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Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in the United States of America.
Dedication
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Chapter 1
V i V ien
Many around Levy City believed Vivien Sheffield needed to retire. Maybe her hair was turning grayer by the day while her middle grew more grandmotherly. But she didn’t have the time to worry over other folks’ opinions when she had a salon teeming with brides and their mothers.
It was February, the month of love. All the girls wanted white weddings, and 1956 was promising to be her best year yet.
A bevy of bridesmaids clad in Mamie Eisenhower pink chiffon gowns twirled around the fitting area in the back of the salon, gushing to one another about how darling they all looked. Their ear-piercing squeals burrowed into Vivien’s ears.
Her longtime assistant, Mirette, chased after one girl refusing to stand still long enough to pin the gown’s hem. The look on her dear friend’s face broadcast it was time to corral all this feminine chaos back into a stable of sanity.
“Ladies.” Vivien tugged the nearest bridesmaid’s arm and stopped her in her tracks. “Line up here so Mirette and I can get a good look at you. No more running around like a bunch of wild rabbits.”
While the girls scrambled into place, whispers from acetate linings in the gowns replaced the squeals. Mirette pushed back a silver curl dangling over her glasses, then moved to a chair. She held her measuring tape in one hand and her tomato-shaped pincushion in the other, then nodded to Vivien.
Vivien motioned to the first girl in line. “Go get pinned.” She looked at the other girls. “Y’all stay put until Mirette’s checked your measurements.”
“Yes, Miss Vivien,” they chorused.
“And when I’m measuring, don’t start wiggling. Y’all hear me?”
Mirette unwound her measuring tape.
Vivien hoped the girls heeded Mirette’s words. If one moved around too much, her assistant wasn’t above giving a little poke with the needle to make her point clear.
The bride’s mother, Merilee Bell, came bustling from the dressing room where her daughter was trying on her gown. “Vivien, Mary Hadley’s not happy.”
Merilee clicked her tongue against her teeth as if this whole affair annoyed the stew out of her. “This is the fourth fitting. Why can’t you get this wedding gown fixed to suit her?”
Her square black patent leather purse flapped against her hip as she crossed her arms and stared over the rims of her cat-eye glasses. “I was talking with Lenora Baker the other day, and she said Cathy had no trouble when you made her dress last year.”
Cathy was a dream bride. She loved her gown and took what it stood for to heart.
Mary Hadley came into the salon with one wedding goal in mind. To outdo every other bride in the county. She’d demanded a custom-made gown with yards and yards of lace, pearl accents, embroidered flowers with sequins in the middle, and quite possibly the widest satin skirt the South had seen since the War Between the States.
“I’ll talk to her. But”—Vivien stared Merilee straight in the eyes— “no more big changes. Mirette and I have reconstructed her gown three times. We have other brides to work with.”
Merilee drew in a loud breath through her nose and started swelling like a toad. “If—”
Vivien held up a finger and stopped her from going on. She pointed to one of the nearby white bucket-style chairs set aside for the mamas during fittings. “Have a seat, and I’ll get her sorted out.”
She entered the dressing room and found Mary Hadley standing in front of the mirror, picking at a lace ruffle. Her jet-black pin curls framed her face, setting off her cat-green eyes.
“Mama says you’re not happy.”
“Miss Vivien, I feel like I’m wearing cheap lace curtains.” She flicked the ruffle from her fingers and wrinkled her nose as if she’d been asked to eat live worms.
“You asked for six rows of Chantilly lace on the skirt. That’s what Mirette and I gave you.”
Her reflection in the mirror eyed Vivien as she fingered one of the flowers sewn onto the neckline. “These flowers are tacky.”
Vivien paused. Mary Hadley had demanded the flowers be added at her last fitting because the gown didn’t match her springtime wedding date.
Kind words trampled down wrath. And truth set folks free. “Mirette and I spent two weekends making those flowers and came in an hour early for days to get them sewn on the dress in time for this fitting.”
No matter how snippy a bride might get, they loved her as if she were their own and worked hard to make her wedding dreams come true. She and Mirette attended more bridal and baby showers than any two women in Levy City.
