Chapter Three
Bright sunlight banished all trace of the previous night’s storm, but a glum cloud hung over Isobel’s head as she arrived at the Ever After Boutique.
Half bridal salon and half trendy women’s clothing store, the boutique claimed two storefronts along the row of the last-century brick buildings lining Main Street. Nestled between the bookstore and the coffee shop, and across the street from Lucky’s Irish Pub, Isobel had started working at the boutique eighteen years earlier when she was pregnant with Finn and awaiting her eighteenth birthday so she and Shea could marry.
Now Isobel handled most of the responsibilities managing the store, and the store’s owner Celeste only bothered coming in on Saturdays, their busiest day of the week, so Isobel could focus on her chief job duty of handling the wedding and prom dress alterations.
She switched on the overhead lights and powered up the cash register at the front of the store. When she was about to unlock the doors, Celeste appeared from the back room.
“Good morning,” Isobel called out to her.
“Is it?” Celeste hoisted her frail frame onto the stool behind the sales counter.
Biting back a sardonic smile at the typical sour reply from her boss, Isobel flipped the lock on the front door and turned over the sign in the window to announce that the store was officially open for business.
Never a particularly cheerful person, Celeste had grown downright cantankerous since the death of her husband some years ago. She was now in her mid-sixties, and Isobel feared her boss would retire. What would happen to the store? Would Celeste be able to find a seller who wanted to run a bridal store? Or would she, or the new owner, close it down?
Whatever she decided to do, Isobel dreaded the uncertainty and upheaval the change might bring to her own life.
Several large cardboard boxes awaited her in the stockroom, so she left Celeste with the monthly accounting ledger and headed to the back to unpack the shipment that had arrived the previous day. At one time, a batch of new dresses would have stirred a delightful hum of anticipation in her. She’d have rushed to touch the luxurious fabrics and the feminine designs would have set off a flood of creativity that might’ve stayed with her for days.
Now new arrivals struck a bittersweet chord, and the chore of finding the perfect bride for each gown often left her feeling shattered and hollow. It hurt, knowing what happened after the happily ever after.
She used a boxcutter to carefully slice the packing tape, then flipped open the box top and dug out a plastic-wrapped gown. Hanging the dress on a garment rack, she unzipped the protective covering and inspected the gown, fondling the delicate fabric of the silk chiffon sheath she’d picked out of the catalogue.
The next gown managed to pull an appreciative sound from her. A heavily beaded drop-waist organza ballgown, the dress exuded fairy-tale princess more than any other gown in the store. Isobel leaned close to examine the intricate beadwork. Before long, inspiration had struck, filling her mind with a throng of ideas for a new dress. She fought the urge to reach for her sketchbook and draft a quick design.
While she’d only made a handful of dresses so far, she hoped to be able to add to her personal inventory soon. It’d started as an impossible dream, unattainable for someone like her, a high school dropout and teen mom. Then she’d watched Shea start his own business, turning Lucky’s into the island’s most popular destination after the public beach, and the impossible dream became merely improbable.
With her secret held tightly to her chest, she’d scraped together enough money to buy a bolt of the most incredible fabric she’d ever seen. With it, she made a dress. A vintage-style satin sheath with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves, the gown had a 1940s silhouette but with a sexier cut.
Isobel sold that dress to her sister-in-law, Mina. Two months later, another sister-in-law, Emily, bought the only other wedding dress Isobel had ever made, and as a guest at both of their weddings, Isobel had had a front row seat to her gowns’ big days.
Of course, the brides were beautiful, but more important than that, she could see that they had felt beautiful. She’d overheard one guest gushing about the vintage-inspired style of Mina’s gown while another guest had loved Emily’s over-the-top ballgown and compared the trendy champagne-colored dress to one she’d seen at an upscale bridal salon in New York City. Even Celeste had commented on the skill of Isobel’s stitching and the superb quality of the fabrics she’d chosen.
Her improbable dream sprouted wings.
With the money made from the sale of those two dresses, Isobel bought more fabric and beading. Her next gown sold in a week, and she turned the profit from that dress into two more. When the second of those two dresses sold, her dream spread roots.
That’s when, recalling Shea’s path to success, she worked up the courage to contact Cooper, and despite her husband’s brutish interference last night, she held out hope that Cooper would approve her loan application. She wanted it with a desperation she couldn’t explain, though she suspected it might have something to do with the fact that her dream was the only thing she cared about that had nothing to do with him.
The memory of Shea’s expression when she’d told him she wanted a divorce notched a fresh gash in her chest. She’d grown accustomed to seeing anger and annoyance on his handsome features, but the wounded devastation had been unexpected.
Her vision blurred and the modified A-line gown she’d just unpacked from the box became a fuzzy ivory blob before her.
