The Dress Shop on King Street (Heirloom Secrets Book #1)

Ashley Clark

• Publisher: Bethany House Publishers
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9780764237607
• eBook ISBN: 9781493428281

Harper Dupree has pinned all her hopes on a future in fashion design. But when it comes crashing down around her, she returns home to Fairhope, Alabama, and to Millie, the woman who first taught her how to sew. As Harper rethinks her own future, long-hidden secrets about Millie's past are brought to light.

In 1946, Millie Middleton--the daughter of an Italian man and a Black woman--boarded a train and left Charleston to keep half of her heritage hidden. She carried with her two heirloom buttons and the dream of owning a dress store. She never expected to meet a charming train jumper who changed her life forever . . . and led her yet again to a heartbreaking choice about which heritage would define her future.

Now, together, Harper and Millie return to Charleston to find the man who may hold the answers they seek . . . and a chance at the dress shop they've both dreamed of. But it's not until all appears lost that they see the unexpected ways to mend what frayed between the seams.

ONE

Downtown Charleston, 1946

Millicent Middleton.

That’s the name Mama told her to give if anyone asked. Half of it was honest, at least.

Millie supposed her mama was being overcautious like all folks do when they’ve got an aching spot in heart or body, but she didn’t mind playing along. She, too, still grieved for her daddy from what she remembered of him and sometimes wondered . . . if only they’d been more careful, well maybe he wouldn’t have died.

Millie straightened the red cloche pinned to her bob-cut curls and peered into the window of the dress shop on King Street. The grey-blue of her dress complemented the deep olive of her skin, and her skirt swooshed a bit as she stood on her tiptoes to get a better look inside.

Ever since she first saw her mama’s buttons, Millie had been fascinated by dresses and the stories of the women who wore them.

Mama collected buttons—said each had a hole to match—but there were two butterfly buttons in particular that she kept a close eye on and never saw fit to use.

Senseless, really. Buttons with that kind of beauty just lyin’ around. Maybe they were waiting for just the right garment.

Inside the shop, a blond woman reached for a peach silk number on display. What Millie would give to go inside the store and let her own fingers graze the fabric of that gown.

Layers of peach silk draped down the back of the dress, then fell into a line of buttons along the fitted waistline and hips. The whole gown was like a summer dream.

Millie sighed.

Maybe someday.

Just as she was swooning, a young man tripped down the sidewalk and bumped into her arm. He righted her elbow immediately, and the two locked eyes.

He was handsome—Millie immediately noticed it—and he looked like just the sort who might’ve returned from war with Germany.

His blue eyes glimmered, his blond hair shone, and his pinstriped vest accentuated broad shoulders.

Millie smiled at him.

He returned her grin.

Her heart fluttered with all the possibilities of having been noticed.

“Looking for a wedding dress?” he asked, a glimmer in his eye. “My father owns the place, you know.”

“Yes . . . I mean . . . oh no.” Millie waved her hand, trying to clarify her meaning. “I’m looking, but no intent to buy.” She held up her left hand for his inspection. “What I mean to say is I was daydreaming about the dresses. The fabrics. Sewing gowns like these.”

He laughed at the response and seemed flattered to have flustered her. Then he took her hand in his own as if inspecting it more closely. “Now, you tell me—why does a woman as beautiful as yourself have such a lonesome ring finger?”

He was probably all talk, and Millie knew it, but she didn’t care. She’d never experienced such blatant flattery from a boy before, and she was going to enjoy it while she could.

Millie pulled her hand from his, not wanting to draw attention to herself and this stranger, despite how she’d secretly enjoyed his touch.

She rubbed the sleeve of her dress where it scratched her wrist, and for a moment she wondered . . . didn’t he know? Could he not tell what was different about her?

But it wasn’t the sort of thing someone said. Not aloud, anyway.

And what did it really matter? It wasn’t as if she planned to marry him.

“I’m Harry.” The boy rocked back on the heels of his loafers. “Harry Calhoun. And you?”

“Millicent Middleton.”

Harry nodded once. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Millie.” He glanced down the street and gestured his head toward the soda fountain on the corner. “Don’t suppose you’d want to get an ice cream, or maybe a Coca-Cola with me? My treat.”

Millie gulped back the panic that began rising in her throat.

Speaking with this boy was one thing, but brazenly walking into the pharmacy with him? For all eyes to see? That was another.

She straightened the cloche on her head, though it didn’t need straightening. “I appreciate the invitation, but I . . .”

Harry ducked down several inches to catch her gaze once more. “Aw, c’mon. It’s just some ice cream.”

She did love ice cream. And she hadn’t tasted any in ages. Folks on the radio were always talking about the economic depression and the war and the country’s recovery; but for Millie’s family, growin’ up in the decades prior hadn’t exactly been rolled in luxury.

Actually, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a sundae. Maybe a year? Her last birthday?

She could almost taste the chocolate fudge sauce dripping over the vanilla ice cream.

Millie sighed. She was set to meet Mama at five o’clock on the dot. So long as Mama and Harry didn’t meet, maybe . . .

“Sure.” The word left her lips before she had a chance to reconsider.

“Excellent.” Harry sounded as if he’d never expected any other answer from her. His smile caught gleams of sunlight.

He started down the sidewalk and glanced over his shoulder, clearly expecting her to follow. “Have you ever been to this soda fountain?”

It was safe to say she hadn’t.

Millie hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

“They make a great sundae. I always get coconut shavings on mine.”

An automobile puffed a cloud of exhaust as it rumbled down the cobblestones of King Street. Harry waited for it, then checked both ways before crossing. Millie stayed close by his side, the skirt of her dress bouncing with each step.

Moments later, they’d reached the pharmacy. Harry held open the door for her, and Millie stepped through.

