A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery

He looked at me, raising his brows in a question.

A pipe moaned from deep in the bowels of the house, but he didn’t budge. He knew something was up; he just didn’t know what he was in for. “You need help, Gracie?” I called.

“Uh-uh,” she said, safely ensconced behind the screen.

I didn’t believe it, but I left her to her own devices, grabbed Will’s arm, and dragged him back into the front room.

“What the devil’s going on? Gracie raced out of the house like a bat out of hell and she’ll barely look at me.” His voice was low and controlled, but anger brewed underneath.

I looked over my shoulder into the workroom. The privacy screen jerked as she struggled to get herself out of the Margaret gown.

I looked back at him. “A letter came for you—from her mother and…”

“And what?”

“And she read it,” I said.

Will’s face instantly shifted from pissed off to shaken. “Oh boy.”

I nodded. My thoughts exactly.

He raked his hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. “I knew she’d find out one day, but I…”

“But what, Dad?” As stealthily as a cat, Gracie had crept to the French doors separating the two rooms, and now she looked ready to pounce.

“Baby—”

Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me that my mother has family here in Bliss? That I have grandparents?”

So she’d changed her mind. Now she did want to talk about it, and right this second by the looks of it. Her tears were gone and I could practically see the steam pouring from her ears.

“What did the letter say?” he asked, and I instantly realized that he was working to regain control of the situation by asking his own question rather than answering hers.

Gracie huffed with more attitude than I’d seen out of her since I’d met her. “That she was coming home to see her parents, and not to tell me because… because…” She sniffled, struggling to stay angry instead of hurt. “She said she wouldn’t be here long enough for a real visit with me.”

Will shook his head and paced around the room, skirting the portable rack of clothes on display, dodging the settee and coffee table, and circling around by the front door until he was facing his daughter. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. “Baby, this is why I never told you. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, and she still isn’t. But she loved you enough to give you to me. I never wanted to disappoint you or make you think that she didn’t love you. In her own way, she does.”

Gracie’s face crumpled. She collapsed into Will’s arms, her voice muffled as she sobbed into his shoulder. “If she loved me, she’d want to see me,” she said when she came up for air.

“She loves you enough to let you go, Gracie,” he said, stroking her hair.

She gazed up at him. “What about my grandparents? They don’t want to know me?” Before Will could answer, she went on. “I bet if they found out I’m going to be a Margaret, then they’d want to know me.”

Will gently pushed her back, his hands on her shoulders. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Why?” Gracie pulled away and folded her arms over her chest. Attitude and defiance. It was a banner day for her. “She said it’s her dad’s birthday. She said if she didn’t show up for the party, that she’d be disowned.”

As he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes met mine. He looked in dire need of a lifeline. “Gracie,” I said, rushing forward. “Maybe you misread it.”

But Will shook his head. His dark hair fell over his forehead and his azure eyes turned smoky. “They might not disown her, but they might disinherit her. Your mom lives off her trust fund.”

“Dad, just tell me the truth.”

He thought for a few seconds, scraping his fingers through his hair again; then he slowly nodded.

Gracie’s shoulders dropped and it looked like the weight of the world slipped right off. She walked to the couch and sank down, looking at him expectantly.

I edged toward the kitchen. “I’ll leave you alone—”

She popped right up, like a jack-in-the-box, and raced to me. “No, Harlow, stay,” she said as she grabbed my hand.

I looked at Will. This was their family business, and I was just… just… The truth was, I didn’t know what I was. I didn’t know them well enough to be privy to their dirty laundry.

But he said, “Stay,” gave a little nod, and put his hand on my back to guide me to the couch. Gracie plopped back down, and I sat next to her, one leg hiked up under me, angled toward her.

Will perched on the edge of the square coffee table, facing us, and took Gracie’s hands in his. “I met your mom right after college—”

“In Austin?”

“No, here. I’d never heard of Bliss, but they needed a city architect. I was fresh out of school, and I took the job. I met this woman at the Hoosegow and it was like… like she had this light around her.”

I searched his face, looking for regret and wondering if he thought it was ironic that he’d met the woman who’d borne his child and handed her over, effectively changing the course of Will’s life, in a bar named after a prison. If he felt trapped, he didn’t show it. I saw nothing but love and concern lacing his face.

“We dated for a few months. I liked her, but… I don’t know. There was something off. She’d put her headphones on and crank up the music. She used to say she was trying to cover up the voices—”

He broke off, his eyes downcast, and I knew he was worried about what kind of voices Gracie’s mom had heard and if mental illness ran in her genes.

But Gracie didn’t pick up on that train of thought. “Did you love her?” She wasn’t pulling any punches. She wanted answers. Now.

Will lay his forearms on his thighs and dropped his head for a second before meeting her gaze again. Debating how much truth to give her, I guessed.

Finally, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t. It was almost as if the light she’d had in her when I first met her just faded away. She was itching to get out of Bliss, but I wasn’t. I liked it here.” He glanced at me, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. “Still do.”

I smiled at him, loosening the slack on the lifeline I’d tossed out to him earlier and willing him to keep his strength and resolve as he told Gracie the rest of their story.

Gracie drew in a shaky breath, but kept her face steady. “But she got pregnant.”

“I didn’t know,” he said. “We’d both agreed that we wanted different things. That it wasn’t working. We decided not to date anymore, and she took off. I had no idea who her family was. Hell, I didn’t even know she had family here. She vanished, and I didn’t see her again for a year.”

“After she already had me.”

I took one of her hands and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“Yes,” he said. “She showed up at my door one day—”

“At our house?”

“No, no. I had an apartment back then. A one bedroom off of Orange Drive.” Gracie nodded, and he continued. “She knocked on the door, and when I opened it, she just stood there. She had you wrapped up in a blanket. It had tiny little roses on it, and your fingers poked out the top and pulled it down. You were screaming at the top of your lungs and she looked so tired. She looked like she’d aged ten years. She had gray streaks in her hair.…” His voice faded away for a few seconds while he stared over our shoulders as if he could see her there behind us. “She said she hadn’t slept in days, that she couldn’t get you to stop crying, and that no matter what she tried, you didn’t seem to hear her, and the music wouldn’t cover it up anymore. When she handed you over to me, you stopped crying.” He snapped. “Just like that. It was like someone turned a switch off. You were just done.”

Gracie and I had both inched forward on the couch, riveted by the story. “What happened next?” I asked.

“That was it. She turned and walked away.”

Gracie swiped at the tears that had welled in her eyes, shaking her head as if to get rid of the pain the story must have caused her. “That’s it? She just left me there with you?”