Mary Hadley seemed destined to become the first they would shower with rice at the reception and wave a permanent goodbye to when she left for the honeymoon.
“We’ll remove those flowers. The lace, and everything else, stays.” Vivien left the dressing room.
The line of bridesmaids stared as she walked past them. Merilee stood and blocked Vivien from taking another step. “Is she happy now?”
“Perfectly.” She moved around Merilee and walked into the sales floor of the salon where the next thing on her to-do list waited.
Robbi Dever, the author of the column The Juice in The Levy Times Commercial, was there to observe Vivien and Mirette for an upcoming column. She’d insisted on showcasing Miss Vivien’s salon in the paper to increase interest in Wynton’s upcoming Bridal Week celebrations in April.
Vivien couldn’t see starting this early as helpful, and suggested they wait until March. Robbi went to Mr. Wynton, owner of the store, and he asked Vivien to comply.
She rose from the soft cushions. “You sure didn’t pick this dainty couch for a big-boned gal like me, did you?” Robbi’s cackling laugh rang through the salon as she unfolded her almost six-foot frame to her full height.
Robbi gazed around the salon. “I hardly recognized the place when I came in. You and Mirette have transformed this salon.”
“We decided to spruce things up before Bridal Week.” Vivien looked across the space. “We added the gilded-framed floor-length mirrors, called in the store’s carpenter to build these small, polished teakwood platforms in front of them, and arranged the different sitting areas so brides can model potential gowns for their mamas and friends.”
Vivien pointed to the wall opposite where they stood. “He also built
those display racks with the open doors so they’d each look like an open armoire. We hang the gown samples in there now.”
Robbi raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Crystal chandeliers too?”
“Mr. Wynton donated those, plus the new rugs.”
Robbi dug deep into her large alligator purse and pulled out a pen and notebook. She flipped the notebook open and scribbled something on the page. “What do you call this shade of blue on the couches and the rugs? I’ll specify it in my article. My readers will want to run right out and find upholstery in the same color.”
She leaned close and Vivien caught a faint whiff of Estée Lauder’s Youth Dew. “You are one of Levy City’s biggest trendsetters, you know.”
“I ordered the couches through the store,” Vivien explained. “The background color was called Cloudless, and the pattern on the upholstery is Lavender Cornflowers. The rugs are a darker, contrasting color called Ocean.”
“Right. Those little beige stars in the carpet make even my big size 11s look lavish when I’m walking across.” Robbi pressed her low-heeled loafer on the rugs as if to prove her point. “I’ll stay out of the way and observe you doing what you do. Give my readers a little window into your day.”
“That might be a bit boring.”
“Nonsense,” Robbi insisted, plopping down on the couch. “My readers will have a bird’s-eye view of how Miss Vivien operates. They’ll eat this up.”
“Robbi, the entire female population of Levy City has seen me work. I’ve been a part of almost every wedding here for over twenty-five years.”
“Oh pooh. You’re too modest. I want them to see all the little things you do behind the scenes that make you”—she held her hands wide as if she were about to shout Hallelujah—“Miss Vivien.”
The salon’s front-door chimes sounded. “Vivien Sheffield, where are you?”
“Excuse me, Robbi.” Vivien met Ruth Gaskin, the mother of another one of her upcoming brides as she entered the center of the salon. “I’m right here, Ruth.”
Ruth’s face darkened to a deep crimson. “How dare you stab me in the back.”
A gasp sounded behind Vivien. Mary Hadley’s bridesmaids had bunched together in the doorway of the fitting room to watch the
spectacle. She gestured for them to return to the fitting area. “Go make sure Mirette’s finished with you, then change into your regular clothes.”
When they lingered, she shooed them away. “Go on now.”
They turned slowly as a group, murmuring among themselves. She turned back to Ruth. “What’s going on?”
If eyes could shoot fire, Ruth’s would have burnt Vivien to a crisp. “You told my Stacia to marry that horrid Fred Patterson. Vivien, you know that boy comes from nothing and has no prospects other than working for his father in their tiny orange groves outside of town.”
