Caroline stared at her aunt, bewilderment temporarily displacing her panic. "Ellen, this isn't about the dress havingfeelings. This is about me damaging a bride's gown because I was trying to - " She stopped, suddenly hearing how it would sound: because I was trying to fix your disorganized, inefficient system.
"I know what you were trying to do," Ellen said, her voice gentle but tired. "Bringing order to chaos. You create systems where there seem to be none." She smiled faintly. "It's not so different from what I do with brides, really. Finding patterns in what looks like disorder."
The clouds shifted, sending a fading shaft of light through the small window. It caught in Ellen's hair, illuminating the silver strands until they gleamed like fine wire. It also revealed what the room's dimness concealed - the pronounced hollows beneathher cheekbones, the waxy pallor of her skin, the slight tremor in her hands as they rested in her lap.
"We could call someone else," Caroline said, her mind already cycling through options. "Another specialist - maybe someone on the mainland who can repair vintage lace and reattach the beads in time? I'll pay whatever it costs. Or we could maybe find a replacement - something similar enough that the bride might not mind the switch?"
Ellen shook her head, the movement slight but definitive. "Some things can't be mended, Caroline. With money. Or clever solutions." She gestured toward the dress. "That gown was meant for Jessica Whitmore’s wedding day. If it can't be repaired in time, perhaps it's telling us something important."
“Loose beads and a torn seam aren’t telling us anything!” Caroline gasped, though something in Ellen's tone made her uneasy. "It's just … a mistake that needs fixing.”
"Is it?" Her aunt’s gaze was distant, looking at something beyond the cramped back room with its shelves of bridal ephemera. "Sometimes damage reveals what was already there, waiting to be seen."
Caroline felt a chill settle in her stomach despite the warming spring air. Ellen wasn't talking about the dress anymore - or at least, not just about the dress.
"You should be resting," she said, moving to her aunt's side. "You look tired." The euphemism felt inadequate for the gray exhaustion that had settled over Ellen's features so quickly, the slight bluish tint to her lips that hadn't been there this morning.
Clearly Jessica Whitmore’s final fitting and resultant alternations had worn her out. Which made Caroline feel even guiltier.
Ellen smiled, a genuine but fragile expression. "I am tired," she admitted. Her hand reached for Caroline's, the skin cool and paper-thin. “But life doesn't pause just because we're weary,dear.” She squeezed her hand with surprising strength. "There's something I need to show you." She began to rise from the chair again, her movements careful and deliberate. "In the bottom drawer of that cabinet."
Caroline watched anxiously as Ellen stood, noting how her aunt swayed slightly, one hand still braced on the chair back. "I can get it for you. Just tell me - "
"No," Ellen interrupted gently. She took a step toward the cabinet, then another, her breathing becoming audibly labored. "It contains all the information you'll need about the shop. The brides with dresses waiting. The special orders. The history of each gown." Another step, her face paling further with the effort.
Caroline hovered nearby, arms half-extended to catch her aunt if necessary. "Please, let me help you."
Ellen shook her head, determined despite her weakness. "Almost there. It's important that you understand - " Her voice faltered as she reached for the cabinet's brass handle. "Understand that Sea Glass isn't just - "
The words died as Ellen's knees suddenly buckled. Her eyes widened in surprise, then rolled back as she collapsed, her body folding with terrible gentleness toward the floor.
Caroline's world narrowed to a tunnel of absolute focus. One moment she was standing frozen in shock; the next she was on her knees beside Ellen's crumpled form, fingers pressed to the pulse point at her aunt's neck. The heartbeat she found was rapid but present, fluttering beneath her fingertips like a trapped bird.
"Ellen?" she called, her voice sounding strange and distant to her own ears. "Ellen, can you hear me?" She patted her aunt's cool cheek, noting with clinical detachment that her aunt’s breathing had become shallow and irregular. "I'm going to get help."
Caroline fumbled for her phone, nearly dropping it in her haste. Her fingers, usually so precise on keyboards and spreadsheets, felt clumsy and useless as she tried to recall who to call. 911? Yes, but also - someone who cared. Who would know what to do. She stared at Ellen's pale face, the silver hair spilled from its neat twist across the worn floorboards.
With shaking fingers, she found the number and pressed call, the electronic ring stretching into eternity as she waited. "Please," she whispered, to the phone or the universe or perhaps to Ellen herself, "please."
38
In the HarborHotel dining room, servers appeared with the main course - herb-crusted rack of lamb with spring vegetables and rosemary potatoes - providing a welcome distraction as plates were placed before guests with choreographed precision.
Jess cut her lamb into precise pieces, the motion automatic while her mind continued its frantic assessment. Julian ate with enthusiasm, commenting on the quality of the food between bites. His casual manner suggested he had no idea of the impact his revelation had made - that in his jet-lagged, champagne-loosened state, he had simply stated what he assumed Jess already knew.
She glanced across to where Megan was engaged in what appeared to be an intensely focused conversation with the guest beside her, though her gestures seemed slightly too animated, her laugh a note too high. The careful arrangement of her features reminded Jess of clients preparing to conceal unfavorable contract terms - composed on the surface but vigilant beneath.
The normalcy of it all felt surreal to Jess as she mechanically continued eating, the exquisite food tasteless in her mouth.How could everyone continue as if nothing had happened? As if Julian hadn't casually revealed that he had dated one of her closest friends before her. As if Megan hadn't kept this secret throughout their entire relationship.
As plates were cleared, Logan appeared briefly at their table, professionally checking that everything had been satisfactory.
"Exceptional," Julian replied, extending his hand. "Beautiful venue too."
Logan shook his hand, his expression revealing nothing beyond polite professionalism. "We aim to preserve what makes Nantucket special while providing all the modern comforts." His gaze shifted briefly to Jess. "Tradition matters here."
Something in his tone - a subtle emphasis, perhaps - made Jess wonder if he was speaking about more than just The Harbor House's renovation philosophy. But before she could analyze it further, Logan had moved on to the next table, his manner friendly and efficient as he ensured every guest's needs were met.
Dessert was announced in the coming minutes - local strawberry shortcake with fresh cream and mint - and in the interim guests began to rise, stretching legs and refreshing drinks. Julian excused himself to speak to a colleague, leaving Jess momentarily alone at the head table.
