Better Unwed Than Dead Read online

  Nick exhaled and leaned across the counter, tenderly tucking Julia’s hair behind her ear. "I know how important that dress is to you. I think it's ridiculous that you won't marry me--"

  "Or anyone."

  "Yeah, okay, or anyone, in anything but that dress and I think a therapist could help you over your superstition, but--"

  "It's not a superstition!" Julia snapped, stepping away from his caressing hand and then looking around the shop as her last remaining customer shooed a toddler out the door. She took a deep breath and said calmly, "Look at what happened to my great-grandfather. Grandma never even met the man. He was dead before she was born. Just like with me with my dad."

  "How did the earlier deaths even get associated with that dress?"

  "They, I...well, it's detailed in a family diary. I don't know exactly. I think mom packed it away somewhere. In might be in her trunk at the nursing home."

  "You see? You don't even have a basis for your fears, or your mother’s. You've let this hysteria run away with your imagination."

  Julia bit her lip with indecision, wondering if perhaps what he was saying was true. But if it wasn’t, the consequences, oh my... "It's too big of a risk." Even as she said it, she couldn’t help but admire the ring on her finger. "I'm sorry, Nick. I know that maybe, just maybe, the curse really is a sham. But maybe it isn't. It's not a gamble I'm willing to take. I'm not going to risk your life. No amount of therapy will make me feel otherwise. The dress—the curse supposedly on it—is just something I've had ingrained in me since childhood."

  "Then I'm leaving."

  "Oh!" Julia looked up, startled. She'd forgotten he said that. "What exactly do you mean?"

  He retrieved from his pocket a sheet of paper with notes jotted in his chicken scratch. She always pitied the students who had to decipher his writing on the chalkboard.

  "This morning I compiled a list of antique clothing shops for the whole area and after you left for work I started making calls. Though she says she knows nothing about the theft, a lady in Sandusky recalled buying a gown similar to what I described. She remembers it because of its exquisite condition and because she sold it to a friend, another antique dealer in Detroit."

  When Julia's eyes lit up he quickly continued. "Now this may be a lost cause, honey, but she said she’ll look at a photo of the dress and if it looks like what she sold to her friend, she'll put me in touch with that person. I'm going over there right now, and if it's a match, I want to leave for Detroit immediately."

  Julia was stunned. Nick was going to try to track down the stolen dress for her! She knew he loved her, but hadn't known his affection ran that deep. "I, wh...I want to go with you!"

  "The shop--"

  "I'll close the shop for a few days."

  "Julia, no," He wrapped his hand around her head and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "You can't close shop when tourist season is just getting underway. And anyhow, I don't know how long I'll be gone. The dress might not be in Detroit now, if it's even the same gown. It might not be. This could be wild goose chase."

  Julia could see Nick’s apprehension. "I won't get my hopes up. But thank you for even trying. I don't even know what to say, other than you're wonderful. I don't even deserve you."

  Nick smiled and kissed her again. "I usually think I'm the one who's undeserving of you. I'll try my best to find the dress."

  LATE the next morning Nick entered Angela’s Antiques in downtown Detroit, where the sales clerk led him to the office of Angela herself. The attractive, red headed woman—a cougar if he’d ever seen one—seated behind the enormous wooden desk nodded her head when she looked over photo of the wedding gown Nick produced.

  "Yes, I had this gown for sale in my shop for over two years. A private collector eventually purchased it, for a nice price. I'm sorry I don't know who it was now. I don't keep records of things like that." She handed the photo back to Nick, noting his crestfallen expression. "French, I believe the gown was," she added, fluffing her hair then smoothing her hands over her shapely waist and hips.

  "Yeah," Nick said with a heavy sigh. "French would probably be right. My fiancé, her mother's side is French by way of Louisiana."

  "This dress, you say it was stolen? I assure you neither I, nor my associate in Sandusky, are in the habit of receiving stolen property. I'm so sorry. Had either of us known..." Nick waved his hand forlornly.

  "If your fiancé wants to wear an antique bridal gown, perhaps you'll find one she'd like here in my shop--"

  "No, no. It has to be this gown, or she won't marry me."

