A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

Captain Derek T. Sullivan stood prepared for battle against another Lowcountry bridezilla ready to attack.

Bridezilla planted both fists on rounded hips. With her head cocked to one side, she aimed to fire. “What do you mean you’re out of size eights?”

Could he speak any more clearly? “We’re out of stock. You’re wearing the last size eight, ma’am.” Derek added the “ma’am” for good measure, always the gentleman.

He hung another seventy-pound wedding gown on the dress rack. Bridezilla had tried on an endless number of dresses over the last seven hours. Though mental fatigue had set in, he remained alert, ready to help this woman make up her mind. During his navy days, he’d spent many nights on watch. He was used to working long hours.

The shop had had a steady stream of customers over the past few days. Derek was certain this special sale would help him turn a profit this time. It was this or foreclosure.

The bank had sent its notice this morning. He had two months to pay the past due mortgage. If he didn’t, Always a Bride would be done, done, done.

So he’d deal with picky customers whether he liked it or not.

Today, he’d have to like it. He’d have to garner every possible sale.

A gaggle of women stormed inside the downtown Charleston shop. Many of them waved red sales flyers, a thunderous sea of buyer frenzy. It would be another long evening, but he remained optimistic. With Ginger, the longtime manager, at his side, they would triumph. This would be the day that the store made a financial turnaround.

Derek squared his shoulders, ready to take command of the boutique just as he had taken command of numerous aircraft carriers over his twenty-year military career.

Bridezilla stepped outside of the dressing room and twirled in front of a gilded mirror. “Doesn’t feel like a size eight.”

The sound of ripping fabric pierced the air. Panic flashed across her features. “Was that me?”

Derek winced and quickly averted his eyes. A response clogged his throat.

“Double-check the tag for me.” She pointed to Derek as if he were a misbehaving child. “This is not a size eight.”

Blood rushed to Derek’s head. He needed to call in reinforcements. This was too much to handle. “Ginger.”

“Are you trying to avoid me, mister?” Bridezilla stood close, too close for Derek to breathe.

He took a step backward. “No, ma’am. Ginger, our manager, can help you. She’s an expert at dress sizes.”

Bridezilla bent over to pick at the hem of the floor-length gown. The rip deepened.

Derek took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford damaged inventory, not with all the debts the store had accumulated since his mother, the founder of the boutique, passed away from cancer a year ago. His mother had had a policy of never charging customers for dresses they tried on in the store, even if those dresses incurred rips and tears along the way. Derek tried his best to keep with his mother’s tradition, even if it cost him.

“Are you sure this is a Leilani original?”

“Yes, it’s—”

“Did ya call, hon?” Ginger freed Derek from Bridezilla’s spur-of-the-moment cross-examination. As a child, Derek had avoided Ginger, especially when she nagged him about tucking his shirt in or not slouching when he sat. Now the woman with the golden-brown skin, the auburn hair, and the 1950s-style eyeglasses was a welcome reprieve.

“Ginger, this lady needs your assistance. She doesn’t think this gown is a Lei—”

“Finally!” Bridezilla threw her hands in the air. “Someone who can help me.”

Ginger gestured to the bride. “Follow me, dear.”

Ginger was a great salesperson. She could close a sale despite Bridezilla’s blowup. Could they close enough sales to cover three mortgage payments? He hoped so.

After Ginger and the customer left, Derek clambered past a dizzying crowd of women hovering over bins and bins of garters, pantyhose, bodices, and other items he’d rather not ponder. Derek had decided to sell the merchandise clogging the back room at a deep discount by placing an ad on the local radio station to attract customers. The next morning, the women of Charleston swarmed in like locusts on a mission: shop and devour.

The crowd left him dizzied, but it also gave him assurance. Always a Bride must’ve made good money today. Marlon, his accountant, was getting up-to-the-minute sales reports through their server. In fact, he’d call Marlon and get a status update now.

Derek grabbed the cordless from its cradle and dialed Marlon’s number. He picked up after the third ring.

