“This is it...” Heidi breathed.
“Grandma’s dress.”
No one had worn the dress since Grandma Kemp, and while Harper had done a few repairs where the lining had fallen apart, nothing else was changed.
“I’m thinking it will fit you at about a tea length.” Harper went on. “We’ll have to let out the waist a little bit...since I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be squeezing yourself into a 1950s girdle. And Grandma was tiny.”
Heidi chuckled. “No girdle. And I want to shorten it to above the knee.”
“Above the knee?” Harper gathered the dress back up and put it on top of the box. “That’s not even funny.”
“I’m not joking,” Heidi retorted. “I don’t see myself as a traditional bride anyway.”
“Not traditional?” Harper retorted. “Heidi, you quit your job to marry this man! If that isn’t traditional, I don’t know what is!”
“Planning a society wedding is going to be a full-time job in itself,” Heidi said. “Besides, I obviously won’t need the income anymore. It’s not like the job was my dream career. I was a receptionist.”
“That job was yours,” Harper countered. “That matters. Keeping something that belongs to you...” Harper sighed. In her humble opinion, her sister was fighting the wrong battle over keeping some independence. Heidi was waging war for a dress, but she’d given up her job. “I’m just saying, Chris’s family is very traditional. You’re marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the county. If you leave the dress as is, it’ll be tea length. So midcalf.”
“That’s long, Harper.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be so different all the time?”
“I’ll still be me,” Heidi quipped. “Difficult as always. Thankfully, Chris thinks I’m pretty.”
“You’ll want nice pictures. And so will he, for that matter.”
“I’ll want pictures that show me as me,” Heidi countered. “I have never in my life worn a long dress anywhere. I’m a jeans girl. So I think a short, flirty dress is a nice compromise.”
“And hack apart Grandma’s dress?” Harper gaped at her sister.
“We could use the leftover material in a flower girl dress for Zoey.” Heidi shrugged, a smile coming to her face. “It would be perfect!”
It would be perfect for Heidi, but what about any chance of Harper wearing her grandmother’s dress for her own wedding one day? What about Zoey’s wedding?
“I want to wear it, too,” Harper confessed.
“We always said that the first sister to get married would wear it,” Heidi interjected.
“We were teenagers at the time,” Harper replied. “And quite frankly, being the older sister, I’d assumed that would fall to me.”
“Well, sorry to beat you to it!” Tears sparkled in Heidi’s eyes. “So what are you saying—you won’t alter the dress for me?”
Harper didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what she was saying.
“Why don’t you use the veil,” Heidi said. “I never wanted a veil anyway. I want a little fascinator like people do in London weddings.”
“The veil is gone,” Harper said woodenly. “It was taken in the robbery.”
She met her sister’s gaze and they were both silent for a moment. Heidi sighed.
“I didn’t know...”
“It would have been fair, though,” Harper said after a moment. “I might have agreed to that.”
Tears misted Harper’s gaze and she looked down at Zoey, who was staring up at them, her gray eyes wide.
“It’s okay, Zoey,” Harper said. “Auntie and I are just like little girls sometimes, and bicker. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“No biting,” Zoey whispered, and Harper and Heidi burst out laughing.
Harper scooped her daughter up into her arms and gave her a squeeze. “That’s solid advice, Zoey.”
They’d figure out something, and Harper sent up a silent and slightly selfish prayer that their solution would leave her a piece of her grandmother’s legacy for her own wedding day...and that she might be as blessed as her sister in the romance department. Heidi’s fiancé, Chris, was a great guy—smart, loyal, sweet...
But even if she didn’t find her own Mr. Right anytime soon, Harper had her daughter, whom she loved with all her heart. She’d never worn maternity clothes or given birth, but she knew that she was every bit a mom. Some blessings came along unexpected paths.
* * *
Gabe drove past Blessings Bridal on his way to the police station that morning. Everything looked as quiet as he expected. Passing the shop was out of his way, considering that he was staying at Lily and Bryce Camden’s bed and breakfast. The department wouldn’t pay for the entire cost of the B and B, but they subsidized it, which helped. And it was a whole lot more comfortable than the dive of a hotel he was going to be staying at originally. The breakfast that his hostess had prepared for him—apricot oatmeal, yogurt and a bowl of fresh fruit—made his stay feel more like a vacation than the reprimand that it was supposed to be. But this morning’s meeting with Chief Morgan should take care of that.
He parked in the lot next to the precinct and glanced at his watch. Gabe had been dreading this part—the discipline. It would come in the form of training, but everyone knew what this was. Granted, Gabe should have kept his mouth shut when his boss irritated him, but he didn’t think he’d been altogether wrong, either. Unfortunately, when it came to the chain of command, being right wasn’t everything.
Gabe remembered Chance Morgan from the local force when he’d been a troubled teen in Comfort Creek. Chief Morgan had been a sergeant back then, and Gabe hadn’t known him personally, but he still cared what the man thought of him. Gabe headed through the front doors and nodded to the receptionist, Cheryl. She was on the phone, but put the receiver against her shoulder to shield the mouthpiece and pointed toward the bull pen.
“The chief says to go straight to his office. He’s waiting for you,” she said with a smile.
Easy enough for her to smile. She wasn’t the one facing binders full of sensitivity training. He’d heard horror stories of those questionnaires and required reading...all about how to “constructively approach disagreements and negotiate a win-win solution.” Yeah, he’d had a buddy who did some sensitivity training in Fort Collins—apparently, not quite as in-depth as he was about to experience out here in Comfort Creek. If they had to physically send him away for the experience, he could only imagine what was in store.
He gave the receptionist a nod of thanks and headed around the bull pen toward the chief’s office. He could dread it all he wanted. There was no way out of Comfort Creek but through the program.
“Come in,” Chief Morgan called when Gabe knocked, and he opened the door.
Chief Morgan sat behind a desk. He looked to be about forty with sandy-blond hair that was just starting to gray. He appeared to be finishing some paperwork, and when Gabe came in, he flipped shut the folder and gave him a cordial nod.
“Have a seat, officer.”
“Thank you, sir.” Gabe shut the door behind him and eased into a chair.
“So, why are you here?”
Gabe sighed. “Insubordination, sir.”