“I never said such—”
“What are we going to do with her gown, Vivien? The presents everyone sent?”
Ruth opened her purse and fumbled around inside until she produced a hankie. “We put a sixty-dollar deposit on the community center for the reception. And you know they won’t refund it. I canceled Cameron’s Catering because they kept adding new charges on everything I asked for. My sisters and I decided to make the food ourselves. Our freezers are packed, and now it’s all going to go to waste.” She buried her face in her hankie.
From the corner of her eye, Vivien noticed Robbi scrawling away in her notebook. She couldn’t help that now.
“Ruth, you’re not making a bit of sense.”
She raised her face from her handkerchief. “My daughter called me at the break of dawn from somewhere in the middle of Georgia, telling me she eloped with a grove boy you told her to marry.”
Mary Hadley, now dressed in her street clothes, marched from the fitting area. Her bridesmaids trailed behind her. They gathered in a long line across the salon floor, looking as if they were ready to play Red Rover.
Mirette stepped through the crowd and came to Vivien’s side. “Do you have aspirin in your desk drawer?” she whispered.
“Not nearly enough.”
The entrance chimes trilled, and Lenora Baker came into the salon. Her normally well-coiffed hair frizzed around her face, and her cheeks were drained of color.
Vivien rushed to her side. “Are you all right, Lenora?”
“Cathy. . .the police. . .she’s dead.”
As shocked gasps erupted from the bridesmaids, Robbi Dever sprang to her feet. “I’m sorry Miss Vivien, but the news never stops, and I have
to chase this story.”
She ran to the door and then scurried out to the elevator.
Vivien hugged the sobbing Lenora. “I’m so sorry.”
The words tasted hollow and sour, but what more could she say at a time like this?
Nothing but a silent prayer for a mama’s shattered heart and the loss of a dear, sweet girl.
Chapter 2
A udrey
Audrey Penault pulled her red T-Bird into her designated parking spot in Wynton’s garage. The store’s parking guard, Nelson, waved to her as she gathered her satchel and purse.
She held out a bag of cinnamon twists from Tiner’s Bakery and a thermos of coffee. As Nelson took them from her, a half grin crinkled his brown face. “You’re running late.”
Audrey pulled on brown gloves that matched her brown wool suit, then settled her brown felt Juliet cap over her dark hair. “There was some kind of commotion over in Pine Acres. Sheriff Youngblood and his boys were directing traffic out of the neighborhood down to Platt Street. Took me forever to get here.”
She buttoned her brown suit jacket around her waist, then smoothed the black velvet-trimmed lapels of the jacket. “I’d better get going. I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Wynton in ten minutes. Get some sleep when you get home, Nelson.” Audrey hurried away as Nelson sat down in his resting chair to enjoy his breakfast.
When she reached Wynton’s executive suite on the seventh floor, her boss’s door stood open, his sign he was waiting for her. “Come on in, Audrey,” he called.
She set her purse and satchel in her chair, then grabbed her steno pad and a pencil.
When she entered his office, she took the chair in front of his desk. It was then she realized she’d forgotten to remove her hat. Mr. Wynton was going to think she was a complete mess today. “I’m sorry for being late.”
“I heard there’s something going on in Pine Acres.” Mr. Wynton slipped his black horn-rimmed glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes. “Did you look over the financials I sent home with you?”
“Yes sir.”
“Thoughts?”
Audrey recalled the figures she’d studied the night before. “Christmas sales looked strong. Toys, Children’s Apparel, and Ladies Sportswear recorded great numbers. Men’s Apparel was down. Furniture and Housewares had a slight uptick. Several men in Levy City bought the Mixette, Hamilton Beach’s handheld mixer, for their wives this year.”
He nodded. “Thanks to you and Miss Vivien, the showstopper gown from the holiday fashion show was a big hit, but overall, the sales in Better Dresses took a big drop. Guesses as to why?”
Audrey paused. “Honest opinion?”
He nodded.
“The dresses our clothing buyers chose last year exceeded the average Levy City budget. Our ladies made their own dresses at home.”
