by Kara Lennox
They finally settled on a two-karat oval flanked by six smaller stones. It still seemed huge to Gwen, but at least the setting was flat and wouldn’t get caught on everything.
Gwen wandered to another part of the store while Eli paid for the ring with his credit card. She wondered if she would be liable for his debts after they were married. She pictured hordes of bill collectors standing on her porch with their hands out, and Eli long gone.
Her mother had been forced to deal with just such a scenario, all while fighting a post-partum infection. She’d ultimately lost that fight, dying long before Gwen was old enough to remember her. Her paternal grandmother had told her that her mother, faced with the shambles her life had become after Willie Tanner left her, had simply lost the will to live.
Gwen would never act like that, she vowed. Even if Eli turned out to be another Willie Tanner, she would press on for the sake of her babies. They would not grow up without a memory of either parent, as she had.
Though the temptation was strong to buy Eli his own gaudy ring—one with a huge horseshoe of diamonds, for instance—she instead bought him a plain gold band. He seemed pleased by her choice.
Eli’s ring had to be sized, but Gwen’s fit perfectly, so they took it with them. Eli made Gwen put it on before he even started the car. “It’s a sexist custom, making a bride wear an engagement ring so everybody knows she’s taken. Like the groom can’t trust her otherwise,” Gwen said.
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s all those other men.”
“Oh, yes. That long line of men at my door. No worries, Eli. These days, men practically cross the street to avoid me.”
Still, she put the ring on and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was gorgeous, something she would never have bought for herself. Sylvia would be green with envy—and probably would go buy herself an even bigger diamond.
Gwen relaxed during the drive home. She’d really enjoyed herself today, for the first time in weeks. Her sense of peace and well-being lasted exactly as long as it took to drive back to Jester, where Stella met her on the front porch, an anxious look on her face.
“Stella, whatever’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…you are going to invite me, aren’t you?”
“Pardon me?”
“To the wedding!”
Gwen glared suspiciously at Eli. “You told!”
He shrugged helplessly. “I never said a word.”
“Oh, honey, no one had to tell me. It was written all over your face this morning. I knew something was up when you and Eli disappeared mysteriously right after breakfast, you all dressed up. I made a lucky guess. And even if I hadn’t guessed, you’re wearing an engagement ring!” Stella grabbed Gwen’s hand to get a closer look.
“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Gwen asked worriedly.
“Why would you want to keep it a secret?”
“I don’t want that Harvey Brinkman to show up.”
Stella wrinkled her pert nose. “That fellow is pretty unpleasant. I see your point.”
“I’ll let you come to the wedding if you promise not to breathe a word to anybody.”
“Not even Irene and Oggie?”
Gwen realized she was being unreasonable. All three of her boarders were like family. And she could hardly wait to see the look on Oggie’s face when he heard the news. He would probably think all that scowling had finally served its purpose.
“All right, you can tell Irene and Oggie. But tell them to keep it quiet. We’re sort of eloping, after all, and you can’t have a proper elopement if everybody in town knows!”
Eli just chuckled and headed for his room to change into his work clothes.
Stella beamed like a lighthouse. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. I just knew you two could work things out. What a lovely family you’ll make.”
It was on the tip of Gwen’s tongue to say they hadn’t worked much of anything out, except what their matrimonial status would be. Where would they live? What if Eli wanted to up and move back to Denver? He’d said he would never interfere with her custody, but if they were married, his rights would automatically be equal to hers.
“Gwen, dear, you have a strange look on your face.”
“Just borrowing trouble,” Gwen said, shaking her head. But her distrust of men, and Eli in particular, just refused to be squelched.
“It’s only natural for you to worry about the future at this stage in your life. But everything will work out well for you. I feel it in my bones, and my bones never lie.”
If only Gwen could trust Stella’s bones!
GWEN KNEW something was up. Irene, Stella and Oggie all acted nervous during their dinner of baked chicken, string beans and mashed potatoes, and they said absolutely nothing about her upcoming marriage. But as soon as Irene had cleared the plates, Stella disappeared, returning a short time later with a cake topped with candles.