Divorce. Her heart retched at the word. It was a disgusting word, really. A series of harmless letters arranged into something so offensive. So pivotal. So final.
So painful.
That stupid arrangement of letters that didn’t begin to capture the slow torture of a crumbling marriage. Of a dying friendship, or a bankrupt love affair. Seven letters, each one containing a thousand heartaches or more.
When the faint sound of the bell over the front door chimed, Isobel let the dress fabric slip through her fingers and made two quick swipes at the tears under her eyes. Then she scurried to the salesfloor to greet the new customer.
But rather than a customer, she caught sight of Sophie Evans, her best friend since high school, handing Celeste a cardboard coffee cup from the shop next door. As Isobel approached, Sophie turned with a smile as bright as her platinum blonde hair.
“Is that the new dress?” She gestured to the gown displayed in the front window and handed Isobel one of the three remaining coffee cups from the drink carrier.
“It’s too poufy, isn’t it?” Isobel popped the lid of her cup and reached for a liquid creamer. “No one’s going to buy it.”
“Someone will buy it,” Celeste said without looking up from the accounting ledger.
“And whoever she is, she’ll look like a royal princess,” Sophie added.
Isobel tilted her head, considering the dress with a critical eye. “I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, please. Everyone you dress looks gorgeous.” Sophie handed Isobel a sugar packet. “Heck, you even made me look pretty when I was the size of a whale.”
Isobel winced. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“You’re beautiful, Soph, and you always have been, no matter what size you’re wearing.”
“And that right there is why you’re my best friend.” Sophie lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a tentative taste of the steaming brew. “I’ll make you a deal. You stop putting down your talent and I’ll stop referring to myself as a ginormous mammal.”
“Deal.”
Isobel stirred the cream and sugar into the black liquid and watched the color lighten to a smooth brown. Carefully, she tested the temperature with her own tiny taste, all the while pretending she didn’t notice Sophie’s light green eyes assessing her.
“Uh-oh.” Sophie set her cup on the sales counter. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Isobel asked innocently.
“You and Shea had a fight, didn’t you?”
“How do you know that?”
“You only look this miserable after you two have a fight.”
With a small shake of her head, Isobel took immense interest in the contents of her coffee cup. “I’m tired, that’s all.”
Sophie propped her elbows on the counter. “So it was a bad one, huh?”
Sudden emotion welled in the back of Isobel’s throat. “It’s not that. It’s just…” She rubbed her forehead, trying to ease away the memory of Shea’s ravaged expression. “We’re both miserable. All the time and…”
“I’m sorry, Iz. I wish I had some advice to give you, but you know I have no experience with healthy relationships.” Sophie emptied a sugar packet into her coffee. “You two have been together so long. Since high school, right?”
Isobel nodded.
Sophie placed her hand next to her mouth, as if to shield her next words from Celeste. “Have you ever been with anyone else?”
Warmth touched Isobel’s cheeks and she shook her head.
“Has he?” Sophie’s scandalized whisper whipped fierce heat into Isobel’s cheeks.
“Don’t you dare tell a soul.”
“Who would believe me?” Sophie asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Besides, I’m not judging either one of you. I’m thirty-three years old and have been with exactly one guy, almost two decades ago, and it turns out he only fucked me because he lost a bet.”
Isobel cringed at the mention of Liam Wright, remembering well the first time she’d heard that name, the same day she’d met Sophie.
Having dropped out of high school when she became pregnant with Finn, Isobel had been working at the store only a few weeks when a classmate from Sacred Heart came in looking for a dress to wear to fall homecoming. Heavily pregnant, Isobel had wanted to melt into the floorboards when Amber Jessop cornered her and demanded alterations to the slinky gold gown she’d chosen.
Isobel had cautioned against the changes, but Amber insisted, and when she returned to the store to pick up her dress a few days later, the slippery material refused to lie smoothly at the site of the alteration. She’d gone ballistic.
While Celeste dealt with Amber, Isobel had crept away to assist the only other customer in the store. A shy, sweet Sophie, who carried quite a bit of extra weight at the time.
After a brief introduction, Isobel had set to work pulling styles of dresses for Sophie to consider wearing to the dance. When she’d collected several gowns that she thought might accentuate Sophie’s assets, cruel laughter pierced the air.
“Who on earth asked you to prom?” Amber had demanded.
Two bright pink spots had appeared on Sophie’s chubby cheeks. “Liam Wright.”
Amber’s jaw had dropped and for one glorious, too-brief moment, she’d been stunned to silence. “Liam Wright asked you to homecoming? You’re joking, right?”
“N-no.”
“He can go out with any girl he wants. Why would he go out with you?”