Mr. Wynton leaned back in his chair. “How so?”
He’d never drilled her like this before, but she wasn’t going to let him have even an inkling this made her pulse jumpy.
“As I went over the numbers last night, I noticed a large rise in sales of fabric and patterns in our sewing department between October and January first. I dug into the invoices and saw a larger than normal percentage of the sales were for the more formal fabrics—taffeta, silk, and velvet. We sold more faux rhinestone trim, pearl buttons, and yards of velvet and satin ribbons than previous years. The bestselling patterns were McCall’s for Misses evening or day dresses. All materials for making an evening gown or cocktail dress.”
His wide smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Nothing at Wynton’s gets past you, does it?”
“Just doing my job, sir.”
“Come with me.” He pushed back his chair and rose.
Audrey closed her steno pad and slid her pencil into the binder on the top.
As she followed Mr. Wynton from the office, he motioned to her desk. “Leave your pad. I want to show you something, and I won’t need notes.”
He walked across the outer office and held the door open for her. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Audrey glanced at the pile of paperwork on her desk. There were memos to type, the latest financial reports needed to be filed, and she needed to make carbon copies of the agenda for the afternoon board meeting.
Mr. Wynton beckoned for her to join him. “That will still be there when we get back.” Which was precisely the problem, but she’d not go against his wishes.
He led her to the end of the corridor and down a second hallway until he stopped in front of an office at the very back of the seventh floor.
Audrey had only been this deep into Wynton’s top floor a handful of times. She’d stored supplies for Wynton’s annual Back-to-School Fashion Show and a Valentine’s charity dance the local Rotary Club hosted in a nearby spare room.
He pushed against the door with his full weight until it opened wide enough for him to squeeze through. Once inside he stuck his head out. “Give me a minute to move some things. I don’t want you falling off your heels in here.”
The last thing his heart needed was him lifting and sliding boxes around. Audrey ignored his directions and eased around him into the room.
She met his irritated glance. “You know your heart’s not ready for this. If I have to, I’ll walk in my stocking feet and leave my shoes in the hall.”
A deep sigh escaped him. “My heart’s never felt better. It does a man good to stretch his muscles every once in a while.”
“Not when I’m the one who’s accountable to his doctor. He fussed at me for twenty straight minutes over the phone when you snuck off by yourself to go fishing last weekend.”
He grunted in disgust. “He’s just mad I didn’t invite him.”
Audrey hid a grin and focused on the chaos in the room. Stacks of unopened boxes stood in columns against the left wall, while dresses, coats, and men’s trousers hung on racks pushed against the right wall. Opened wooden crates filled the center of the room, with clothes spilling over their edges, and others lying on the floor in heaps.
“It looks like a hurricane blew through here.”
Mr. Wynton moved to the desk wedged into the corner of the room. He sat on the top and dangled his long legs over the edge. “Do you see anything worth salvaging for the store?”
Audrey surveyed the space and added up a quick estimation of how many thousands of dollars lay scattered about. Far too much to consider a write-off.
She shuffled her way to the nearest open crate and lifted out a filmy
white blouse with a Peter Pan collar. “I saw something very similar to this in the Sears catalog last year. It’s still a popular style. We could put this out in a summer fun sales promotion in May when the weather warms up.” Audrey set the blouse aside and dug farther into the crate.
“There are several cotton sunsuits and sundresses in here as well. We could do a complete cross-promotion, with sunglasses, sandals, straw bags, and sun hats—even kids’ swimsuits. We could use the slogan ‘School’s out, the sun and fun are calling.’ ”
She continued. “Set the display right up front near Ladies Sportswear, and bring in some of the sand buckets and shovels from Toys to get the kids excited.”
“You pulled all that out of your hat just now?” Mr. Wynton pointed at her head.
Audrey smiled as more ideas swirled. She glanced around. “I could take a few items home and design several different campaigns.” Audrey pointed to a crate sitting along the far wall. “Some things in there would go in a bride’s trousseau. We could put those out during Bridal Week.”
