A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

Maya hated being late. Especially today, the day of the trunk show. Tardiness would shorten her set-up time, and Maya wanted to have all the preparation that she could get.

She sped down the interstate to the boutique. Maya had stayed up till four a.m. to finish stitching the hems of the gowns for the event, then crashed, planning to nap only an hour—or four. When Pops had tapped on her bedroom door, she’d panicked, dressed, and left the house.

Kicking herself for not managing her time better, she rehearsed her apology to Derek on the way. When she hung a right into an empty parking space in front of the tiny shop, it was closed. Did something happen to Derek?

She opened her handbag and pulled out her phone to see if he’d left a message. He’d texted her.

Maya, we’re on our way.

“We’re”? Did that mean Derek and Jamila? She’d soon find out. Maya set her phone down. If Jamila came along, then perhaps this would be the perfect time to try to connect with her, to help Jamila see that Maya wasn’t the bad guy.

If Jamila wasn’t coming along, then Maya wouldn’t sweat it. She had enough on her plate as it was with the trunk show. This was her chance to show off her work. That was a lot in itself. Nerves rattled, she took a deep breath and rested her head against the steering wheel.

Cat’s media influence would help spread the word, but Maya would have to bring the talent. Four hours of sleep didn’t make for being too energetic. Derek would help out too. Despite their clumsy moments, he was proving to be a godsend overall.

Derek’s generosity was almost too much. Although the boutique had been financially challenging for him, he still agreed to give her designs a chance. He was open to her creative ideas too, anything to keep the store’s legacy intact.

If his mother were still alive, she would be proud.

Yet his openness took her off guard at times. She had never cultivated solid friendships with people, people who could help her whenever she was in a fix and who believed in her so much. Derek’s constant kindness tugged on her emotions. It made her consider another possibility for her career. It didn’t help that she liked Derek. She liked him. A lot.

She groaned. Liking didn’t mean anything. She liked a lot of things—five-hundred-thread-count sheets, designer handbags—but she couldn’t afford any of it. Falling for him wasn’t prudent. The notion of getting involved with anyone made her cheeks flare. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Yup, good thing she had a brown hue. Otherwise, she’d be red right about now.

Maya decided to wait until Derek arrived. She needed to take a breather after rushing out of the house this morning. She was fatigued and didn’t want to risk having a pain episode during the trunk show. Maya rolled down the window, but southern humidity exacerbated the frizz in her natural hair. When she first arrived in South Carolina, she tried to fight the curl. She straight-ironed her hair every chance she got. But the more Maya grew accustomed to the Lowcountry, the more she let her hair go back to its natural state. It was freeing.

She turned on her car and blasted the air, hoping this would calm her nerves. It didn’t. Maya reached in her purse and spritzed a curl refresher spray in her hair, twisting the strands so they’d be bouncy again. When in hair-doubt, tie the curls up into a loose knot.

She needed to ignore her blooming feelings for Derek and focus on this trunk show. It was all business. Nothing more.

Maya slid her seat back a few notches and stared at the car roof. From here on out, she’d make a concentrated effort to focus on her business.

Do not get distracted with Derek.

Derek’s truck pulled into an empty parking space next to her. Jamila was in the front passenger seat. She’d accompanied him after all. Jamila had been on an anti-Maya campaign since they’d first met. Did she have a change of heart?

Jamila glanced out her window and gave Maya the side-eye.

Nope. Didn’t have a change of heart. Guess Maya would navigate all of that today too. Operation Win Over Jamila was now in effect.

Brown shopping bags, a trunk, and some boxes filled Derek’s pickup. He turned off the ignition and walked around the front of his truck to meet Maya on the sidewalk.

Maya smoothed the front of her paisley skirt. “How are you doing?”

Derek grinned. “Doing good. I brought supplies.” He motioned to the back of the truck. “I figured you’d need help prepping for the show, so I brought some extra things.”

Maya glanced at Jamila. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she had a permanent frown on her face. “I see.”

A knowing look flitted across Derek’s face. “I wanted to take Jamila with me to Gadsden’s Wharf after the trunk show today. So I brought her along.”

“Jamila complied?” Maya whispered.

“I wouldn’t say all of that. But she’s here,” Derek whispered, and then he gestured to his daughter. “Come on, Jamila. We’re going to need your help today.”

Jamila hopped out of the truck, her mouth pursed into a thin line. Maya still wanted to figure out a way to reach out to Jamila. She hadn’t lost hope of that occurring.

Derek unlocked the tailgate at the back of the truck, and Maya followed him. She reached in and lifted a black trunk from the pickup bed.

“I’ll carry the heavy items,” Derek said.

“I can carry them.” Maya worked her arms around the trunk’s gold handles and lifted it with a grunt. Did someone pack this thing with bricks?

He suppressed a grin. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Maya said, her voice certain. She’d carried heavy things before. Why should this be different?

