A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

On Thursday morning, Derek arrived at Always a Bride intent on talking to Ginger about the financials. They were so busy the past weekend and on Monday that he didn’t have time to mention it. Now he would sit down with her and figure out a plan to save the business before he lost it.

That would be the worst. All of his mother’s hard work would be flushed down the toilet. He wanted to figure this out before Ginger retired in a week. A week! Ever since Ginger told him she planned on retiring back in January, they’d searched and searched for an adequate replacement but to no avail. Once Ginger left, he could become a bridal shop flop.

Derek sighed. What would he do without her? She was the backbone of this place.

He’d brought Jamila along today. He hoped to get her engaged in working with him too. “Hey, Jamila. You want to help me straighten up some of the displays that were rearranged yesterday?”

“No.” She tossed her backpack on the register’s counter.

The sight of his daughter ripped off a piece of his heart. Hunched over and sullen, she wore a black hoodie, black jeans, and black sneakers, overly dressed for this warm spring day. Her dark, curly hair was dry and lackluster around her russet face. He wouldn’t allow his daughter to check out on him emotionally. She was his only family left. “Okay, hon. You let me know if you change your mind.”

She headed to the break room in the rear. The door slammed shut behind her.

O-kay. So much for father-daughter bonding time.

As soon as Derek flipped on the store lights, the sound of familiar laughter greeted him.

His fingertips numbed, tingly and cool. The sensation sped up his forearms and cloaked his shoulders. Was thatGrace?

He headed near the sound, and he spotted a petite young woman in a coral sundress and brown sandals. She rested her elbows on the jewelry counter, gold bangles jangling on her wrists. With pin-straight black hair falling loosely around her golden-brown shoulders, the woman looked enough like Grace to make his heart stutter. Upbeat. Confident.

He blinked a couple more times, a feeble attempt to steady himself. Those few seconds erased the similarities. He was lonely. That was all. The woman before him had the same build and coloring, but Grace had a simple, laid-back style, while this woman seemed like a go-getter.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

The air conditioner rumbled to life and blew cool air through the overhead vents. She brushed her hands over her bare arms as if to warm herself. Derek glanced at her left hand. No ring.

She must’ve noticed him staring, because she hid her hand underneath the wedding gown she held. Was a lack of an engagement ring a sore spot for her?

Then she stood taller, as if regaining composure, no longer relying on the jewelry counter for support.

Derek held her gaze for a moment, and a current passed between them. Goose bumps prickled on his forearms. Must be a draft from the air-conditioning.

When Derek remained silent, the woman smiled. “This shop has a lot of character,” she said, brown eyes glimmering. Her lashes were dark and thick, framing her rounded eyes perfectly.

“It definitely has character.” Derek pushed aside his subtle attraction. Taking care of his daughter and taking care of the store were his only concerns. “How can I help you?” he repeated.

“I’m visiting South Carolina. I’m looking to sell a few of my wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses while I’m here.”

Derek would have to replace the dress Bridezilla had ripped. The last thing he needed was damaged merchandise. He needed to bring in income, not lose it.

“Derek!” Ginger’s voice called from behind. “There you are. Good morning.”

“Morning,” Derek said, still wondering about this woman.

“I wanted you to meet this lovely young lady, Maya Jackson. She’s a bridal gown designer and Carl’s daughter. You remember Carl, right, Derek?” Ginger winked.

Derek rolled his eyes. Carl was Ginger’s “friend.” According to Ginger, Carl started attending New Life, and they became an item a few months ago. Derek hadn’t been to New Life since Grace died in the mass shooting at the church. He wasn’t stepping foot in that place ever again. “Yes, Ginger. I remember.”

“No need to roll your eyes at me.” Ginger swatted his shoulder as if he were a child. “Carl fractured his hip. Maya’s in town temporarily to help her father get back on his feet.”

Derek glanced at Maya. What was the point of this conversation? He had to talk to Ginger about the financials. “Good to know.”

“I was so worried when the doctor told us the news.” Ginger grabbed a scarf from the rack and folded it neatly into fourths. “Hip fractures are major. Carl is a fighter. He’ll get well soon.”

That was sad to hear about this lady’s father, but he had his own problems to handle. “Ginger, do you have a minute? We need to discuss something very important.”