“Hey, Marlon. How do the sales look?”

“It’s not looking good.”

Derek’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Not even today? We’re crowded and Ginger and I have rung up a slew of sales.”

“You’re barely breaking even. With the level of debts that your mother left behind, along with these poor sales numbers, things aren’t looking good at all.”

Derek shifted. The foreclosure notice crinkled in his back pocket. “I just got a notice from the bank today. If I don’t catch up on the mortgage by the beginning of May, the bank will start the foreclosure process. I’ve tried most everything to make a profit here. How can I turn things around?”

No sound on the other end. Then: “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“You might want to consider filing for bankruptcy.”

“Bankruptcy?”

“Yes. You’ll clear all of those debts and be done with the extra stress. The efforts you’ve made are commendable, but they’re not enough to save the boutique.”

If he filed for bankruptcy, that meant everything his mother worked for, everything he promised his mother that he’d maintain, would be lost. Derek couldn’t afford to let his mother down, even from the grave. He’d let his family down one too many times before.

Derek’s biggest regret was with Grace, his late wife. He’d never forgive himself for not saving Grace.

This business had to work. “I’m not entirely set on bankruptcy.”

“Sometimes we have to face the truth of the situation.”

That was the thing. Derek didn’t want to face the truth of the situation, not like this anyway. Always a Bride was a way for him to maintain his mother’s legacy, her memory, as well as Grace’s memory. She used to help out at the boutique too. While he was on deployments, he’d get emails with pictures of his mother, Grace, and his daughter, Jamila, working at the boutique together. He had smiled at those pictures and imagined Jamila growing up one day and taking over the family business. Always a Bride was an intergenerational legacy. If he filed for bankruptcy, those ties would be broken for good.

“You’re quiet, Derek. Do you have another idea?”

“No. But I don’t want to file for bankruptcy.”

“You could sell the business. That would save you from the embarrassment. A woman by the name of Marjorie Wilkinson sent me an email earlier today. She’s interested in buying the place.”

Derek’s neck muscles tightened, already not liking the sound of this. Selling the business was the same as filing for bankruptcy. He’d be throwing away a legacy. “Not interested.”

“If Ms. Wilkinson’s asking price is right, then I’d definitely consider it. The money from the sale would pay off all the debts. No bankruptcy hassles and red tape. You’d be free and clear to move on with your life.”

Move on to what? Jamila, now twelve years old, could hardly stand him, and he’d stopped getting too close to folks after Grace’s death. Why get close when people left? When people died?

“I know it’s tough, man. If you don’t want to sell to a stranger, how about selling to a friend? Would Ginger be interested in purchasing the place?”

“No. Ginger is retiring very soon.”

“Do you have any relatives who would be interested?”

A picture of his late wife’s gleaming casket flicked across his mind. Derek blinked it away. She died so horribly in that mass shooting. Three years later, and the grief was ever present, still thrumming under his skin, still causing a dull ache in his heart. “No other relatives.”

“How about friends?”

“I’ll need some time to think this over. I can’t make a decision today.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to. But when the business ship is sinking, you have to move on.”

Move on.Easier to dole out that advice than to actually live it. “I’ll get back to you with my next steps in a week or so.”

“A week?” Marlon asked. “Okay. I’m holding you to it.”

Derek ended the call and placed the phone back in its cradle. He thought about how his mother had worked so hard to start and maintain the store, often spending long days and nights there. She was the first Black woman to own a bridal shop in downtown Charleston in the eighties, quite a feat given the hardships she’d faced, including his father’s abandonment.

Downtown Charleston used to have a vibrant Black business district. After the slow repeal of Jim Crow laws, many Black-owned businesses eventually closed down during the sixties and seventies. Black people no longer had to travel farther downtown to shop, and White people didn’t rush to patronize the Black-owned businesses. Those were the unintended consequences of integration, and so starting and keeping Always a Bride was an uphill battle.