“Happy engagement!” her three friends said together. Eli looked embarrassed, but Gwen was touched. The cake, obviously homemade, sagged a bit on one side.
“Did you make the cake, Stella?” she asked innocently after she and Eli blew out the candles together.
“How did you know?”
“Just a guess.” But if she hadn’t known before she tasted the cake, she’d have known after. She hadn’t tasted anything that chalky since the last time her grandmother gave her milk of magnesia. But she gamely managed to choke down most of a small slice. Eli looked as if he were having similar trouble.
“Yoo-hoo, anyone home?”
Gwen cringed. It was Wyla Thorne. Because she was Stella’s friend, she thought she had the perfect right to barge right into the boardinghouse any time of the day or night without knocking.
“We’re in the dining room, Wyla,” Stella called to her. “Come on in.”
Wyla appeared in the doorway, her thin body encased in skintight pink polyester pants and a matching pink-and-white striped sweater that clashed with her frizzy red hair.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner,” she said. “Oh, my, whose birthday is it?”
Everyone at the table looked around uneasily. No one wanted to tell her, since Gwen had told them she wanted the engagement kept a secret. But no one wanted to lie, either. Since Gwen was the one who’d put them all in the uncomfortable position, she spoke up.
“It’s not a birthday. We’re celebrating Eli’s and my engagement.”
“Well, it’s about time!” Wyla gave Gwen a dutiful hug. “If you need any advice about the wedding, just call. I’m something of an expert, you know.”
“You’re a wedding planner?” Eli asked politely.
“Oh, no, honey. I’ve been married twice. And divorced, still looking for Lucky Husband Number Three. Of course, I’m beginning to think that’s never going to happen. Every time a good-looking man comes to town, one of the hot young things nabs him.” She gave Eli a meaningful up and down. “So, when’s the date?”
“It’s next Friday,” Eli said, apparently not noticing Gwen’s toe thwacking against his shin.
“Am I invited?”
“It’s just immediate family,” Gwen said.
“But you don’t have any family left,” Wyla pointed out. She had the tact of an anvil falling from a twenty-story building.
“We’re her family,” Irene said quietly but firmly. “Gwen and Eli want a small, private ceremony. I hope you’ll respect their privacy.”
“Oh, of course!” Wyla said. “At this late date, I don’t blame you a bit, Gwen.”
Eli pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. Gwen almost wished he wouldn’t hold back. She was too polite to lash out at Wyla, but she didn’t mind it when someone else did. The woman was unbearably rude, and she’d only gotten worse since the lottery win. She seemed to blame the whole town for her unfortunate choice not to throw her dollar in that week.
Even Stella seemed a bit taken aback by Wyla’s rudeness. But Stella was the last person to take anyone to task. She always
made allowances for Wyla, citing her unfortunate childhood and her trampy mother.
“We better go,” Stella said. “We’ll be late for the movie.”
“I thought we’d skip the movies tonight and go to that dance club in Roan,” Wyla said. “What’s it called, Gwen?”
“The Wild Mustang,” Gwen said between her gritted teeth.
“That’s it. I hear it’s a great place to meet studly men.”
Stella scooted her chair out so quickly she almost knocked it over. “All right. Let me get my purse.”
Oggie spoke up for the first time. “Stella, I’m not sure you should go to a place called The Wild Mustang. Sounds dangerous.”
Wyla just laughed.
Poor Oggie. He was so smitten, it hurt to watch him.
“Why don’t you go with them?” Gwen suggested.
“Gwen! I’m the vice principal. I can’t hang out in bars. What kind of example would I be setting?”
“One hopes none of your students would see you there. Anyway, it’s a very nice club.” Except on Wet T-Shirt Night, but that’s on Tuesdays. “You’d have fun.”
“We’d love to have you,” Wyla said with uncharacteristic generosity. “You can protect us from all those men stampeding to get to us.”
