Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Rachel Hauck is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA TODAY bestselling author of The Wedding Dress, which was also named Inspirational Novel of the Year by Romantic Times and was a RITA finalist. Rachel lives in central Florida with her husband and pet and writes from her ivory tower. Visit her online at RachelHauck.com; Facebook: RachelHauck; Twitter: @RachelHauck; Instagram: @rachelhauck.

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The WEDDING DRESS

Thomas Nelson

Chapter One

April 14

It was the breeze, a change in the texture of the unseen that made her look up and walk around a stand of shading beech trees. Charlotte paused on the manicured green of the Ludlow Estate for a pure, deep breath, observing the elements of the day—blue sky, spring trees, sunlight bouncing off the parked-car windshields.

She'd woken up this morning with the need to think, to pray, to get closer to heaven. She'd tugged on her favorite pair of shorts and driven up to the ridge.

But instead of solitude, Charlotte found her piece of Red Mountain busy and burdened with shoppers, seekers, and bargain hunters. The annual Ludlow antiques auction to raise money for the poor was in full force on the estate's luscious grounds.

Charlotte raised her sunglasses to the top of her head, resenting the intrusion. This was her personal sanctuary, even if the rest of the world didn't know it. Mama used to bring her here for picnics, parking on a gravel service road and sneaking Charlotte along the Ludlows' perimeter, laughing and whispering, "Shh," as if they were getting away with something fun and juicy.

She'd find a spot on the back side of a knoll, spread a blanket, open a bucket of chicken or a McDonald's bag, and exhale as she looked out over the valley toward the Magic City. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yep," Charlotte always said, but her eyes were on Mama, not Birmingham's lights. She was the most beautiful woman Charlotte had ever seen. And almost eighteen years after her death, she still was the most beautiful woman Charlotte had ever seen. Mama had a way of just being, but she died before she imparted that gift to Charlotte.

Shouts invaded Charlotte's memorial moment with Mama. Bidders and buyers moved in and out from under the auction tent spread across the side lawn.

Shading her eyes from the angled sunlight, Charlotte stood in the breeze, watching, deciding what to do. Go back home or walk the grounds? She didn't need or want anything that might be under that tent. Didn't have the money to buy even if she did.

What she needed was to think through—pray about—her recent tensions with Tim's family. His sister-in-law Katherine specifically. The whole mess challenged her to reconsider the leap she was about to make.

As Charlotte turned toward her car, the wind bumped her again and she glanced back. Through the trees and beyond the tent, the second-floor windows of the Ludlow stone-and-glass mansion shone with the golden morning light and appeared to be watching over the proceedings on the ground.

Then the wind shifted the light, a shadow passed over the window, and the house seemed to wink at her. Come and see ...

"Hey there." A lofty woman's voice caused Charlotte to turn around. "You're not leaving already, are you?" She lugged up the slope of the lawn with a box in her hands.

Charlotte recognized her. Not by name or face, but by aura. One of the classic Southern women that populated Birmingham. Ones with dewy skin, pressed slacks, cotton tops, and a modest string of pearls. She stopped by Charlotte, breathless.

"You've not even gone up to the auction tent. I saw you pull in, sweetie. Now, come on, we've beautiful items for auction. Is this your first time here?" She dipped into the box and pulled out a catalog. "Had to run to my car to get more. We're busy, busy this year. Well, you can see that by the cars. Remember now, all the proceeds go to the Ludlow Foundation. We give millions in grants and scholarships around the city."

"I've admired the foundation for quite a while." Charlotte flipped through the catalog.

"I'm Cleo Favorite, president of the Ludlow Foundation." She offered Charlotte her hand. "You're Charlotte Malone."

Charlotte regarded Cleo for a moment, slowly shaking the woman's hand. "Should I be impressed you know me or run screaming back to my car?"

Cleo smiled. Her teeth matched her pearls. "My niece was married last year."

"I see. She bought her dress from my shop?"

"She did, and for a while, I believed she was more excited about working with you than marrying her fiancé. Quite a business you have there."

"I've been very fortunate." More than any poor, orphaned girl dreamed. "Who is your niece?"

"Elizabeth Gunter. She married Dylan Huntington." Cleo started toward the tent. Charlotte followed so as not to be rude.

"Of course, I remember Elizabeth. She was a beautiful bride."

"And she wanted the whole wide world to know it." Cleo laughed with a pop of her hand against the breeze. "She darn near sent my brother to the poorhouse. But you only get married once, right?"

"I hear that's the idea." Charlotte touched her thumb to the shank of her engagement ring—the reason she'd driven up here today. She paused at the edge of the tent.

"So, Charlotte, are you looking for any particular item? Something for your shop?" Cleo dropped the box of catalogs on a table and started down the main aisle as if she expected Charlotte would follow. "We have some beautiful wardrobes for sale. The catalog tells you the lot number, when and where to bid. The auctioneer just moves to the piece. We found that to be easier than—well, what does any of that matter? It's a great auction and it runs smoothly. Tell me, what are you looking for?" Cleo tipped her head to one side and clasped her hands together at her waist.

Charlotte stepped under the tent's shade. "Actually, Cleo,"—I came up here to think—"my bridal shop is strictly contemporary." Charlotte rolled the catalog in her hand. "But I guess browsing is always fun." She could walk the aisles to think and pray, right?

"Why sure it is. You're bound to find something you like as you ... browse." Cleo winked. "It works best if you go ahead and give yourself permission to spend some of your hard-earned money."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Cleo trotted off and Charlotte picked a side aisle to wander, examining the pieces as if the answer she longed for might be lurking among the ancients and the antiques.

Maybe she'd hear, He's the one, as she passed a twentieth-century breakfront or a nineteenth-century wardrobe.

But probably not. Answers didn't often just appear to her out of the ethereal realm. Or drop on her suddenly. She worked for her life answers. Just rolled up her sleeves, evaluated the situation, calculated costs, and decided. She'd have never opened Malone & Co. otherwise.

Charlotte paused in front of a dark wood foyer table and traced her fingers over the surface. Gert had one like this in her foyer. Wonder what ever happened to it? Charlotte bent to see if the underside had been marked with a red magic marker.

It hadn't. Charlotte moved on. That table wasn't Gert's. Oh, she'd been so mad when she discovered her niece had run amuck with that red pen.

At the end of the aisle, Charlotte halted with a sigh. She should head back down to the city. Her hair appointment was in a few hours anyway.

Instead, she started down the next aisle, let her thoughts wander to Tim and the struggle in her heart.

Four months ago she'd been perfectly ensconced in her steady, predictable, comfortable day-to-day life. Then the contractor who remodeled her shop harangued her into accepting his Christmas dinner invitation. He seated her next to Tim Rose and changed Charlotte's life.

...