Derek had watched his mother work to keep the business running, and even when he was a kid, he encouraged her to keep going. She had worked hard and maintained hope despite it all.

What should he do with Always a Bride? How could he save it without filing for bankruptcy or selling the business? He didn’t know.

Derek stood and readied himself to face the customers once again. He’d try extra hard to make a couple more sales before the day’s end. He’d also let Ginger know about the boutique’s financial status. Derek hadn’t told her about the threat of foreclosure. He’d been too proud to say they were struggling, but he’d swallow his pride and tell Ginger now.

Perhaps she’d have some good ideas for Always a Bride. Ginger had been here since the place opened. She was as much a partner in Always a Bride as Derek, probably even more.

Maya had arrived in Charleston on Saturday evening. It was too late to sit down and drill her father about his health, so instead, she worked on her gown late into the wee hours of the morning.

Now that Maya had eight hours of sleep and faced a new day, she would focus on one thing: helping Pops get better.

“Have you been taking your blood pressure medicine?” Maya headed over to the half bathroom down the hallway and checked his medicine cabinet.

“Yes, I have,” he called from the living room.

The pause in her father’s voice told Maya to double-check. Before she moved to New York City, he was notorious for being forgetful. She took the orange pill bottles from the cabinet and inspected them. The bottles were filled to the top, as if he hadn’t taken any of his medicine. “When did you get these prescriptions filled?”

Silence. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Maya turned the bottles over in her hands and squinted at the fine print on the white label. These prescriptions were filled months ago. He hadn’t been taking his medicine. She headed to the living room, her pulse pounding.

“These bottles of medicine are full.” She held out one bottle and shook it vigorously.

Her father’s expression looked like that of a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

“Why haven’t you been taking your medications?” She set the bottles on the coffee table.

“Just got busy, love. So many things to take care of around here. I forget.”

She sighed. “I have alarms on my phone for my medication reminders. I can’t afford to miss a dose. You know how it is with sickle cell anemia. I take my health seriously. Why haven’t you?”

Pops leaned back in his wheelchair and gestured to Maya. “I’ve been doing fine without them. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? You’ve already fractured your hip. You don’t need to compound a new problem on top of it.”

“You worry too much. I’m fine. Those blood pressure medications have bad side effects anyway. I read about it online.”

Now he was getting his medical advice from the internet. Wonderful. “I think your doctor knows a bit more about your health than Google.”

He didn’t say a word. How would he fare when she returned to New York? Maya could nag him all she wanted today, but that wouldn’t change a thing if her father didn’t change his habits.

“Let me get your lunch ready.” She headed to the kitchen.

Her father was a widowed soul with peaceful eyes. He’d spent his days puttering around the garage before his hip fracture. Now he got around in a wheelchair. He was taking his fall and subsequent recovery period in stride, better than Maya had taken it. Was his happy outlook due to the fact that Ginger had been around? Probably so. If Ginger’s presence turned her father into an optimist, that was good. Leave all the worrying to Maya.

She heated up leftover sausage and red rice and set a plate before him.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“You mean after I finish making sure you’re okay?”

Pops smiled. “Yes.”

“I want to get this new gown close to completed.”

“The one you were working on when I fell asleep last night?”

“Yes. If I get it right, I could get the promotion. It’s still within my reach. And there’s another potential design gig too that I have for a celebrity.”

“That’s wonderful.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair. “Take it one step at a time. Balance is key. Don’t let work consume you. How are you doing otherwise?”

“Otherwise” meant How are you doing with your sickle cell? It was as hard for him to mention it as it was for Maya to live with it. They both knew her time was short. “As good as I can be.”

“I’m proud of you, love. You don’t have to stay up so late working on projects. You’ll be in Charleston for a few months.” He rested his chin in his hands. “Pace yourself.”