The trunk dropped to the cement pavement.

Embarrassed, Maya stepped back. “All right, all right. You can help.”

Together, they lifted it and walked it up to the curb. A cool breeze rustled through her hair, and her ponytail holder slipped loose. She finger-combed her curls away from her cheeks, only to have them whip over to the other side of her face. Lordy.

Derek stopped and stared at her. His gaze made her zing. Should she be thrilled or embarrassed about the feeling? The more he stared, the more embarrassment took over.

“What?” Maya asked.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “We better get set up.”

Don’t put your feelings out there, Maya. Derek has enough to deal with. Plus, Jamila was staring at them. Best to stay away.

They stepped inside the boutique, setting the trunk on the floor. Jamila opened her Spotify app and connected her smartphone to the speaker. A hip-hop song blasted through the store.

“For decor, we’ll have an African and Asian fairy-tale theme,” Maya said. “I figured that a few touches here and there would make it stand out.”

“It would. I thought this may help too.” Derek opened the trunk and showed Maya the gorgeous red and burnt-orange fabrics, which shimmered underneath the store lights. “I got them from Mother’s storage.”

Maya brushed her fingers over smooth satin. “I use these colors a lot in my bridal gown designs.”

“I figured you’d like them. Those gowns don’t have to fit the traditional mold. They can be anything you envision. They can be uniquely you.”

Maya let those words settle in. She needed to hear them just as much as she needed to say them. Anything you envision, Maya. Not anything Laura Whitcomb envisioned.

“You got these fabrics from Grandma’s storage, Dad?” Jamila asked.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Discomfort flitted through Maya. This was not good.

“There’s a huge problem,” Jamila said. “You can’t just give her Grandma’s things.”

Derek exhaled. “It’s for the store’s benefit, Jamila. I didn’t give anything to Maya. It’s for Always a Bride.”

Jamila didn’t say anything. Instead, she surveyed the space. She was probably mentally criticizing the redesign.

“So you did all this with the store?” Jamila asked.

“A little here and there,” Maya said. “Thought it would help with rebranding.”

“What’s rebranding?” Jamila asked.

“A company’s strong visual image coupled with that company’s story. Something that makes it identifiable in the marketplace. That sort of thing.”

Jamila looked up, as if considering this. “Oh, I get it. Like logos and TV commercial jingles and stuff.”

“Exactly,” Maya said.

Jamila walked around and seemed to note the changes Maya had made. For some reason, this young girl’s evaluation made Maya nervous. Maybe because she sensed that Jamila was also evaluating her.

“Grandma would never have this castle and carriage display in the center of the store,” Jamila said. “She was all about showing off the dresses. She’d probably say, ‘I ain’t putting it in the center unless I’m selling it.’”

Oof. Maya had messed up. She was already on Jamila’s bad side, but if Maya also didn’t follow Vivian’s vision, then Maya could just forget about connecting with Jamila on any level. Best to just suck it up, take the loss, and see if that could help her get on Jamila’s good side. “That’s a great suggestion, Jamila. The decoration shouldn’t get in the way of the design. I’ll move the carriage.” Maya headed over to the display and gently pushed it to the side near the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “How’s that?”

Jamila squinted her eyes. “Maybe a little off to the side. Don’t want to distract from the mirror when folks are trying on dresses.”

“Excellent point.” Maya shifted it a few inches.

A quiet fell between them. Maya tried to reach for more from Jamila, a sense of truce, a sense of connection, a sense of something good. Maybe Maya was overthinking this.

After they finished setting up, Jamila drifted over to one of Maya’s dresses that was on display. “Is this gown yours?”

Maya paused, not knowing if she’d get criticism or kindness from Jamila. “Yes,” she said cautiously.

Jamila squinted at the hem. “Is that a topstitch?”

“Yes.”

“My grandmother used to do this stitch a lot.” Jamila ran her fingers over the thread. “All by hand.”

Okay, should Maya probe and try to connect with Jamila now? Or would doing so bring on more grief for Jamila? Maya didn’t know, and she didn’t want to mess this up. Maybe she’d play neutral. Yes. Neutral was good. Neutral was safe. “Good on you for recognizing the stitch.”

“I can’t stitch by hand,” Jamila said. “Too hard.”

She was slowly opening up to Maya. This was a positive sign. Maya would extend a peace offering. “It takes a while to learn, but you’ll get the hang of it. In the meantime, you can use a sewing machine. I have an extra sewing machine. Do you have one?”

Jamila’s shoulders sagged. “Nope.”

“You can borrow mine if you’d like. If that’s okay with your father.” Maya glanced in Derek’s direction.

“Sounds good to me,” Derek said.

Jamila looked between them, her eyes filled with hesitation. “I’ll borrow your sewing machine. Thank you for offering.”

A pleasantness filled Maya. This was good. Real good.