“Sure. Sure.” She waved him off. “But first . . . I wanted to introduce you to Maya.”

O-kay. “We met already.”

“Maya needs to gather some income until she returns to New York at the end of June.”

“Maya told me that she wants to sell some of her dresses,” Derek said.

“We should take a look at them.” Ginger showed Maya’s portfolio to Derek. “See this one right here?”

He saw. It was a nice dress, but he wasn’t thinking about buying dresses. He was thinking about getting out of this financial hole.

“What’s the wholesale price?” Ginger asked Maya.

“Seventeen hundred dollars wholesale.”

“Great. We’ll take it,” Ginger said.

Derek’s alarms went off. Seventeen hundred dollars? That was pricey. “We can’t afford that, Ginger. It’s not in our inventory budget.”

“It is now.” She smiled at Maya. “When can you bring the dress?”

“I can bring it over tomorrow morning.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” Derek said. “This is not a thing that we’re doing, Ginger. This is definitely not a thing that we’re doing. We really need to talk about this business.”

“You don’t want to purchase just one dress from Maya?” Ginger asked, her voice pleading and judging all at once. How did she manage that?

“Not even one.” Derek glanced at Maya. “Sorry, ma’am. I can’t take on another expense. I have to figure out how to keep us from foreclosure. I hope you understand.”

“Foreclosure?!” Ginger said. “When do you go into foreclosure?”

“In two months if I can’t come up with the missed mortgage payments,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I could’ve handled it by now. That’s what I wanted to talk about, Ginger.”

Maya shifted her weight from side to side, apparently uncomfortable. “I get it. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

“Do you have a business card?” Ginger asked. “I’d still like to keep you in mind. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” She raised her brow at Derek, and he soon felt like that little kid at Sunday school again.

“Sure thing.” Maya dug in her purse and handed one over to Ginger.

“Derek’s being stubborn,” Ginger said to Maya. “Your talents are going to bless many a blushing bride.”

“How kind of you to say.” Maya smiled.

A glow from an overhead spotlight spilled over her, and Derek’s pulse revved two notches. Maya was beautiful. For a stretch of time, all else faded into oblivion.

Maya stepped to the left, away from the spotlight. Derek pushed aside his attraction. He wasn’t ready to be interested in someone again. He would never be ready, to be honest. “Have a nice day, Maya.”

After she left, Derek redirected his attention to Ginger. “I need to speak with you about the store.”

“I just can’t believe we’re about to be foreclosed on, Derek. You should’ve told me earlier.”

He paused. “I know. How will I run this place? How will I get out of this financial hole? I know you’re retiring, but you’ve been here with my mother from the beginning. You know everything about this place. If you’re retiring, then my only other option is to sell.”

Sadness flitted across her features. “Sell?”

“Sell,” Derek said. “Marlon said my options were bankruptcy or selling.”

“That’s what you’re gonna do?”

“I have no other choice.”

“Your mother worked too hard for you to up and sell it from under her.” Ginger stared at Derek. “She would be mortified to even hear of it.”

The guilt set in. His mother had invested so much into this place. It was her lifeline after his father left them, and in a way, it was his lifeline too. Coming to work here every day was his way of remaining connected to her memory, and Grace’s too. “I know that. I don’t want to sell. I was hoping we’d discuss a way to make this place thrive, but you’re leaving. I’ve been in the military for twenty years of my life. Weddings and bridal gowns are not my forte. You saw me here during the sale the other day. You saw me flounder with the customers here. You’ve got to stay.”

“I don’t think you should sell this place either. This business is practically a historical landmark. It’s right there with Gadsden’s Wharf and the Black history museum down the block. They’re trying to shut down the museum, you know. New Life Church is trying to keep it running. If the boutique closes too, that’ll be a double whammy. Your mother made history when she opened this shop in the eighties. You’ve got to keep it running for the culture.”

“For the culture”? Derek didn’t know Ginger was so woke. Even still, maintaining Mother’s legacy was a costly burden to bear. Yes, he had the memories, but the place was draining his pockets daily. “Your retiring isn’t gonna help.”

“That’s why I brought Maya over. I didn’t tell her that, but it was in my thinking,” Ginger said. “She would be a great replacement.”

