Dream Wedding
Susan Mallery
CHAPTER ONE
“I WISH I was going to dream about the man I was going to marry,” Cassie said and grinned. “I know how excited you are about it.”
Chloe Bradley Wright looked at her sister. “Oh, yeah. Too excited for words.” She fingered the soft lace of the nightgown she held. “Do I have to do this?”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
If only that were true, Chloe thought with regret. But she did have to wear the stupid nightgown. It was her twenty-fifth birthday and time for her to participate in the family legend. Not that she believed in magic or happily-ever-after. As far as she was concerned, falling in love or caring about someone was a one-way ticket to heartache.
She opened her mouth to express her opinion, then pressed her lips tightly together. She might not be a believer, but her sister, Cassie, had more than enough faith for the both of them.
Chloe stared into the face that was nearly as familiar as her own. Cassie was adopted, but younger by only six months. The two girls had been together since Cassie was four weeks old and they were best friends. Chloe had shared her admittedly cynical opinion on more than one occasion, but Cassie’s belief in the legend had never wavered. Who was she to try and change her sister’s mind now? It was just for one night. What could it hurt?
“I’ll wear it,” she said, trying to sound gracious.
Cassie leaned forward and hugged her. “I knew you would,” she said and bounced off the bed. Her short, thick brown hair swung around her face. “I’ll go tell Aunt Charity. Won’t she be surprised?”
“Probably not,” Chloe muttered when she was alone. Aunt Charity had a sixth sense about these things. No doubt the older woman figured she already knew whom Chloe was going to dream about.
“I’m not going to dream about anyone,” she said aloud as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, then slipped out of her jeans. “It’s just a nightgown. It has no mystic powers. It’s now the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake! No one believes that kind of thing.”
She unfastened her bra and tossed the garment onto the floor, then picked up the nightgown. The cotton was cool to her touch and she shivered involuntarily.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted. But she hesitated before pulling the soft fabric over her head. What if the legend was true? What if she was really going to dream about the man she was destined to love? What if—“What if people have been abducted by aliens lurking in cornfields?” she asked aloud.
“Oh, I don’t think those stories are true,” her aunt said as she entered the bedroom. Charity raised dark eyebrows. “So how much did Cassie have to twist your arm to get you to wear it tonight?”
Chloe shrugged as she smoothed the nightgown in place. “Not too much. I figure it’s an inevitable rite of passage for Bradley women, as inescapable as birthdays and taxes. I’m just sorry she’s going to be disappointed in the morning.”
“Yes,” Charity said as she moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. “It will be sad. Cassie is one of those rare types who is a true believer. There aren’t many left.”
Chloe had turned twenty-five that very day, but suddenly she felt like a ten-year-old with a favorite relative staring at a less than perfect report card, all the while telling her the low grades were fine, as long as she’d tried her best.
“You can’t tell me you believe in the legend,” Chloe said as she plopped down on the edge of her bed.
Charity settled next to her. The older woman was of average height with the Wright family’s dark eyes and hair. She had to be in her mid-fifties, but she could have easily passed for someone a dozen years younger.
“I’ve traveled all around the world,” Charity reminded her. “I’ve seen many amazing things. As for magic and legends?” She shrugged. “Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t?”
Chloe snorted indelicately. “Give me a break. So you’re saying that this nightgown is several hundred years old and is magical?”
“You never know.”
Chloe fingered the soft cotton. “It’s in pretty good shape for an antique.”
“So am I, dear.” Charity patted her hand.
“You’re hardly an antique.” She drew in a deep breath. “It would be nice if it were all true, but I just can’t take that step of faith.”
“That’s the reporter in you.”
“Agreed. But someone in this family has to be practical. Between you and Cassie, you’ve always got your heads in the clouds.”