“I’m sure you can take care of yourself,” Oggie murmured, embarrassed.
Stella and Wyla left, much to everyone’s relief.
“I’d like to just pinch her head off sometimes,” Irene said. “And now that she knows about your wedding, it’ll be all over town by noon tomorrow. Mark my words.”
Chapter Seven
Irene was right.
Gwen spent her morning doing what she’d done almost every day since coming home from the hospital—she sat on the porch, wrapped in an afghan and reading. It was just about eleven when her first visitor arrived, Amanda Devlin. Gwen stood up to greet her friend.
“I just wanted to drop off this book Irene ordered,” Amanda said with a studied, casual air. “I know she’s been anxious to read it.” Amanda’s gaze darted to Gwen’s left hand, and she smiled slightly.
“Yes, Eli and I are getting married,” Gwen blurted out, “and yes, that’s a new ring. Would you like to see it?”
Amanda’s smile grew and she threw her arms around Gwen. “Oh, I’m so happy for you. When Eli showed up here, I just knew it would all turn out okay.”
Gwen sank back into her rocking chair. “Does everyone know?”
Amanda nodded. “I’m afraid you and Eli have been the main topic of conversation at the bookstore this morning. Wyla told everybody, but I was sent over to get the straight scoop from you since we can’t trust Wyla to get the details right. Why do you look so sad?”
“We were trying to keep news of the wedding quiet. I have so much to worry about already, and I didn’t want any reporters taking pictures. I mean, would you want wedding pictures where you look like you’re carrying a watermelon under your dress?”
Amanda laughed. “Oh, poor Gwen. I get your drift. But I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle. Harvey Brinkman is getting his information from somebody in this town.”
“Probably Bobby Larson,” Gwen grumbled. “He positively crows every time an article appears in the paper about Jester. And he tried to change the name of our town to ‘Millionaire.’”
“Thank goodness the town council voted him down.” She paused, hesitating.
“What?” Gwen asked.
“Is it okay to ask when the wedding is?”
“Friday, 10:00 a.m. But we’re just going to the justice of the peace. It’s not a big deal.”
“I guess that means I’m not invited.”
Gwen crumbled at the hurt look in Amanda’s eyes. “If you really want to come, you can. But there won’t be much to see. And don’t tell anyone else I invited you.”
“What about Sylvia? She’ll be there, won’t she?”
Gwen gasped. “Sylvia! Oh, my gosh, I better tell her. She’ll be really mad at me if she hears it through the grape—” Gwen cut herself off. It was too late. Sylvia was marching down Main Street toward Gwen’s house, her short blond hair whipping around in the brisk wind. She hadn’t even bothered to remove her purple apron. “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble.”
“I’d love to witness this, but I have to get back to the shop,” Amanda said with a wink. “I’ll do what I can as far as damage control—about the gossip, I mean.”
“Thanks.”
Sylvia didn’t even acknowledge Amanda as the two women passed each other on the steps. She stormed up to the porch, intent on confronting Gwen. “How could you? How could you keep your wedding a secret from your best friend? I kept your secret all this time. I never told one single person how you ended up pregnant, though Lord knows everyone was pumping me for information.”
“I was going to tell you. In fact, I want you to be my maid of honor.”
“You do?” All the fire went out of Sylvia. “I’d love to. But how can I be your maid of honor if I don’t know when the wedding is?”
“It’s Friday morning.”
Sylvia clapped her hands together. “I’m so happy for you!”
It seemed everybody was happy for Gwen, except Gwen herself.
Sylvia immediately sensed Gwen’s mood. She pulled up a chair next to Gwen’s. “What is it, sweetie?”
Gwen couldn’t help it. Her eyes filled with tears. “I just always envisioned my wedding as a bit more romantic than this. Remember when we were in high school, and we used to pick out our colors and flowers, design our dresses, choose our bridesmaids?”
“Let’s see, you wanted a winter wedding, a white velvet dress, forest-green bridesmaid dresses and red and white roses.”