“Isn’t she only in town temporarily?”

“Yes, but I think she’d be able to fill in the gap until you found a more permanent replacement. We’ve been trying to find an adequate replacement for a while, and my last day is soon.”

Her mention of a “last day” made Derek’s stomach tighten. “You’ve been here for thirty-four years. How will Maya learn the ropes?”

“She’s not a newbie at this business. She can do it. You can do it too. I have full faith in you. Don’t forget that you are your mother’s son. Even though you may not have bridal shop experience and customer service skills and people skills and—”

“And all the skills and know-how that’s needed to run this place,” Derek said.

“You have your mother’s heart. You know how much this place meant to her. That’s enough to help you fill in any gaps.”

Gaps like business debt? He doubted it. “I can’t do this on my own, Ginger. Even if Maya wanted to fill in temporarily, I can’t run this place without you.” Derek wanted to say more, but he left those words unspoken. The words about how inadequate he felt not just with the store, but with relating to Jamila. The words about how Ginger had guided him through the aftermath of his wife’s death and his mother’s death. Ginger was an anchor during those moments when he’d almost fallen apart.

“You’ll do good, son,” Ginger said, smiling. “I believe in you. I’m going to get some breakfast. You need anything?”

I need you to stay at the boutique and help me run it.“Nothing for me. But you can grab a vegetable omelet and orange juice for Jamila. She’s sulking in the back.”

She paused. “You’ll take care of Jamila too.” Ginger placed Maya’s business card in his hands. “Call this lady. She will change your life. Believe me.”

After Ginger left, Derek studied the business card. Call her after he just turned her down? That would come across as inconsistent on his part. It wasn’t like she would agree to working here temporarily, especially if she was some fancy New York designer.

He could also find some other way, but with Ginger leaving he’d be doing most of the work himself.

What now? The most logical thing would be to sell this place, but there was history on the line. There was his mother’s dream to uphold.

And there was his guilt to ease.

Jamila was very attached to this place too, even if she sulked around him. Her gloom had more to do with him than with the store. Jamila grew up in this little boutique. If he sold it, his daughter would be crushed. The last thing he needed was to let her down again. He was having enough trouble connecting with his daughter already.

Right now, he didn’t have any other choice.

“Guess, I’ll have to call Maya after all,” he said to the mannequin next to him. “You think she would be interested in being a temporary employee for a bridal shop?”

The mannequin didn’t respond. Derek didn’t have an answer either, but Ginger believed in Maya. So Derek would call her and ask.

The following day, Maya started the ignition of her father’s gray sedan and drove to the bank. She still thought about her meeting with Derek. That was a wasted attempt to make a dress sale. That Derek guy didn’t even want to take one look at her portfolio. Why was Ginger so insistent on getting Maya down to the store if Derek was so close-minded about everything?

If she didn’t bring in any income soon, she’d be behind on the rent for her New York studio apartment. She needed her residence, much like she needed to keep her job. This whole leave-without-pay stuff was tough, especially after witnessing how careless Pops was with bills. Who knew if he was behind on payments? He was so disorganized.

Hopefully her meeting with the bank loan officer would go well today. If her application for a loan was approved, Maya’s finances would be more stable, family emergency or not. The loan would also help cover some of her father’s uninsured medical costs too. Some. Health insurance was tricky these days.

Too bad Derek Sullivan didn’t place an order on the spot, though. Maya preferred cash income over additional debts any day.

Derek was good-looking. Didn’t appear to be the emotional type. He must harbor sadness inside. His clipped speech and steady gaze told her as much.

Besides, she could recognize loss a mile away.

Maya Jackson refused to get angsty about the losses in her life. Or sour. If it weren’t for her persistence, she would turn into a ball of self-pitying mush. A jilted bride, Maya refused to put herself in a position where she’d get her heart broken again. Maya and Rex, her ex-fiancé, were together for three long years. Sigh. She’d remain focused on her career.

Thankfully, she still had faith. Faith would lead to a loan approval. Right now, she was barely making it. She needed this loan yesterday.