She shifted her attention to a clump of clothes hanging on the rack. “We have men’s sportswear there, and I could come up with something for Valentine’s Day and Father’s Day. ‘Go beyond just a tie for Dad this year.’ ”
She looked through the mass of merchandise before her. “I could go through those unopened boxes along the wall after work tonight, take inventory, and get it out on the floor as soon as possible, even if it’s just clearance.” She would find a way to sell all of this, whether in the main store or Wynton’s bargain store on Latham Street.
The sound of a drawer opening called her back from her retail thoughts. She spun round to see Mr. Wynton pulling out a white box wrapped with a bright purple ribbon. He held it out to her.
“This is for you.”
Audrey put the clothes back in the crate and took the box. The narrow package was heavier than she expected, and she took her time untying the bow. When she lifted the top and peered inside, she scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Mr. Wynton slid off the desk and lifted the wooden nameplate from within the folds of silver tissue paper. He ran his finger across the writing printed on the gold plate in front:
AUDREY PENAULT Senior Buyer Ladies Fashions
“In less than five minutes, you’ve sorted this mess into at least three sales campaigns with guaranteed success. No one in this store understands retail better than you.”
He cleared his throat. “Audrey, you’ve been my right arm through the worst period of my life.” His voice trailed off.
His jaw clenched, and Audrey knew he was reliving the memories of his only child John T.’s betrayal and death, and his daughter-in-law Cissy’s responsibility for the murder of his son plus some of his employees when she attempted to steal the store from him last year.
His Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed back his emotions. “You’re meant for bigger things than sitting behind a desk, answering my phone, and scribbling down my ramblings,” Mr. Wynton said as he looked unwaveringly at Audrey. “That business degree hanging on the wall in your house demands it.”
She went to protest, but he held up his hands. “It’s done.”
He tilted his head toward the door. “I’ve arranged for your name to be printed on the window later today. Go back to the executive suite, clean out your desk, and move in here. There’s an empty box in the coat closet for that specific purpose.”
A swirling fog clouded her brain until one thought pushed them away. “If I leave you today, you’ll be without help.”
He smiled. “Personnel is sending me a temp before noon.”
There was no way on the good, green earth a new girl could catch on to all that needed to be done to keep Mr. Wynton’s office running smoothly. Not just anyone could fill the position of Mr. Wynton’s executive secretary.
She squared her shoulders and faced her boss. “I’ll take this job on one condition.”
He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Which is?”
“I train my replacement. I’m not leaving the executive office until I’m satisfied you’re in capable hands. The store depends on that.” She sealed her statement with a sharp nod. “Those are my terms.”
Mr. Wynton rubbed his chin and stared at her a moment. “I need you in your role as a buyer today.”
“Then I’ll do both, until the new girl has the hang of the office.”
“Audrey, Fashion Week is coming up in New York in three weeks. After that, I’m sending you to Chicago, then down to Tampa to look at what Maas Brothers is doing, and on to Burdines in Miami. You’ll be
going to Harrods in London, and Fashion Week in Paris later in the year. No one can do both jobs at once.”
She’d never argued with or contradicted him. But this time she dug her heels in the rug and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”
The room went quiet as they squared off against one another in a silent standoff.
“Not even you could find enough hours in the day to do both.”
She flashed her twenty-four-karat smile. “Are you certain about that?”
Mr. Wynton sighed and thrust his hand toward her. “Deal.”
Audrey took his hand in hers and gave him a firm shake.
A sideways grin spread across his face. “I need to have a talk with the person who taught you how to negotiate.”
“I learned from the best.”
“No ma’am. You came by that stubborn streak of yours naturally. Your daddy would have loved seeing his little girl put me to shame.”
Her cheeks burned at his compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Wynton.”
Daddy would have been proud of her. Far more than her mother. She’d seen Audrey’s pursuit of a business degree and love of the retail world as a waste of time. At their last meeting, while Audrey was still in business school, her mother quipped she was wasting all her best assets on books.
A knock on the door interrupted her musing. One of the store’s security officers peeked his head into the room.