  "Oh?" Angela's perfectly plucked brow arched incredulously. “If she won’t marry you, plenty of other women would be happy to, in a burlap sack, no less.”

  Nick shrugged dismissively and leaned against the desk. Angela glanced through her office door into the shop. Her sales assistant was busy ringing up a customer, with several more customers waiting. Hurrying to close the door, she faced it for a few moments while her hands fluttered at the level of her chest. Nick watched her back with curiosity. When she turned to face him, he noticed her blouse was suddenly more revealing. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as she stalked toward him like a hungry animal sizing up its prey.

  "Uh--" He straightened away from the desk the instant Angela invaded his personal space, but she pressed the palm of her hand to his chest and pushed him back against the desk. Sliding one nylon-covered thigh between his, she mashed herself against him, pelvis to chest. For a moment Nick was too stunned to move. He hadn’t had any breasts but Julia’s mashed against him in well over a year. Angela’s were about the same size as Julia's, but felt different, foreign. His body stirred with inevitable curiosity even as his mind shrieked in protest.

  "Um," He placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to shift her away, but she was stronger than she looked and he didn’t want to manhandle her. What if she screamed ‘rape’ upon rebuked advances?

  "Tell you what, Nick. You seem like a really good guy, probably too good of a guy for a woman who would make such crazy demands. "

  He started to argue, because she had no idea what kind of a woman Julia was, but Angela silenced him, pressing her fingers to his lips. She ground her pelvis into his, and grinned.

  "You have a boner!"

  Nick groaned against her fingers. He couldn't help the damn boner! He had a high sex drive and with the stressful end of school year activities in the prior weeks, he and Julia hadn't made love recently. His body was reacting against his mind's will.

  Angela grinned triumphantly when he grasped her hips, but her expression turned sour when he merely moved her away and stepped toward the door.

  "You seem to have the wrong idea about me. I came here looking for my fiancés dress, not to get laid."

  Angela sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "But consider this. Upon the culmination of getting laid, love, I'll provide you with information that will aid your plight."

  "What? You're saying you do know who bought the dress, after all?"

  "Maybe...there's only one way for you to find out, isn’t there?" She ran her hands over her breasts and hips.

  Nick shifted from one foot to the other, his body still responding to the provocation. If he slept with this woman, he might be able to restore Julia's dress to her and she’d marry him. She never need know the price he paid. But could he live with the knowledge that he'd been unfaithful, even just once, prior to their marriage? His erection flagged. It would be bad enough never marrying Julia. But it would be worse to marry her and have that on his conscience. "Thanks, but I'll have to pass on your offer."

  Angela stared in disbelief as Nick exited her office, but caught up with him just as he stepped onto the sidewalk. "Look," she grabbed his arm. When he frowned she let go. "I'm sorry for that back there, but you can’t blame a woman for trying. It’s not every day a man who looks like you walks into my shop. But it was unprofessional of me. All I was going to suggest was that you find a good seamstress who might be able t
o make a decent imitation of that gown. Maybe your lucky little fiancé would be satisfied with a look alike."

  "Perhaps she would. Thanks, Angela."

  Nick breathed a sigh of relief when he slid behind the wheel of his car. That had been...uncomfortable. Never before had he been tempted to cheat on Julia. He had plenty of lovers before her, but they paled in comparison. There was no comparison. Julia routinely blew him a way, so to speak, treating his every erection like a special occasion. But back there in Angela's office? Yeah, he was certainly tempted. Never mind the root of his desire was to get his hands on the missing gown. Temptation was temptation. He was proud of his fortitude in walking out of that office with his fidelity intact. What he wasn’t proud of was the fact he was now incredibly aroused.

  Reaching his hotel, he went to his room and threw himself on the bed. His fingers drummed on his chest for a moment then quickly traveled south. He thought about Julia in the fishnet stockings she surprised him with the previous month. It was a little after noon and Julia always closed shop and went home for lunch. He dialed the number.

