Aunt Abigail's Beau by Amy Jo Cooper

Author:Amy Jo Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cooper, road to avonlea, amy jo cooper, amy cooper
Publisher: Davenport Press

Chapter Twelve

“Abigail Ward!” Mrs. Lawson extracted herself from behind the counter, glided towards her newly arrived customers and extended a gracious hand. “May I be one of the first to congratulate you on your lovely news.” Mrs. Lawson loved weddings. They always made her cry. Why, just the announcement of an engagement alone could make her eyes misty.

She patted Abigail’s hand and blinked back the tears of joy that were invading her eyes.

“My goodness. Look at that ring. Come see, Mrs. Potts.”

“I can see it from here. It looks like a beacon in the night.” In Mrs. Potts’ mouth, the words sounded more like a criticism than the compliment she no doubt intended them to be.

Abigail looked radiant in her periwinkle-blue suit and her smart new bonnet. She’ll make a lovely bride, Mrs. Lawson thought.

Mrs. Lawson took Abigail’s hands “Now, I know you’re going to need a million things, so don’t be afraid to ask if you don’t see what you’re looking for.”

“Well, Janet has convinced me that I need a new dress.”

“Dresses,” Janet King hastily interjected.

“Then you’ll need to look at materials and patterns. Come right this way.” Fluttering her hand to indicate that they should follow, Mrs. Lawson flitted across the store, stopping in front of the shelves where the cloth was stored. Materials of all colors and textures were stacked neatly in their cubby-holes. On the bottom ledge lay several pattern books containing the latest styles from New York, Montreal and Paris.

“Oh Abigail, just look at that cream satin for your wedding gown,” Janet exclaimed.

“Nonsense, Janet. I’m not a child bride. No, I prefer the mauve taffeta.”

“Oh no, don’t do that. It’s so sombre. If not the cream, then at least the peach.”

Lifting both eyebrows by way of encouragement, Mrs. Lawson urged her, “The peach would be lovely on you, with your coloring.”

“I’d stick to the mauve taffeta if I were you, Abigail.” Mrs. Potts’ declaration had its desired effect, putting everyone into a state of confusion.

“My goodness,” Mrs. Lawson sputtered, hastily trying to change the subject, “it’s going to be so odd calling you Mrs. MacEwan.”

“Now that’s plain bad luck, Mrs. Lawson, calling someone by their married name before the wedding. Shame on you. Usually ends up the marriage doesn’t take place at all. Although, I hope for your sake, my dear Abigail, that’s not the case,” Mrs. Potts burbled at her with a gooey smile. “Providence knows it’s probably your last chance to throw off the mantle of maidenhood.”

Embarrassment caused everyone, except Mrs. Potts, to develop a keen interest in something other than the conversation. Janet indulged a sudden, overwhelming desire to look through a nearby pattern book, while Mrs. Lawson quickly became obsessed with a crack she had never before noticed on the ceiling.

“Oh dear. I don’t think that I can decide.” Abigail became so flustered that she almost forgot why she was in the store at all.

Janet tried, as discreetly as she could, to remind her.

“Don’t forget about your trousseau.”

“My what?” Abigail’s voice rang clear as a bell through the fog.

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