“Mr. Wynton, there’s a situation in Miss Vivien’s salon.”
Audrey’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s happened?”
“Lenora Baker is there, and she’s had a breakdown of some sort. Her daughter Cathy was killed this morning.”
Audrey looked to Mr. Wynton. He nodded and gestured toward the door. “Go. I’ll lock up and meet you there.”
She scooted around the officer and ran the entire way to the elevator. One thought marched through her brain over and over as she pressed the button for the fifth floor and waited.
Not again. Please God, not more murders.
Chapter 3
G i G i
Gigi Woodard played peekaboo with a sweet little girl who’d pressed her face against the candy case while her mama looked at nylon stockings in Ladies Accessories. She’d be tasked with wiping the tot’s fingerprints from the display, but at least it gave her something to do.
Business had slowed down since the Christmas rush ended. Some days she yawned more times than she rang up a customer, but it still beat slinging hash and wearing those awful hairnets in Wynton’s cafeteria. Being a clerk in Florida Delights and selling saltwater taffy, orange-flavored gumdrops, and other Florida-inspired treats was the best job she’d ever had.
She gave the glass a final quick swipe and returned the cleaner and cloth to the shelf behind the counter. Her boss, Mr. Spell, surveyed her work, then nodded his approval.
“I’m afraid that little girl may be our only hopes of a customer today.”
Gigi gazed across the open space of Wynton’s first floor. “There are a lot of shoppers today. Maybe some little kid will talk their mama into buying them some candy.”
“Mamas don’t buy candy this close to Valentine’s Day.” He released a long sigh. “It’s the same every year. By the end of February, I’m back to running this department myself.”
By himself? “What does that mean?”
Mr. Spell shrugged. “I always get extra help sent to me in November to get through the holiday fruit-shipping season, only to lose them by Valentine’s Day when business drops.”
She gripped the edge of the counter. “Do they get moved somewhere else in the store?”
“I’ve never seen any of them again.”
Gigi resisted pounding the countertop with her fist. This couldn’t be. Mr. Wynton told her last year he looked forward to seeing her rise, that she was going to be a valuable asset to the store. Why would he put her in a dead-end job after making such a promise?
She had to find Audrey and ask her if she was being fired. If anybody would know, it was Audrey.
Gigi checked her watch. “Mr. Spell, may I take an early break?”
He brought the Out to Lunch sign from under the counter and set it down by the register. “Let’s both go.”
Gigi hurried to retrieve her lunch bag from the employee locker room, then rushed up the back stairs to the seventh floor. The executive suite was empty when she entered.
Strange. Audrey rarely left her desk, often eating her salad lunch while she worked.
As she searched for a piece of paper, her heart nearly left her when a male voice called to her. She looked up to see Mr. Wynton in the doorway and stood ramrod straight, her cheeks burning as if she’d been caught stealing.
“I was trying to find a piece of paper to leave Audrey a note.”
Her fear bubbled like a fizzy Coke as he stared at her. “Mr. Spell said I could take an early lunch.”
A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Come with me.”
Gigi walked to the door. Was this the big firing Mr. Spell had warned her of? Mr. Wynton might believe she wasn’t worth keeping in the store if she could take time from her department to pass notes with Audrey.
She wasn’t one for being patient, even if the news was bad. “Am I in trouble?”
Confusion sparked in his eyes as he motioned for her to pass into the hall. “Audrey’s in Vivien’s salon. There’s been a. . .situation.” He closed the office door behind him.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, Gigi, but we’ll find out together when we get there.”
He took her elbow and walked her to the elevator. Mr. Wynton pressed the button for the fifth floor. When the car arrived, he waited as the operator pushed the latticed gate back, then bowed to her. “After you.”
She ducked her head and scooted in. Gigi loved his formal, gentlemanly ways, but for some reason they always made her feel special and unworthy at the same time. Her mind reeled with what could possibly
be so wrong in Miss Vivien’s salon. If both Mr. Wynton and Audrey were needed, it must be a doozy of a problem.