  JULIA stepped back from the refrigerator, reaching for the phone. "Hello?" The word was garbled, her mouth full of a bagel and fat free cream cheese, her usual midday fare, along with an apple or banana. She typically topped off her efforts to be healthy with a cupcake or a couple of cookies and then swore it was a good thing she rode her bike the couple of blocks to and from her shop.

  "Hey honey, it's me."

  "Oh! Did you find anything out about the dress?"

  "Um, yeah, sort of…I've got a few leads."

  "Good! Good! Maybe this won't be a bust, after all. But if it is, well...not being married can sort of be like being married."

  "I know, and that would be fine, I guess. But, this is at least worth a shot. Anyhow, I miss you."

  "You just saw me yesterday." She took another bite of bagel. "But yeah, I miss you, too."

  "What are you wearing right now?"

  Julia nearly choked on her mouthful. "What do you think I'm wearing? What I always wear to the shop, slacks and a blouse."

  "That sounds nice." His soft words were accompanied by a sigh and metallic rustle.

  "Nick? Where are you? What are you doing?"

  "I'm in my hotel room. What have you got under the slacks and blouse?"

  She recognized the unmistakable tone of his arousal in the gruffness of his voice. Heat washed over her body. This was a game they never before played. She licked her lips and considered her answer. She was wearing plain white cotton under her clothes. But how sexy was that? "Well, I'm, uh...I'm wearing those green silk panties you like, and, um, the pink bra with the green bow and lace that goes so well with them." He'd know she was lying because he knew she didn’t wear the sexy stuff to the store, but still she heard his agonized groan. Pressing the receiver closer to her ear, Julia's body began to throb. She pictured Nick taking his ample erection in hand. She knew just how he liked to maneuver it, and it was a thrill knowing he was doing so right that instant, while thinking of her. "Well, what are you wearing?"

  "A t-shirt, and jeans--they're unzipped. Ah Julia, you know I love those green panties. You look hot in them. So hot that right now I’m--"

  "I know what you're doing right now!" Julia cut him off, aroused but a little embarrassed and concerned about government tapping and crossed wires. Nick didn't sound remotely embarrassed, but then he'd always been more adventurous.

  "It feels good, Julia. Are you going to join me?"

  "Um…" Yeah right, as if she’d start masturbating right there at the kitchen table in front of her bagel, when she had to be back to re-open Peninsula Gifts in twenty-seven minutes.

  "Come on, honey. Are you slipping your hand inside those green panties for me? Tell me how it feels, because on this end things are feeling pretty amazing. What I’d really like to do is pull those panties down and--"

  "Okay! Gosh. You don’t have to spell it out." Even her admonishment wasn’t enough to slow Nick’s rapid breath. That sound, coupled with the faint sound of his hand moving against his flesh, made her melt. She clutched the phone in both hands, bagel forgotten. "Okay, my hand is in my panties now," she lied. "It feels good." Another lie, it felt damned frustrating. "I wish your hand was in my panties, Nick." Finally the truth!

  Nick’s breath hitched and he moaned. Emboldened, Julia continued, "Ooh it's nice, Nick. Nice and wet. You know how it feels when it gets like that, don't you?" She bit her lip to hold back a snicker.

  "Oh, yeah, I, ah..."

  He was getting close, she could tell, so she sat up straighter and moaned. A good replica of the sounds she made when he was really with her. Still aroused, Julia nonetheless had to stifle a giggle. "I'm finger banging myself really hard now, Nick." She almost choked on a laugh at her reversion to middle school vocabulary. She hoped it translated across the phone line as an impassioned sound.

  "Is that right?" His breathing was heavy. The sound alone made her ear feel hot, as well as the faint pumping sounds of his fist. "I'm so close, honey. Are you going to come with me?"

  No, Julia thought, but he didn't need to know that. She didn’t want to ruin his fun. She swiped her finger through the cream cheese on her bagel and sucked it clean, moaning in hopefully orgasmic sounding pleasure. There was a garbled moan on the other end of the line and although a mini flash fire tore through her, he still finished alone. Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, Julia went to the sink to pat cold water on her warm cheeks, listening as Nick's breathing slowed. She concocted a satisfied, tired sigh for good measure.

