Caroline shook her head, bewildered by this turn in the conversation. "I don't... I mean, I have no plans to get married, Ellen. My work doesn't really allow for - "
"Even so," her aunt interrupted, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. "Every woman should have one perfect dress waiting for her, whether she plans to use it or not." She smiledthen, that trademark mischievous light re-entering her tired eyes.
Caroline opened her mouth to protest further, then closed it, recognizing the determination in Ellen's posture. Despite her physical frailty, her spirit remained unbowed - this small request her way of maintaining control in the face of inevitable loss.
"It just so … impractical, though," Caroline tried one last deflection. "Especially given my lifestyle. Where would I even keep it?"
Ellen laughed softly. "Practicality is overrated. Some treasures are worth keeping simply because they speak to us, not because they serve an immediate purpose." She reached out, covering Caroline's hand with her own. "Please. Humor a dying old woman's whim."
The touch of Ellen's hand - papery and cool against her own - silenced Caroline's objections. She looked into her aunt's eyes and saw not defeat but a quiet certainty, a peace that came from accepting what couldn't be changed while still affirming what mattered.
"All right," Caroline conceded. "Though I reserve the right to choose something sensible at least?"
Ellen's smile widened. "Sensible is the last thing a great dress should be. But we'll see what calls to you." She gestured toward the racks of gowns that lined the walls. "Take your time. The right one always reveals itself when you're ready to see it."
Caroline nodded, understanding that this ritual - this small act - mattered to Ellen in ways that transcended all other concerns. A connection to a legacy that would soon exist only in memory.
"I'll look later," she promised vaguely. "Today we should focus on you getting some more rest.”
Ellen shook her head, the movement slight but definitive. "Today we acknowledge what's ending. Tomorrow we canmanage the how of it." She settled back against the cushions, looking more tired than she had moments before. "But you’re right, I do need to rest again now. Doctor's orders."
The admission of fatigue - so unlike her usual stoicism - concerned Caroline more than anything else had.
"Of course. Let me help you back upstairs."
Ellen waved away the offer with a frail hand. "In a moment. Let me just sit here a little while longer." Her gaze moved across the shop, taking in each detail with loving attention. "It's a different kind of beautiful in this light, isn’t it?”
Caroline followed her gaze, seeing the shop through Ellen's eyes - not as a failing business but as a sacred space where dreams had been kept safe, where possibilities had been preserved until their proper time arrived. The dresses caught the afternoon light, their various whites and ivories transformed into a spectrum of promise.
"It is,” she agreed softly.
Ellen smiled, her eyes already beginning to close with exhaustion. "Choose a dress, Caroline. Not because you need it now, but because someday, you might." Her aunt’s voice grew fainter, sleep beginning to claim her despite her upright position. "Some doors should remain open, even when we think we've closed them all."
26
The treatment roomwelcomed the bridal party with the gentle glow of salt lamps and the soft melody of waves playing through hidden speakers. Four treatment beds were arranged in a semicircle, separated by sliding shoji screens that provided the illusion of privacy while allowing conversation to flow between them.
Steam rose from hot towels warming on cedar trays, and tiny dishes of sea salt scrubs and clay masks awaited on silver carts beside each bed. The room smelled of lavender and something deeper – the mineral richness of mud harvested from Nantucket's coastal cliffs.
"Please make yourselves comfortable," said the lead aesthetician, a woman with silver-streaked hair twisted into a crown braid. "Face up to start, and we'll begin with a gentle cleansing ritual."
The four settled onto the beds, the paper crinkling beneath their bodies as they arranged themselves. Attendants moved around them, adjusting pillows and offering small supports for knees and ankles.
Jess closed her eyes, trying to surrender to the peaceful ambience, but her mind continued to churn with images from earlier – Logan's face in the sunlight at the Harbor House, the way his voice had softened before Nadine's call had interrupted.
"I'm Ava," said the young woman attending to Nadine. "I'll be doing your treatment today. Any areas of concern?"
"Just the usual," Nadine replied. "Stress-related tension around the jawline. Plus general exhaustion,” she added jokingly.
"Wedding planning will do that," Ava laughed, the sound light and easy. "But at least you're not on your last legs yet, like poor Ellen Doyle … did you hear?” she added, her tone gossipy.
Jess's eyes opened at the mention of Ellen's name. Through a gap in the shoji screen, she could see Nadine's face, her expression momentarily frozen before resuming careful neutrality.
"Ellen?" Nadine asked with practiced casualness as the aesthetician began applying cleanser to her skin in gentle circular motions. “What about her?
Ava’s hands continued moving deftly across Nadine's face. "My cousin works at the hospital and says she's fading fast, they kept her in after this weeks’ treatment. Such a shame – her shop is an island institution. Will this be the end of Sea Glass Bridal, do you think?"
Jess felt her muscles tightening beneath the warm towel her own aesthetician had draped across her shoulders.
