Wedding at Cardwell Ranch. B.J. Daniels
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she taken them out of the closet earlier when she’d changed to go to dinner? Her heart began to pound. She’d been upset earlier but she wouldn’t have just thrown her clothes on the bed like that.
Then how had they gotten there? She’d locked the cabin when she’d left.
Panicked, she raced through the house to see if anything was missing or if any of the doors or windows had been broken into. Everything was just as she’d left it—except for the clothes on her bed.
Reluctantly, she walked back into her bedroom half-afraid the clothes wouldn’t still be on the bed. Another hallucination?
The clothes were there. Unfortunately, that didn’t come as a complete relief. Tonight at dinner, she’d worn capris, a blouse and sandals since it was June in Montana. Why would she have pulled out what appeared to be almost everything she owned from the closet? No, she realized, not everything. These were only the clothes that Nick had bought her.
Tears blurred her eyes as she started to pick up one of the dresses. Like the others, she hated this dress because it reminded her of the times he’d made her wear it and how the night had ended. It was very low cut in the front. She’d felt cheap in it and told him so but he’d only laughed.
“When you’ve got it, flaunt it,” he’d said. “That’s what I say.”
Why hadn’t she gotten rid of these clothes? For the same reason she hadn’t thrown out the chili pot after the squirrel incident. She hadn’t wanted to upset her mother-in-law. Placating Mother Taylor had begun right after Allie had married her son. It was just so much easier than arguing with the woman.
“Nick said you don’t like the dresses he buys you,” Mildred had said disapprovingly one day when she’d stopped by the cabin and asked Allie why she wasn’t wearing the new dress. “There is nothing wrong with looking nice for your husband.”
“The dresses he buys me are just more revealing than I feel comfortable with.”
Her mother-in-law had mugged a face. “You’d better loosen up and give my son what he wants or he’ll find someone who will.”
Now as she reached for the dress on the top of the pile, she told herself she would throw them out, Mother Taylor be damned.
But the moment she touched the dress, she let out a cry of surprise and panic. The fabric had jagged cuts down the front. She stared in horror as she saw other deep, angry-looking slices in the fabric. Who had done this?
Her heart in her throat, she picked up another of the dresses Nick had made her wear. Her sewing scissors clattered to the bedroom floor. She stared down at the scissors in horror, then at the pile of destroyed clothing. All of the dresses Nick had bought her had been ruined.
Allie shook her head as she dropped the dress in her hand and took a step back from the bed. Banging into the closed closet doors, she fought to breathe, her heart hammering in her chest. Who did this? Who would do this? She remembered her brother-in-law calling from out in the hall earlier, asking what was taking her so long before they’d gone to dinner. But that was because she’d taken a shower to get the smell of her own fear off her. It wasn’t because she was in here cutting up the clothes her dead husband had made her wear.
Tears welled in her eyes, making the room blur. She shoved that bitter thought away and wiped at her tears. She wouldn’t have done this. She couldn’t have.
Suddenly, she turned and stared at the closed closet door with mounting fear. Slowly, she reached for the knob, her hand trembling. As the closet door came open, she froze. Her eyes widened in new alarm.
A half dozen new outfits hung in the otherwise nearly empty closet, the price tags still on them. As if sleepwalking, Allie reached for one of the tags and stared in shock at the price. Hurriedly, she checked the others. She couldn’t afford any of them. So where had they come from?
Not only that, the clothes were what she would call “classic,” the type of clothes she’d worn when she’d met Nick. The kind of clothes she’d pleaded with him to let her wear.
“I want other men to look at you and wish they were me,” Nick had said, getting angry.
But when she and Nick went out and she wore the clothes and other men did look, Nick had blamed her.
“You must have given him the eye,” Nick would say as they argued on the way home. “Probably flipped your hair like an invitation. Who knows what you do while I’m at work all day.”
“I take care of your daughter and your house.”
Nick hadn’t let her work after they’d gotten married, even though he knew how much she loved her wedding planning business. “Women who work get too uppity. They think they don’t need a man. No wife of mine is going to work.”
Allie had only the clothes he bought her. She’d purchased little since his death because the money had been so tight. Nick had wanted to know about every cent she’d spent, so she hadn’t been able to save any money, either. Nick paid the bills and gave her a grocery allowance. He said he’d buy her whatever she needed.
Now she stared at the beautiful clothes hanging in her closet. Beautiful blouses and tops. Amazing skirts and pants and dresses. Clothes Nick would have taken out in the yard and burned. But Nick was gone.
Or was he? He still hadn’t been declared legally dead. That thought scared her more than she wanted to admit. What if he suddenly turned up at her door one night?
Was that what was making her crazy? Maybe she had done this. She had yearned for clothing like this and hated the clothes Nick had bought her, so had she subconsciously...
Allie stumbled away from the closet, bumped into the corner of the bed and sat down hard on the floor next to it. Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to keep from screaming. Had she shoplifted these clothes? She couldn’t have purchased them. Just as she couldn’t have cut up the dresses and not remembered. There had to be another explanation. Someone was playing a horrible trick on her.
But even as she pondered it, more rational thoughts came on its heels. Did she really believe that someone had come into the cabin and done this? Who in their right mind would believe that?
Pushing herself up, she crawled over to where she’d dropped her purse as she tried to remember even the last time she’d written a check. Her checkbook wasn’t in her purse. She frowned and realized she must have left it in the desk when she’d paid bills.
Getting up she walked on wobbly legs to the desk in the corner, opened the drawer and took out her checkbook. Her fingers shook with such a tremor that she could barely read what was written in it.
But there it was. A check for more than eight hundred dollars! The handwriting was scrawled, but she knew it had to be hers. She saw the date of the check. Yesterday?
She had dropped Nat off for a playdate and then gone into Bozeman... Could she account for the entire afternoon? Her heart pounded as she tried to remember everything she’d done and when she might have bought these clothes. She’d been wandering around in a daze since Nick’s death. She couldn’t account for every minute of yesterday, but what did that matter? The proof was staring her in the face.
Allie shoved the checkbook into the drawer and tried to pull herself together. She had to think about her daughter.
“You’re fine,” she whispered to herself. “Once you get back to work...” She couldn’t have been more thankful that she had the Cardwell Ranch wedding. More than the money, she needed to do what she loved—planning weddings—and get her mind off everything else.
Once she was out of this house she’d shared with Nick... Yes, then she would be fine. She wouldn’t be so...forgetful. What woman wouldn’t feel she was losing her mind, considering what she’d been going through?
Chapter Two
“Who’s that singing?” five-year-old Ford Cardwell asked as he and his father