The Roses Wilted at Dusk Chapter 02

The bridal salon was on the Westside, its floor-to-ceiling windows facing a row of sycamores.

I arrived half an hour early. Room Three was already prepared.

“Mr. Lockwood came by once before to choose options. He left a few dresses on hold.”

I froze.

“He came here?”

“Four years ago. He said he was looking for his girlfriend. He picked three gowns, but never came back to get them.”

The attendant pushed out a long gown on a rack. Hand-beaded details framed the neckline, and the train swept twelve inches across the floor.

I recognized it.

Four years ago, I had seen it in the window, taken a photo, and sent it to him, saying I wanted to wear something like it someday.

He said he would bring me to try it on when we had saved enough money.

The money had been enough for a long time.

The dress still hung here, waiting for four years.

“Ms. Ellison? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This one isn’t in the options. Put it away.”

At two twenty, Tamsin Calder arrived alone.

High heels sounded at the entrance.

She walked in wearing a dress and smiled at me.

“Ms. Ellison, sorry to trouble you. I know nothing about wedding gowns.”

The fitting lasted an hour and a half.

Tamsin chose a gown and asked whether Dashiell would like it.

I said it was a strong choice.

“Oh, right.” Tamsin took something from her bag. “Dashiell said a brooch could be pinned at the waist of the gown. I think this one works.”

A white rose brooch.

The base was silver, the petals fired enamel, with a faint pearly sheen along the edges.

My fingers went cold.

I had drawn the design myself and hired a silversmith to make it.

There was only one in the world.

I gave it to him last year.

He said he would always wear it.

Now it was in Tamsin Calder’s hand, about to be pinned to her wedding gown.

“Ms. Ellison, can you pin it on while I take one last look?”

I took the brooch.

When my finger touched the pin, the sharp point pierced my fingertip.

A drop of blood welled up. Before it could fall onto the satin, I quickly pressed it into a tissue.

By the time the fitting was over, Tamsin had changed back into her dress, and the gown was sealed in a garment bag.

Dashiell arrived to pick her up, careful to wait outside the fitting room until the gown was put away.

The first thing he saw was the tissue pressed to my finger.

Dashiell instinctively took my hand.

His palm was hot. His thumb pressed over my wound, very gently.

“Does it hurt?”

Before I could answer, Tamsin called from beside the garment rack.

“Dashiell, the garment bag is caught on the zipper. Can you help me?”

His hand released mine.

He turned and walked to Tamsin, helping her free the garment bag.

I stood where I was. The blood on my finger had already dried.

Before they left, Tamsin handed the brooch to me.

“Ms. Ellison, please keep this safe for me until the wedding day.”

Her smile was very gentle.

“After all, you understand Dashiell’s style better than anyone. I feel safest leaving it with you.”

I placed the brooch into the materials bag and zipped it shut.

The wound on my fingertip seeped a little more blood. I wiped it clean with a tissue and let no one see.

I took the old wedding scrapbook from my drawer and turned to the third page.

There was the design sketch for the brooch.

Beside it, I had written:

[A fourth-year gift for him. I hope he wears it while standing across from me.]

I tore out the page, folded it carefully, and placed it in the innermost pocket of my wallet.