No time to pace herself. She would get her regular, monthly blood transfusion on Monday, and then she’d be focused on work. “I still have to pay the bills. I emailed Laura before I left New York and asked her if I could try to sell some of my gowns since I will be on leave without pay soon. Laura said she was fine with it. I’ll see if I’m successful with that. I’ll also see if I can get a personal loan to cover my rent. Laura wants me to show her line while I’m down here. Just because I’m on leave doesn’t mean I can slack off with Laura’s request.”

Pops shook his head. “Wait. Laura isn’t paying you for doing this work?”

“No. That’s why I’m thinking of taking out a personal loan. I want to apply for one at the bank downtown.”

He was quiet, but Maya sensed his disapproval nonetheless. She made herself a plate of leftovers and sat down. They ate in silence for a few minutes as the ceiling fan hummed a steady rhythm. She picked up the pile of unpaid bills from the kitchen table and flipped through them. More stuff to handle.

“Downtown you said?” her father asked.

“Yes.”

His eyes lit up. “Ah. Did I ever tell you that Ginger works at a bridal boutique downtown?”

A bridal boutique? That was cool. “No.”

“Ginger plans on retiring soon. Been working at the shop for a long time. She loves all things bridal. Kind of like you and your mother.”

Was that part of the reason Pops liked Ginger? Because of her similar interests in the bridal industry? How sweet. “Maybe Ginger and I can talk shop soon. I’m glad she helped you when you fractured your hip.”

“I’m glad that you’re glad,” Pops said.

“It’s a good thing that you decided to get out of the house and attend New Life last year, or else you wouldn’t have met Ginger.”

“I agree. She’s part of a church group that runs the food pantry. Their ministry is limited now because part of the congregation is looking for a new building to hold services while the other part opposes a new building. On top of that, half of the congregation attends services at the temporary building while the other half attends services at the old building. Pastor Clark holds services at two different locations on Sundays. Lots of squabbles.” He sighed. “Three years later, the church is still recovering from the mass shooting. That was way before my time as a church member, but it’s still tough for all involved.”

So tragic. So many people died at New Life Community Church that day. It made the national news. Maya wondered if the church and the community at large would ever heal from it. “I can see why it would be tough.”

“Very tough. Still, the church leadership is trying to raise money for a new church building and to preserve some of the historical Black landmarks around Charleston. They’re working with the Black history museum on the preservation efforts. They have a lot on their hands. Despite all that, Ginger insisted on putting me on the church’s sick and ailing list, but I don’t consider myself ailing.” Pops smiled. “Just out of service for a while. She wanted to come over today to meet you. She made dinner for me when I was recovering too.”

Pops and Ginger were definitely serious. Usually people just dropped off a dinner. They wouldn’t spend time in your kitchen cooking dinner. “So how were you eating before Ginger came into your life?”

Her father shrugged. “Oh, you know. I had a microwave meal or something.”

“Those TV dinners have too much sodium! That’s not good for your health.”

“Once I get out of this wheelchair, I’ll start cooking for myself. Ginger insists.”

A woman who didn’t make her man dependent on her for the everyday things. Not bad at all. If her father was planning to eventually cook healthy meals for himself, that was another plus in Ginger’s favor. Maya opened her mouth to ask more about New Life’s building fund when the doorbell rang. Its vibration resounded through the house, a thunderous clap. She needed to get that thing fixed. Another thing to do.

Then an insistent tap on the front window.

“It’s Ginger,” her father said.

The mystery person had arrived. Her father rolled himself in his wheelchair to the front door and opened it. An elderly woman with auburn hair sauntered in.

“Well, lookee there,” Ginger said.

Ginger was . . . a lot. Everything about her screamed RED!

“Smells great in here.” Ginger stepped inside and air-kissed Maya’s father.

Aww. That was cute.

“Ginger, you’re just in time for lunch. Come on in.”

“I don’t want to intrude. I just stopped by to tell you about the church . . .” She saw Maya and did a double take. “Is this your daughter?”

Maya gave a half-smile, cautiously optimistic about Ginger. Hopefully she was the real deal.

