In Name Only by Roxanne Jarrett Read Free Book Online Page B

saleslady smiled at her from the arched entrance. "When's the happy event?"
    "Oh, I'm—I'm just looking," Jill stuttered. "We haven't set the date yet." How could she explain that it was only a day away?
    "Well, those are things we want to plan well ahead. Wouldn't you like some help?"
    Jill nodded shyly.
    "Big wedding or small?"
    "Small." Jill let herself be led over to the racks of garments.
    "Formal or informal?" the saleslady wanted to know.
    "There'll just be a few of us," Jill said carefully. She had really meant to buy a party dress, one that could be used over and over. She did not think of it as something that would be folded carefully and put away for a daughter.
    "White?"
    Jill shrugged. "It's very informal."
    And then she saw it, a soft dress of peach silk crepe de chine with delicate bouquets on it of red, white and teal.
    "That's the one," she said promptly. "It's been waiting for me."
    The saleslady gave her an odd look. "That just came in this morning. The buyer thought of it as a bridesmaid's dress."
    "I'll try it on."
    "It's unusual for the bride," the saleslady said.
    Jill headed for the dressing room. It was to be an unusual wedding, to say the least.

    Late Thursday evening, Mrs. Hughes summoned Jill to the phone. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary; but refused to divulge the caller's name.
    Derek! Jill picked up the phone reluctantly, almost tempted to disconnect, but she could not. "Hello?" she asked in a soft, hesitant manner.
    "Shopping all finished?"
    For a moment she did not recognize the voice, and then it came to her. "Simon?" It occurred to her that she had spoken his name but once before.
    "Did you expect someone else?"
    "N—no." Everything about him, or even pertaining to him seemed to make her stutter. "Where are you calling from?"
    "My hotel. New York. All ready for the big event?"
    "I think so."
    "Packed?"
    "I'm doing that now."
    "Good. I spoke with Jay. He has your passport, the works. He'll pick you up first thing in the morning, nine o'clock and then drive out to the airport. I expect to be in by nine-thirty. It's snowing there I heard. How is it?"
    "Pretty heavy."
    "Well, I hope the runways are cleared by morning."
    "I hope so, too." She felt tongue-tied, unable to think of a bright thing to say.
    "You have everything?"
    "I think so."
    "Good. Are you feeling all right?"
    "Fine," she said.
    "Not scared?"
    "Scared?" She managed a slight laugh. "No. Should I be?"
    It was his turn to laugh. "No, maybe I should be."
    She could think of nothing to say.
    "Well," he went on, after waiting a moment, "See you tomorrow."
    "Okay." She felt acutely uncomfortable, although she couldn't say why. Perhaps his voice, intimate and soft, frightened her. She had the strange feeling that she expected him to say something romantic, or even that he was looking forward to seeing her. She heard the disconnect and replaced the receiver slowly.
    Mrs. Hughes peered at her from the parlor. In the background she heard the sound of the television set. Jill gave her a big smile as she passed the room on her way back. "Thanks, Mrs. Hughes." She had asked the landlady to be a witness at the wedding ceremony; Jay Wilhelm would be the other. She thought as she walked down the hallway, that their conversation had been hardly the kind that lovers should have had.
    Theirs would be a queer sort of marriage, he patronizing, treating her like a child; she, knowing but afraid to face it, that from the moment she had looked at him, had surveyed his broad back as he stood at the window in the parlor on Tuesday morning, she had, quite simply, fallen in love.
    She locked herself in her room. He can't even begin to love me, she told herself. He's worldly, traveled; he's been everywhere, done everything. I'm simply a little piece of flotsam he's picked up on the Chicago shore because he cared for my uncle. And he's stuck with me. It must be a pretty bitter pill to swallow. To protect my uncle's fortune, to protect me