The elevator jolted to a stop on the fifth floor. They stepped out to see a flock of young women standing together in a circle, all talking over one another. A dark-haired girl standing in the middle of them raised her voice and shushed the group.
“Keep by the phone today, girls. I’ve got to talk to Mama about all this, and I’ll call y’all tonight to let you know what time to come over and hear what we’ve decided.”
The girl in the middle narrowed her eyes and glared at Gigi and Mr. Wynton as they walked past. She gathered her friends closer and said something to them in whispered tones that caused the entire group to turn and stare.
Since she was with Mr. Wynton, Gigi bit back the hot words pushing to erupt from within. She’d seen that same you’re-not-one-of-us look many times when she served certain employees in the cafeteria, and it always got her dander up.
When they reached the salon’s entrance, a much older woman, puffed up like an angry rooster, barreled out the door and bumped into Gigi. She humphed as if the encounter had been all Gigi’s fault, then rushed to the group of girls.
Gigi glanced over her shoulder at the group. “Poor Miss Vivien. That doesn’t look good at all.”
Mr. Wynton guided her into the salon with his hand at the small of her back. “No, it doesn’t.”
Miss Vivien sat on one of the newly added couches with her arm draped around a woman who was sobbing into her hands. She’d once told Gigi that part of her job included comforting mamas who were sad about their little babies getting married.
This mama was downright distraught. Miss Vivien seemed to be crying too.
Mr. Wynton walked to another area where Audrey and Mirette were talking. Gigi followed because she had no idea what else to do.
“Any news?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Mirette laid her hand against her cheek and shook her head. “All insanity broke loose. Merilee Bell and Mary Hadley were fussing about her dress, then Ruth Gaskin came in and blessed Vivien out because her daughter eloped last night and it was somehow Vivien’s fault.”
Mirette dabbed at a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. “Then Lenora Baker came in and told us Cathy was found murdered this morning. And of course, Robbi Dever was here for the entire spectacle.”
Gigi whistled. “All that happened this morning?”
“Honey, all that happened before ten thirty.”
Gigi stole a glance at the scene on the couch. “How’s Miss Vivien?”
“She’s been by Lenora’s side since she came in. It’s been a ‘single box of tissues’ crisis so far, but I’m still a bit concerned.”
“I expect we’ll be hearing from Merilee later,” Audrey added.
Mr. Wynton nodded. “She almost bulldozed Gigi when we came in.”
Gigi stretched to her full height. “Acted like it was all my fault.”
Mirette smirked. “Join the club.”
Mr. Wynton pulled the conversation back to the problem at hand. “Have you heard anything about what happened, Mirette?”
“Lenora said Cathy was bludgeoned to death with a silver candlestick. Her husband Joe is out of town on a business trip. Sheriff Youngblood said they’re trying to get in touch with him. Miss Lottie Warner saw their front door standing open early this morning when she was out walking her dog. She went up to see if anything was amiss and found Cathy.”
Gigi gasped. “Poor Miss Lottie. She’s such a gentle soul. This kind of thing will just crush her.”
Then a new thought hit her. “Mary Jo lives a few blocks from Miss Lottie. She’s probably heard by now. Her little girls are going to be scared all over again, after what happened to them last year.”
Mr. Wynton’s face darkened a bit. “This city isn’t ready for another round of something like this.”
He stuck his hand in his coat pocket. “It appears you ladies have this under control.” He turned to Audrey. “Let me know if I’m needed.”
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Wynton bowed to them all. “Ladies.”
Gigi was the first to speak after he’d gone. “What can we do to help?”
Mirette shook her head. “Nothing. We’ve got a bride coming in at one to look at gowns. Until then”—she peered around Gigi to where Miss Vivien and Lenora sat—“looks like Vivien has her calmed down.”
Gigi swiveled around to see them rising from the couch. Miss Vivien said something to the mother and walked over to join them.
“I’m going to drive Lenora over to her sister’s. Her brother-in-law is off today, and I’ll bring him back here to pick up her car.” She took a
quick look at her watch. “I’ll be back for the one o’clock.”