“My goodness. You told me you had a daughter, but you didn’t tell me how beautiful she was. You look so young to have a daughter, Carl.” Ginger clasped her hand over her mouth.

Amused, he tilted his head, salt-and-pepper hair shiny under the dim overhead lights. “I’m young, huh?”

“Yes, you are. Handsome.”

She squeezed his arm. They melded together well.

“Hello, young lady. I’m Ginger Hunter.” The woman extended her hand, and Maya shook it. Ginger’s grasp was firm but friendly.

“Hi.”

“I’m so glad that you came down south to care for your father. I tried to fill in while you weren’t here. I’m sure the two of you will have some great father-daughter bonding time.”

Ginger respected Maya’s relationship with her father too. Maya appreciated that. “I’m looking forward to spending time with Pops. I heard you called 911 when he fell. Thanks so much for being here.”

“I was so worried when that happened. If I weren’t around . . . I don’t even want to think about it.” Ginger’s mouth took a slight downturn.

Her response appeared sincere. Perhaps she wasn’t the type to skip out on Pops. Perhaps Ginger really cared for him. “Did he tell you that he’s supposed to take his blood pressure medicine twice a day?” Maya swiped up a full medicine bottle and shook it.

Ginger’s eyes widened. “You haven’t been taking your medicine, Carl?”

Maya smiled at how Ginger was on a casual first-name basis with Pops.

Her father’s eyes shifted. “Um. No. I’ll take it now, Ginger.” Her father motioned for the bottle. “Can I have it please?”

Maya exhaled. At least Ginger would be here to ensure Pops took his medications. Now, if only Pops were as eager about his pills as he was about eventually cooking for himself.

“Your father told me that you design bridal gowns up in New York City,” Ginger said.

“Yes.”

“How long have you been a designer?”

“For a while. I was my mother’s apprentice.”

“What a beautiful gift for a mother to pass on to her daughter. The gift of bridal gown design.” Ginger’s eyes twinkled. “She must’ve been a special woman.”

Maya’s heart warmed. “She was,” she said, her voice unsteady.

A silence hung in the room, and a knowing look crossed Ginger’s expression. She must’ve been giving Maya the space to process the mention of her mother. How kind.

“I’m the buyer for Always a Bride boutique, and I’m passionate about fashion. I would love to take a look at your work sometime.” She smiled. “Perhaps you can bring your dresses down to the shop.”

Maya hesitated. Even though she needed to sell her dresses, something held her back from accepting Ginger’s offer right away.

“You should take them down there, Maya. You brought plenty of your creations, along with your portfolio. You said you wanted to earn some extra money,” Pops said. “It sounds like a great opportunity.”

It was. Ginger was too generous, but what if Maya accepted Ginger’s offer, sold lots of dresses, and then Ginger and Pops eventually parted ways? Would Maya look like a fool for accepting Ginger’s generosity?

Relationships didn’t last forever. Nothing was guaranteed. If Pops and Ginger weren’t together anymore, then Ginger’s good influence on Pops would wear off too. He’d revert back to his old self.

“So, what do you think?” her father asked.

Maya looked at the medicine bottles on the table. Pops needed to be more self-reliant. She couldn’t trust that Ginger would be present all the time. “Do you plan on creating some type of reminder system for your medications? Something that you can take care of on your own?”

He paused. “Do you plan on taking Ginger up on her offer?”

Now she paused.

“The two of you are so funny together,” Ginger said, laughing. “Like father, like daughter.”

“More like her mother. She was just as headstrong. A hard worker too, just like Maya. Her mother spent hours and days and weeks making dresses. I was her cheerleader.” He wheeled himself over to the kitchen and grabbed a pitcher from the refrigerator. “I made fresh squeezed lemonade yesterday. I think it may surpass your mom’s recipe, Maya.”

The words were said lightly, but Maya felt sadness at the mention of her mother.

Ginger winked at Maya. “You should really consider bringing one of your dresses to Always a Bride. I would love to introduce a new line to the customers.”