  "You were faking,” Nick accused after a moment. Julia's laugh was his answer. "Well, what if I said I was faking, too?"

  "But you weren't," Julia declared with certainty.

  "No?"

  "No. I heard your hand, working away rather frantically."

  “Oh. Huh. Well…”

  “Well it was fun anyhow. And if I had more time I might…but I’ve got to get back to work soon.”

  “I know, but thanks anyway, honey. I still miss you, though.”

  Julia heard him shift off the bed and move around his hotel room. "Miss you, too. When do you think you'll be back? What are these leads you have?"

  "Yeah…um, I’m sure when I'll be back. The dress was sold to a woman in, uh, St. Louis. I have the contact information."

  "Wow, all the way to St. Louis? Are you sure you want to pursue it? I mean, I'd love to have the dress back and to be able to marry you, but--"

  "Yes! I want to pursue it. Don't worry, Julia. This is my choice. Something I want to do."

  "All right then. Thank you. Even if you don't find it, I think it's amazing you're doing this for me."

  "You're amazing."

  Julie smiled at the conviction in his voice. "I'm going to visit mom at the nursing home after work. I’ll see if the diary is in the trunk. I've never read it myself but I think I remember mom mentioning years ago that it has information about the origins of the curse."

  “I still can't believe there’s a diary with information about this supposed curse, yet you’ve never read the damned thing.”

  Julia winced at his exasperation. "I did flip through it once when mom had it out, but the hand writing was pretty illegible. But who knows? I can sometimes read your writing, so maybe I'll have luck!"

  "I hope whatever is in the diary will convince you the curse is a farce. But I have to say I’m rather surprised you haven’t made the effort to read it already, given you believe so wholly in the curse.”

  Julia was quiet for a long moment until finally she sighed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever really wanted to know, Nick. It’s hard to explain. This curse has been like the boogieman following me around all my life. I’ve kind of been afraid to read the diary. Do you understand?”

  Nick exhaled slowly. "Sure, sure, it’s okay, honey. I'll call you this evening and let you know whether or not I'm heading to, uh, St. Louis, and then you can tell me what the diary says,
if you’ve had a chance to read it by then."

  "Okay. Love you."

  "Love you, too. Bye."

  CHATEAU Delacroix was one of New Orleans many beautiful French Quarter hotels, complete with a lush tropical courtyard, weathered stone fountains, kidney shaped swimming pool and flitting birds. Nick was in paradise, until Julia called.

  "Hey!" She greeted him cheerfully, "How is St. Louis?"

  Nick squirmed in his garden chair and fingered his New Orleans street map with the address of a seamstress specializing in French period costumes jotted on the back. He conducted a long internet search the day before in his Detroit hotel room and this New Orleans seamstress was reputed to be among the best, even routinely creating costumes for Hollywood films. "St. Louis is good. I have an appointment today with the most recent owner of the dress, and then, uh, I thought I'd go see the Arch."

  "That sounds wonderful! I wish I was there."

  Me, too, Nick thought glumly, not at all at ease with his deceit.

  "I found the diary," she continued, "There's some good information in it."

  "Like what?" He prayed her answer would be ‘the curse, as it turns out, is just a sham—a silly baseless tale. Why don't you come home now and we'll hop a flight to Vegas and be married before the week is out?’

  "Well," Julia began, "the dress was made in New Orleans in 1887, by my great, great grandmother and her maid. She patterned it after a picture in a French magazine. Evidently, the maid was also a voodoo priestess."

  "Voodoo, huh?" Nick rolled his eyes.

  "Yes, voodoo," Julia said vehemently at his skeptical tone. "According to the story in the diary, my ancestor was in a rush to have the dress finished because the wedding was short notice. She wouldn't let her maid pause work on the gown, even for a minute, though the maid’s mother was ill. Apparently the mother died and the maid did not get to say goodbye. So, she declared that if the gown was so important it had better be worn by all the women of my ancestor’s decent on their wedding day. If they did so, all would be well for them. But if they didn't wear it, they would soon be widowed."