“And you wanted a summer wedding in a garden, with an ecru organdy dress, peach bridesmaid dresses and…oh, yeah, a crown of daisies.”
Sylvia wrinkled her nose at the memory. “We had everything settled except the identity of the groom. At least you’ve solved that problem.”
“Real life is a lot different from girlhood fantasy, though.”
“Oh, come on, Gwen. He’s not everything you’ve ever dreamed of? He’s Prince Charming in blue jeans.”
“I don’t know anything about him! He’s kind, he’s handy around the house, he likes cars and bad sci-fi movies…and Irene’s dog. I caught him sneaking a bone to Benny this morning.”
“Well, there you have it.” Sylvia grinned.
“I only found out yesterday how old he is, when we filled out paperwork.”
“How old is he?” Sylvia immediately wanted to know.
“Thirty-five.”
“So what else do you need to know?”
“His family. Where he grew up, where he went to school. How he ended up as a mechanic. How he learned carpentry. He knows intimate details of my pregnancy, and I don’t know his shoe size.”
“Why don’t you just ask him?”
That was a good question. “I feel nosy asking.”
Sylvia knocked lightly on Gwen’s head with her knuckles. “Hello, wake up, Gwendolyn. Men like women to ask them about themselves. Once you get him started, you’ll probably never shut him up. They love to expound on their favorite subject—themselves.”
“Not Eli. He doesn’t open up, and I’m not good at coaxing information out of him.”
Sylvia squeezed Gwen’s hand. “Maybe it’s better this way. A little mystery never hurt a relationship.” She checked her watch. “Oh, shoot. I left Regina Larson’s hair up in perm rods. She’s going to have an afro if I don’t get back soon.”
“What’s your rush?” Gwen said, imagining the mayor’s wife looking like Bozo the Clown.
“Don’t be mean, Gwen, it’s not becoming.” With a parting promise that she would style Gwen’s hair for the wedding, Sylvia turned and trotted down the steps.
She had hardly cleared the porch before Bobby Larson’s gold Cadillac pulled up to the curb in front of Gwen’s house. Gwen really wasn’t up to more verbal sparrin
g with the mayor, and she considered darting inside and pretending to be indisposed. But he’d already seen her, she realized. He was waving as he made his way up the walkway to her porch.
“Hello, there, Gwen,” he said with an unctuous smile. “How are you feeling these days?”
“Fine, just fine,” she replied, unwilling to share her aches and pains with him. “And yourself?”
“Well, I’m a little concerned, actually.” Without invitation he settled into the chair Sylvia had sat in a few minutes ago.
Gwen groaned silently. The mayor sure had spent a lot of time concerned about her lately.
“I understand you’ve decided to marry this Garrett character.”
“Yes, I have. And I’m sorry you and Eli got off on the wrong foot. He’s a very decent man.”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll have you know I’ve done some checking into your Eli’s background. He’s not the paragon you think he is.”
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Gwen said, her anger rising. “That’s an invasion of Eli’s privacy!”
“Then you don’t want to know what I found out?”
“If there’s anything I need to know about Eli’s past, I’m sure he’ll tell me.”
Bobby just sat there, looking out toward the park—visualizing his precious hotel, no doubt. Now that the gazebo was out of the way, the town council had actually been considering Bobby’s proposal. He was convinced the added tax revenue and the jobs and the boost to tourism would more than make up for the loss of some public park property.
Gwen hated herself for what she said next, but she couldn’t help herself. “All right, just tell me. What did you find out about Eli that’s so terrible?” And please don’t let it be that he has three wives, ten children and a prison record.
“He filed for bankruptcy a few years ago.”
Though it was a warm day, Gwen felt an Arctic chill wiggling up her spine. Not that bankruptcy was the same as a criminal record. But it gave Gwen pause. She remembered how easily Eli whipped out his credit card to pay for her ring.
“I can see by your face he didn’t tell you that,” Bobby said.
“I didn’t ask him for a personal financial statement,” she countered.