She’d never been on the other side of the glass before. A jukebox played a cheery tune from the corner, and patrons sat atop stools around the bar. It was everything she’d always envisioned, except alive. Real. And it smelled absolutely delicious.

Millie smiled.

This was going to be a good afternoon. For a few moments, she could live a different kind of reality.

“Welcome, kids. Have a seat.” The man behind the counter scooped heaps of ice cream into fancy glass bowls and poured flavored syrups over them.

Harry chose a seat near the center of the bar, and Millie gladly slid onto the stool beside him.

Hand-painted signs for soda, chocolate milk, and ice cream hung on the wall behind the bar, and the checkered black-and-white tile floor brought an air of whimsy.

Millie swiveled right and left on her stool.

“What can I get you?” The man at the counter pulled a pen from behind his ear and a pad of paper from his apron.

“I’ll have a sundae with chocolate fudge on top.” Millie tried not to sound as enthusiastic as she felt—for she knew she was Cinderella in this dream, and she didn’t want it ending a second sooner than it must. The last thing she needed was Harry thinking she didn’t belong in a place like this.

Even though she didn’t.

“You got it.” The man tapped his fingers against the bar. “And you?”

Harry ordered the same, plus coconut shavings. As the man readied their orders, Harry turned to Millie with that dangerous grin again.

“So, if you aren’t planning a wedding of your own, do tell me, Millie Middleton, what were you doing peering into a bridal shop? Spying on somebody?”

Millie laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what?” Harry asked again. The man set both sundaes on the counter, and Harry plunged his spoon into the ice cream.

“You’ll think it’s silly.” Millie felt her cheeks warming and wondered how much color might show. Not that she was embarrassed of it in the least, but she also wouldn’t give Harry the satisfaction.

“Maybe,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “But you never know until you say it out loud.”

Millie took her first bite of ice cream. The vanilla melted sweetly on her tongue. Her dream was just as sweet—but also as much of a luxury.

“I want to own my own dress shop someday.” Millie found boldness as she said the words aloud. “I want to be a seamstress.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t see what’s so silly about that.”

No . . . you wouldn’t, would you?

“Is it because you’re a woman?” he asked.

Millie looked down at her sundae.

“Because no doubt, with a name like Middleton and a smile like yours, you’ll marry well. I’m sure you’ll find a man who will make it happen for you.”

“What if I told you I want to make it happen for myself?” Her racing pulse defied the sass of her words.

Harry chuckled, then locked eyes with her. “Oh, you were serious.”

“I was, and I am.”

“Then I would say I admire your ambition.” He hesitated a long moment. “But I would remind you that such idealism is precisely why we can’t have women prancing around, running businesses. The idea may be alluring, but it will never happen in American society.”

Millie clenched her teeth but managed a tight-lipped smile. Should’ve known better than to test him. She was normally not so foolish. Long ago, her mama explained why certain dreams and certain people were just not worth her time.

Millie took another bite of her ice cream, then mixed the chocolate fudge into the melting vanilla with her spoon. Blending the two together like a milkshake was her favorite part of a sundae—the hot and the cool, the rich and the sweet. Opposites blended deliciously.

“Tell me more about yourself. What brings you here this afternoon?”

Harry swept his blond hair back with his hand. “I’m studying at the College of Charleston so I can take on the family business someday. But with the pleasant weather today, I skipped class and took a walk down King Street. Perhaps it was fate that led to us meeting.” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Do you live nearby?” he asked.

“Radcliffeborough.”

“Really?” Harry sat up straighter.

“You sound surprised.” Millie swallowed another bite of her sundae, determined not to let one drop go to waste. She ran her thumb beneath her lower lip to remove any traces of chocolate.

“I am, to be honest.” Harry pivoted his stool to face her more directly. “I guess I just assumed you lived on Middleton Plantation or South of Broad. I’m surprised to hear you live uptown.”

Oh, Millie. Why did you have to go and rattle that off?

“Despite that”—Harry inched ever so slightly closer—“I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

Millie frowned. “Did you just say despite that?”

“Did you not hear me say I’d like to take you to dinner?”

Millie simply stared at him. The clock had struck midnight, and it was time for Cinderella to leave.

“Thank you for the sundae, Harry.” Millie stood from the stool and brushed the hem of her dress back into place.

“I . . . I don’t understand.” Harry dropped coins on the counter for the sundaes. In an instant, he was standing beside her, grabbing her arm, and turning her to face him. “I thought things were going well. Was I wrong?”

Heels planted firmly against the checkered tile, Millie raised her chin. “If you don’t like persons from uptown, and you don’t believe a woman can run a business, then I can tell you truthfully, Harry, you are not going to like me. Because you don’t know the half of it if you find those things off-putting.”

The ceiling fan above them pushed the air into a swirl.

“What does that mean, Millie?” Harry shook his head. “Are you trying to keep me guessing?”

Millie reached toward the door, but Harry wouldn’t let go.

“Please, just tell me.”

Millie’s gaze scanned the pharmacy—the girls wearing beautiful dresses and the boys trying to impress them and the artwork that just moments ago, she’d studied so intently.

She’d never come here again. So what was the point of keeping it a secret, ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Endorsements
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Epigraph
• Prologue
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18
• 19
• 20
• 21
• 22
• 23
• 24
• 25
• 26
• 27
• 28
• 29
• 30
• 31
• 32
• 33
• 34
• 35
• 36
• 37
• 38
• 39
• 40
• 41
• 42
• 43
• 44
• 45
• 46
• 47
• 48
• 49
• 50
• 51
• 52
• 53
• Note on Historical Accuracy
• Author’s Note
• Book Club Questions
• Acknowledgments
• About the Author
• Back Ads
• Back Cover