Better Unwed Than Dead Read Free Page A

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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