“I d-don’t know,” Sophie had stammered, looking close to tears. “But he asked me, and I said yes.”
Blue daggers shot from Amber’s eyes as a horrid smile curled her cherry-red painted lips. “We’ll see about that.”
Shaking with fury, Isobel had picked a dress for Sophie and altered it in a way that flaunted her well-proportioned figure. The weight didn’t disappear, but the sleek black dress was a perfect canvas for her white-blonde hair and light green eyes and looked incredible on her.
Isobel, seventeen and pregnant, the daughter of a Puerto Rican father and Mexican mother, and Sophie, an obese fifteen-year-old being raised by her grandparents, had been best friends ever since. Kindred spirits who knew how it felt to be considered different.
Unfortunately, Amber had been right, and Liam Wright asking Sophie Evans to the homecoming dance hadn’t been a sincere invitation at all, but rather, was part of a cruel high school prank. Since that day, Isobel’s sweet friend hadn’t fallen for or even dated another guy, no matter that she’d lost a hundred pounds and more closely resembled a curvier Marilyn Monroe than that shy, overweight teenager.
Now Sophie pondered Isobel with a thoughtful frown. “You know, maybe you just need to try something different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe all this time you’ve been eating chicken when really you’re a steak girl.”
A snort escaped Celeste.
“You’re right,” Sophie said. “Shea’s probably the steak. Maybe you’re a vegetarian.”
Isobel frowned at her friend, more than a little confused. “You think I’m a lesbian?”
“Okay, forget the metaphor.” Sophie’s hand sliced through the air. “What I’m trying to say is maybe you should go out with some other guys. Play the field a little bit. See what’s out there and what’s not. Then you’ll know if it’s really the end for you and Shea, or if he’s truly the only man for you.”
“Who would I date?”
One of Sophie’s eyebrows climbed skyward. “I heard you went to dinner with Cooper Spence.”
“It wasn’t a date,” Isobel said reflexively. “Besides, there’s no chemistry there. None. Zero. Zip.”
The women fell silent while they considered the handful of single men living on the small island.
Sophie brightened. “What about an online dating service?”
Isobel wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t those places full of lonely, bitter divorcées?”
Sophie blinked at her, and with the slow thickness of poured molasses, Isobel realized she’d just described herself.
The bell above the door chimed and Isobel jolted when her sister, Ava, burst into the store.
“OMG. Everyone is talking about last night. You gotta tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Isobel lied. “Nothing happened.”
A sly smile pulled at the corners of Ava’s wide mouth. “That’s not what I heard.”
“What did you hear?” Sophie held out the last coffee cup to Ava.
Isobel gasped.
“What?” Sophie lifted her small shoulders. “We should know what they’re saying, even if it’s a complete fabrication and, more likely than not, mean-spirited in nature.”
“Who cares what they’re saying?” Isobel stepped over to the bridal veils and started straightening the display.
“Trust me, as someone who’s been the subject of more gossip than anyone else in the history of gossip, it’s better to know than to be blindsided.”
Ava danced with impatience. “Come on, Iz, spill it.”
“There is nothing to spill.”
Sophie leaned close to Ava. “Whaddya hear?”
Ava’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone. “Shea beat up Cooper Spence when he caught Isobel making out with him.”
“That is not true!”
“No?” Ava sipped her coffee. “Then why don’t you tell us what really happened?”
“Cooper and I were having a business meeting, discussing business, when we bumped into Shea. That’s it.”
“A business meeting, huh?” Sophie tried to hide her smirk behind her coffee cup. “I wonder what Shea thought of that.”
“Nothing. He didn’t think anything.” Isobel fussed with a tangled mass of tulle and gossamer fabrics.
“Is that why he threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of Carter’s?”
Isobel’s arms dropped heavily. “Oh, for the love…”
“Tell me that’s what really happened.” Sophie clasped her hands in front of her. “I need this story to be true.”
“It’s not true,” Isobel bit out.
“Which part is untrue?” Sophie asked. “Be specific.”
“He did not throw me over his shoulder. I doubt he could.”
“I don’t,” Sophie muttered. “Have you seen his butt?”
A sound like a gasp but with entirely too much laughter erupted from Ava. “You’re bad.”
“I can’t control it. I’m sexually repressed.” She turned wide green eyes on Isobel. “Then what happened?”
“Nothing. Can we please talk about something else?”
“They kissed,” Ava whispered.
Sophie propped her elbow on the counter and rested her chin in her palm. “They did? Was it a nice kiss, or like an angry, possessive kind of thing?”
“I’m guessing the latter.”
“Me, too.” Sophie’s dreamy sigh pulled a reluctant laugh from Isobel.
“Would you two please stop?”
“I bet there was tongue.”
