will see the kids are clean and de cent."
Beth turned to Rachel. "We'll have to hurry." She reached under her night table and retrieved a stack of Harper's Bazaar magazines. "Let's look through these. I think I saw a style we can use."
"You've been sewing—I see your things are out."
Beth sighed and told Rachel about her wedding dress and the hasty repairs while each leafed through one of the magazines.
"A mouse in your home? I wouldn't think Aunt Louise would allow it."
Beth smiled. "Likely she'll be making war on the ro dent world. Now that I know it's repaired, it seems humorous. It'll be something to tell my children and grandchildren, won't it?"
"You've always been a wonderful seamstress. My stitches are never neat." Rachel turned a page.
"Oh, see this one?" Beth pointed to an illustration of a riding habit. "It says it's made in red habit cloth, so that's what I used in the one I made for the ranch. Mason's teaching me to ride."
"I can't picture you on a ranch. Are you sure you can adjust?"
Beth nodded at the trunks. "Oh, yes. I'm looking forward to it. I have lots of linens for the house, of course, as well as pictures and prints and things I've collected all these years. Mason's hired Delia Boone to help me with the house, but I wouldn't mind doing everything myself."
Rachel gave Beth a measuring look. "You'll need different clothes for the ranch."
"Yes, and I've, made several dresses the past three weeks." She hurried to a trunk and pulled out a mod est dress of blue calico.
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