Found A Homeless Billionaire Husband for Christmas novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: The Dress

"Don't you dare cry on it," Nana said. "That's seventy-year-old silk."

I stood on a kitchen chair in the middle of her cottage in my grandmother's wedding dress.

It was December again.

The cedar in the corner had colored lights on it, and Quinton had cut it down himself from the back fence line, the way he'd been told.

The dress had come out of a cedar chest at the foot of Nana's bed that morning, wrapped in blue tissue paper.

Ivory silk. Long sleeves. A row of tiny covered buttons down the back that took her twenty minutes with a crochet hook.

"It fits," I said.

"Of course it fits. You've got my shoulders." She stood back on her cane and looked at me over her red glasses. "Your granddaddy saw me in it and walked into a doorframe."

"He did not."

"He did. Took the skin off his nose. We've got pictures."

"I'd like to see those."

"You can see them when you're old enough." She tugged at the hem. "Turn around."

I turned around on the chair.

I could see us in the dark window over her sink.

An old woman in a flour-dusted cardigan with pins in her mouth.

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