Ava nodded. “For sure.”
“Fine.” The word shot from Isobel and both women turned huge round eyes on her. “You win. Yes, Shea ruined my business meeting with Cooper. Yes, he was angry, and yes, he kissed me.” Her skin prickled with the memory of his hot mouth on her lips, her neck, her breasts. She made a small gesture toward Sophie. “The way you described it.”
Sophie smacked the counter with her palm. “I knew it.”
“But we are not getting back together.” The words snagged in Isobel’s throat. “We’re just not.”
In the silence that followed her statement, a tangle of ugly, unbearable emotion swamped her. Because she didn’t know how to fix what was wrong with her marriage, she’d let them all down—her friends and family, Shea’s brothers and her new sisters-in-law. Most of all, her children and Shea.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Iz,” Ava said quietly. “We know you guys have been trying. We’re just rooting for you, that’s all.”
“Of course we are. I mean, the man’s hair turned gray for you.”
Isobel frowned at her friend. “What are you talking about?”
“His hair was dark until you guys split up,” Sophie said. “The color changed when his heart broke.”
Isobel pretended immense interest in the veils. “That’d be a romantic story if it were true.”
How could she have broken his heart? She didn’t leave him—he left her.
Sophie heaved a weary sigh into the air. “But if you don’t love him anymore, you can’t stay married to him.”
“It’s not that.” Isobel’s quick denial drew three pairs of knowing eyes to her face. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
And because she loved Shea, she couldn’t let their sham of a marriage drag on another two, ten, eighteen years. Their kids deserved better. They deserved better. He would never end it—his pride wouldn’t let him. Which meant she had to be the one to do it. For once, she had to be the strong one in their relationship.
“That’s why I’ve contacted Miles Sinclair.”
At mention of the island’s lone divorce attorney, a sneer curled Celeste’s thin lips and Sophie made a hasty sign of the cross.
Ever the peacekeeper, Ava jumped in. “Let’s talk about something fun.”
“Good idea,” Sophie said. “Whatcha got?”
“I want to throw Finn a birthday party.”
Isobel suppressed a groan. Though she was only thirty-five years old herself, her baby was turning eighteen next month. Combine that with the end of her marriage, and a party was just about the last thing Isobel wanted.
But the absolute last thing she wanted was to disappoint either Ava or Finn. “He might like that.”
“It’ll be fun,” Ava stated. Then she lifted her coffee to her lips and her next words were muffled behind the cardboard cup. “I’m thinking I might invite Dad.”
Pain slashed at Isobel’s heart, sharp and stinging.
“When’s the last time you talked to him?” Ava asked gently.
“Not since he kicked me out.” Isobel despised the bitterness in her voice.
“That was, what, sixteen years ago?”
“Eighteen.”
“You haven’t talked to him in eighteen years?” Disapproval darkened Ava’s expression. “Isobel, he’s our dad.”
So what? Isobel wanted to shout. I’m his daughter and he kicked me out. The angry words built in her throat, but she swallowed them down with a ruthless gulp.
“You should call him.” Ava elbowed Sophie in the ribs. “Tell her she should call him.”
Sophie reared back. “Oh no, sorry. I’m not her tough-love friend. I’m the friend who enables her in everything she wants to do. Good choices, bad choices. Whatever she wants is fine by me.”
Isobel offered her friend a warm smile. “That’s one more reason why I love you.”
“It’s not about tough love,” Ava argued. “He’s our dad.”
“And he disowned me,” Isobel snapped.
Her sister was poking at an old wound, one that might have healed over with scar tissue but would forever nag and ache. Isobel tried not to take Ava’s words personally. She meant well, but she’d been only eight or nine years old when their mom died and their dad threw Isobel out of their home. She simply didn’t understand all that had happened back then.
“You know how he is.” Ava waved her hand with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “He was upset.”
“You think I wasn’t upset?” Isobel gaped at her sister. “I was seventeen and pregnant with no money and nowhere to go.”
“I’m sorry.” Ava’s blue-gray eyes filled with misery. “I’m not trying to make you mad. I just… I just think it’s sad, that’s all.”
Isobel’s heart gave a violent lurch. “On that we can agree.”
Just then, movement through the storefront window captured Isobel’s attention. A man strode down the sidewalk, the morning sun picking out the golden threads in his brown hair.
Her heart spasmed in her chest to see Miles Sinclair arriving at his law office across the street, but she steeled herself against the painful wrenches.
“Celeste, I’m going to take a quick break,” Isobel said as she moved toward the door.
This was it. This was the last heartbreak she must suffer before things would start to look up for her.
Wouldn’t they?
She gave herself a mental shake and pushed away the doubt.
Of course they would. How could they not?