Maya jerked her car into the parking lot of Charleston Community Bank. A smattering of vehicles were parked here and there. Maya checked the digital clock on the dashboard. Five minutes until her appointment time. She whipped the steering wheel, parked her car, and booked it to the bank’s entrance, hoping the loan officer wouldn’t notice her rushing.

The security guard swung open the front door, and she stepped inside the air-conditioned bank. Maya whistled an upbeat melody, striding to the customer service desk. Her heels clacked on the tile, a resounding noise in the silent bank. A couple of patrons turned in her direction and frowned. Maya smiled and kept walking.

While Maya had recovered from her last blood transfusion, she’d spent a few hours preparing this loan application, creating a financial statement that proved she was creditworthy. Everything was pitch perfect. That guaranteed the bank’s approval.

Whistling, Maya waited in line. When her turn arrived, eagerness got the best of her. She bumped into a baby stroller, said a quick “Excuse me,” and extended her hand to the receptionist.

Still smiling.

“You made it just in time,” a twangy voice called from behind.

Maya turned and saw a sixty-something, rail-thin woman in a navy suit, with a severely tight bun, glaring at her. The lady didn’t seem too friendly. Please don’t let this be the loan officer. “Ma’am?” she said in her most cordial voice.

“I’m Ursula Evans. You Maya Jackson, the fashion designer?”

“That’s me.”

The older woman gave Maya a once-over. “I can tell by those fancy-schmancy clothes. Follow me.” The woman did an about-face, and Maya hustled behind her.

Seconds later, they entered a cramped, cluttered office. The walls were littered with plaques engraved with the name “Ursula Evans”: one for five years of service, another for ten, another for twenty, another for thirty, and still another for forty full years of service. The woman even had a plaque for never using a sick day for two decades. The office teemed with boxes of file folders stuffed with papers. If someone lit a match in the place, it would instantly burst into flames.

“Have a seat,” the loan officer ordered.

Maya couldn’t find the chair.

The woman grunted, lifted two banker’s boxes from a seat, and dropped them on the floor. A flurry of dust bunnies floated up to Maya’s nose, causing her to sneeze.

“You got a cold?”

“Er, no, ma’am.” Maya pulled a Kleenex from her black clutch and blew her nose.

“Good. I’m sixty-five years old, and my immune system is shot. I can’t afford to suffer from a contagious disease. Especially now that I’m retiring and my monthly pension will be slashed in half due to the bad economy.”

Maya offered a cheeky grin. Focus on the positive. “Congratulations on your retirement.”

“Nothing to congratulate. I was forced into it. Now, why do you want our money?”

Maya’s rehearsed speech turned to mush in her brain. “Well. Yes. Um.”

The loan officer pulled a blue file out of her drawer and flipped it open. “Says here you are employed and—”

“I’m employed, but I’m on unpaid leave.”

Ursula rolled her eyes. “You mess up on your job or something? Because we don’t hand out loans to people who have disciplinary actions against them at work.”

“No. I had a family emergency.” Maya shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the prospect of talking about her father’s situation. The more she talked, the more worried she felt. “My father fell and broke his hip. I was in New York when it happened. Rushed down here as soon as I heard.”

Ursula clasped her hands together and leaned over the desk, her sparkly red reindeer earrings glittering in the fluorescent lights. Reindeer earrings in the spring. Interesting move. “How long are you off work?”

“Until the end of June. I hope to return sooner if I can. It depends on my father’s mobility.”

“That’s a long time without any income. How will you repay this loan?”

Anxiety strangled Maya, a response lodged somewhere between her larynx and her throat, unwilling to let go. “Once I get back to work, things should be good. Also, I’m working on garnering revenue by selling my gowns to private clients, boutiques, and larger department stores.”

“So you’re self-employed too?”

“Sort of. Not officially. I haven’t created a business plan or anything. It’s just a way to earn some income until I return to work. My job is my main source of income.”

“It isn’t right now. Anyone bought your stuff yet?” Ursula asked.

An image of Derek flashed in her mind. “No.”

“Have you ever owned a business before?”

Did a lemonade stand in fifth grade count? “No.”

“You should give self-employment some serious thought. Employers can be fickle. I already told you about the issues with my reduced retirement check. These days, the only person you can count on is yourself. Because of your credit rating and your current leave-without-pay situation, we can give you a small personal loan of five hundred dollars. Not much else.”