She patted Gigi and smiled at Audrey. “Thanks for coming up to check on me.”
She went into the fitting rooms, returned with her coat and purse, and walked to the couch. “I’m ready, Lenora. If we don’t get you over there quick, Glenna’s going to come searching for us.”
Lenora swayed as she stood, but Vivien slipped her arm though Lenora’s and led her from the salon to the elevator.
“That was kind of you to come, Gigi. How did you hear about what happened?” Audrey asked once the other women were gone.
“Mr. Wynton found me in your office. I was trying to leave you a note. He told me something was wrong here in the salon and I needed to come with him.”
“I love y’all, but I’ve had enough excitement and people for one morning. I’ve got to sit down and get me some quiet after all this madness.” Mirette headed for the back of the salon, her message for Gigi and Audrey to leave made clear.
Audrey tilted her head toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”
Once they were outside the salon, Audrey pointed toward the door to the stairs. Since she was still on a break, and could use the exercise, Gigi agreed and walked ahead to hold the door open for Audrey.
“Why were you leaving me a note?” Audrey’s voice bounced off the walls in the stairwell.
Gigi’s cheeks grew warm. “I thought I was being fired.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Mr. Spell said every year his clerks get fired by the end of February. You know I just moved into a new apartment because my other landlord died. I can’t afford to live in the new place without this job.”
“Mr. Spell is partly correct. Florida Delights doesn’t need you anymore. But before you let your heart sink to your feet, listen to me. You’re not being fired.”
“Then where am I going?”
“You’re being moved to a permanent position.”
“Back to the cafeteria, right?” Gigi touched the edge of her scalp as she remembered the strangling grip of the hairnets smashing her blond pin curls to her head. Then the scents of meat loaf, steaming vegetables, and cleaning solution came back, making her stomach lurch.
In spite of Audrey’s scolding, her heart and her hopes dove straight
to her feet. She’d never be more than a waitress and was an idiot to hope for something better.
Gigi swallowed back an apple-sized lump of disappointment. No more wearing her new suits and cute hats to work. The navy-blue one with the straight skirt that she’d worn today was her favorite. She’d put two new blouses to match it on layaway a week ago.
What a waste. She’d be in the waitress uniforms again.
At least her suits wouldn’t go to complete waste. Since Kenny had slipped into another mood and refused to leave the house, she’d been attending church with Mary Jo and the girls. Her suits fit right in at Levy City Baptist. At least wearing them once a week beat opening her closet every day and seeing them hanging there unused.
Audrey called her name, and Gigi snapped back to the conversation.
“You’re not going back to the cafeteria. We’ve got something else in mind for you.”
“Gift wrapping down in the basement, right?”
Audrey’s lips wiggled as if she were holding back a grin. “We both know you don’t have the patience or inclination to be a gift wrapper.”
“What’s left then? Furniture? Household Furnishings?” She paused as another thought hit her. “Please tell me it’s not Housewares. I’d be terrible at the cooking demonstrations.” Gigi shivered at the thought of being on display up on the fourth floor. Faking smiles as she tried to show off the latest in pots and pans, while filling the room with black smoke because she was burning everything.
“I may have worked in restaurants all my life, Audrey, but I can’t even cook toast without turning it into a scorched brick.”
Audrey sighed, giving the same look Mama always did when she grew tired of trying to convince her daughter life wasn’t all bad. “You’re not going to the fourth floor.”
She stopped walking at the second-floor landing and faced Gigi. “Edie got engaged at Christmas and won’t be coming back to the store. You’re being moved to Cosmetics to fill that vacancy. You start next Monday.”
Cosmetics was one of the most prestigious positions in all of Wynton’s. Even Gigi knew much of the store’s profits came from that department and Ladies Wear.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll mess it up?”
“No. You will be one of our best salesgirls, and I don’t want to hear anything else from you otherwise.”
Audrey continued down the stairs. Her straight back and lifted chin broadcast she wouldn’t hear anymore of Gigi’s objections.
Gigi stood at the landing. The looks from the girls in the group outside the salon came back to her. Their silent message had been oh so easy to read.