“It’s a wonderful offer,” Maya said. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

“Sure. Not a problem at all.” Ginger shrugged. “Take as much time as you need.”

Pops shook his head. “What about that new dress you were working on last night? It’s beautiful.”

Ginger looked from Carl to Maya.

Why was he so insistent? “It needs some finishing touches, and I’m using it to apply for the head designer position,” Maya said, not wanting to feed into his pressure.

“How about your old wedding gown? You brought that down from New York too.” He glanced at Ginger. “Maya designed her wedding dress herself.”

Maya froze. Her wedding dress. Why did he keep talking about that thing? She would never give that one up. Ever.

“Oh, I would love to see it.” Ginger clapped her hands. “When you’re ready, of course.”

“It needs work too,” Maya said, gazing pointedly at her father. He knew that dress meant the world to Maya. Why mention it?

He appeared oblivious to her hint. “You should take one of them to Always a Bride.”

“I think Derek, the owner, would love them,” Ginger added, redirecting her attention to Maya. “You can bring the dress you feel comfortable selling. Always.”

Always.Ginger made it sound like she was committed, like she wasn’t going to be a temporary person in her father’s life. Would their relationship really last? Maya held in the question and bit her inner lip.

“Come on, Maya,” Pops said. They nodded their heads in unison.

Maya wanted to disappear into the wall. Was everyone ganging up on her today?

Her father lifted his glass of lemonade and took a gulp. “This looks like the perfect open door.” He leaned toward Ginger, whispering something in her ear. Ginger giggled.

Seeing her father all in love was cute. Embarrassing, but cute. Maya drummed her fingertips on the kitchen table. “Should I leave the two of you alone?”

“No,” they said in unison, still focused on each other.

Maybe their relationship would last for the long term . . . maybe.

“That dish you’re eating smells great, Carl.” Ginger placed her hand on his shoulder. “You have to share your recipe.”

Pops winked. “It was my dear wife’s recipe. May she rest in peace.”

A subtle pricking touched Maya’s heart. Pops and Ginger were so at ease with each other. So carefree and relaxed. He could even talk about Mama with her. It must be nice to have that kind of love. “I’ll leave you two alone. I want to get back to work.”

“Don’t leave, honey.” The sound of her father’s wheelchair followed behind her. “Don’t leave. Stay and chat with us.”

Maya paused. If she did that, then she’d feel like an intruder. She would also be reminded of what she didn’t have for herself—love. “I’m really busy.”

“She’s busy,” Ginger said, understanding in her tone. “All other things aside, Maya, I would love to introduce you to Derek. Your father said that you’re really talented, and I love fashion design. I’d be honored to take you to the store and pitch your gowns to him. My offer will always stand. Now or in the future.”

Now or in thefuture. Ginger must’ve read her thoughts or something.

“I promise,” Ginger added. “I know I said take your time, but I would really love to see all of your work. Would you want to stop by the shop tomorrow at three o’clock?”

Ginger said her offer would always stand, and Maya needed the extra cash. She had an appointment at the bank to apply for a personal loan, but selling her dresses locally was better than racking up debt. Besides, Laura wanted her to check out the local bridal boutiques anyway. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll accompany you to the boutique and bring my portfolio too. It’ll have to be on Thursday because I need a few days to . . .”

Maya wasn’t going to mention that she would spend a few days recovering from her blood transfusion. She didn’t want people to treat her like a sick person.

“. . . I need a few days to get my dresses and portfolio ready. I’ll be there on Thursday,” Maya continued.

Pops glanced at Maya with empathy in his eyes. He understood.

Ginger smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll be off work on Tuesday and Wednesday anyway. I return to the boutique on Thursday. So that’s perfect.”

Maya smiled. So now the woman who had helped her father was helping Maya too. Ginger was like a fairy godmother, but all wishes ran out at midnight, right? How long would it be before the Ginger goodness ended?

Maya didn’t know, but it was best to accept it. Her bills were calling. And so was Laura’s directive.