Five hundred dollars? That was it? Her rent alone was three thousand dollars a month, and it was due in two weeks. Her vacation pay and this tiny loan only covered one month of rent and nothing else. She’d have to earn money another way to cover her rent for future months. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Ursula shrugged. “Don’t you have a credit card?”

“It’s maxed out. My savings is almost drained too.”

“Sorry to hear that. If you had a small business, you could apply for a small business loan with us to cover your start-up costs. You’d have to show us a business plan and a business license and all of that jazz. You should give it some thought.”

Maya’s dream had always been to work for Laura Whitcomb, and she’d gotten her dream. Now that she was there, there was no way she’d give that up for a business. Self-employment was risky anyway. She tried her best to make that dress sale at the boutique, and it’d gotten her nowhere. “I’m not ready to own a business, but thanks for the loan.”

“You’re welcome.” Ursula stood up and shook Maya’s hand. “I gotta get to my lunch break. If you go to the front teller’s window and give them your Social Security number, you’ll get a direct deposit of the loan into your account today. Have a nice day.” In seconds, Ursula disappeared, slamming the door behind her.

Maya’s hopes fizzled. Splat. She fisted her hands together and took a deep breath to steady herself. Persist. Persist. Persist. That was what Mama would say, but right now, persistence seemed hard. I’ll have to sell a dress or two or fifty. Or figure out another way.

Grabbing her purse, Maya strode toward the bank lobby and waited in line for the next teller. Despite the cool temperature in the building, dampness clung to her skin and soaked the small of her back. Yucky worry. It did nothing but add weight to the pressures threatening to take her under.

Maya exhaled. “What do I do now?”

She waited for a response from above.

Nothing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, careful not to let emotion get the best of her. Her cell phone trilled and an unfamiliar number flitted across the screen. Who was this? Not many unknown numbers called her. “Hello?” she answered.

“Miss Jackson?”

The deep timbre of that voice jogged her awareness. Derek. She’d met him only yesterday, but she would recognize that voice anywhere. His tone held a ring to it that accelerated all that prickling.

Prickling? Since when did she let herself get all prickly? Note to self: Stop it. “Derek?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m calling because an interesting opportunity just came up. I know you’re looking to earn some extra cash. Ginger recommended I get in touch with you again about selling dresses at the store. After I spoke to her more, I realized she was right.”

Of course Ginger’s right. “Oh.”

“I wanted to know if you could return to the shop. Perhaps bring your portfolio and one or two dress samples. I’d like to look them over. Please?”

Maya twisted her mouth. This guy already had refused her offer. If she had any ounce of self-respect, she’d say no. She tugged on the hem of her sundress and inched forward in the line. Maya could also figure out another way to earn extra cash. She had to check out that other boutique in town that Laura had mentioned anyway.

“Do you think you could stop by again today?”

Oh, this dude just wants me to drop everything, huh?“I have other plans today.”

“Oh really? What plans?”

He was nosy too? Sheesh. “Why do you need to know?”

“Just asking. No reason.” His volume lowered and the sound of customers in the background filtered through the phone line. “I’d really like you to stop by the store again, whenever it’s most convenient for you. What do you think?”

He was willing to be flexible and meet on her terms. That was hopeful.

“Miss Jackson?”

Maya floated out of her private reverie. “Yes?”

“Would you be willing to stop by again?”

Maya thought of the portfolio shoved in her attaché. All was not lost. She still had a chance to pitch her designs to Derek and hopefully make enough money to cover what she didn’t get in her loan. “Yes.”

His voice deepened. “When will you stop by?”

The idea of seeing Derek again sent a flurry of anticipation through the pit of her belly. She squelched it. “Does Monday work?”

“I’ll be here Monday—waiting.”

After saying goodbye, she went to the teller’s window and arranged for the electronic transfer of her loan. When she thought of Derek’s smile, Maya’s steps stuttered in time with her skipped heartbeat.

Note to self: Stop it, again.

No matter what, she had to ignore Derek’s beautiful smile. No matter what, she had to ignore Derek’s kind ways. No matter what, she had to help brides realize their own happily ever afters, never her own.

For Maya, love was simply fodder for fairy tales.