A Wedding in Apple Grove

by C. H. Admirand

  Copyright © 2012 by C.H. Admirand

  Cover and internal design © 2012 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover illustration by Tom Hallman

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Grandma Eagan’s Buttered Pecan Pie

  Apple Grove, Ohio

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Grandma McCormack’s Cream Scones

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  This book is dedicated to three very important people in my writing life: my wonderful editor, Deb Werksman; my fabulous agent, Eric Ruben; and my dear friend, Anne Elizabeth, without whom there would be no book.

  Thank you all for believing in me and allowing me to keep pursuing my dream.

  A taste of home-cooking from Apple Grove!

  Grandma Eagan’s

  Buttered Pecan Pie

  This is a wonderful twist to the traditional pecan pie, using roasted pecans for a unique flavor.

  3/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter

  3/4 cup heavy cream

  1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  1/2 cup light corn syrup

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  3 eggs

  1 1/2 cups toasted pecan halves (toast pecans at 375 degrees for five to ten minutes, stirring three times while baking)

  Your favorite pie crust recipe

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat butter in medium saucepan over low until a golden brown: DO NOT BURN. Immediately pour cream into butter to stop cooking. Pour into mixing bowl and blend in brown sugar, salt, corn syrup, and vanilla. Beat in eggs by hand until well blended.

  Stir in pecans. Pour into pastry-lined nine-inch pie pan. Bake forty-five minutes or until filling is set.

  © 2002 C.H. Admirand

  Apple Grove, Ohio:

  Population 597

  Apple Grove has always boasted that it’s a small town with big-town amenities. Some of the local hot spots are:

  Honey’s Hair Salon—Owned by Honey B. Harrington, who has weekly specials from cuts to coloring and likes to advertise the weekly special by changing her hair color every week. (She’s been trying to snag Sheriff Wallace’s attention for the last fifteen years, but he’s holding firmly on to his bachelorhood.)

  The Apple Grove Diner—Owned by Peggy and Katie McCormack, featuring Peggy’s Pastries.

  Bob’s Gas and Gears—Owned by Robert Stuart, former stock car driver who doubles as the mechanic.

  Murphy’s Market—Owned by the lovely widow Mary Murphy (who has her eye on Joseph Mulcahy—and he has his on her), where you can buy anything from soup to nuts—the metal kind—but it’s her free-range chickens that lay the best eggs in Licking County and have people driving for miles to buy them.

  Trudi’s Garden Center—Owned by eighty-year-old Trudi Philo, who likes to wear khaki jodhpurs and Wellingtons everywhere; she specializes in perennials and heirloom vegetables and flowers, and has been planting and caring for the flowers in the town square since she was in grade school, taking the job over from her grandmother Phoebe Philo when she passed the business on to her fifty years ago.

  The Apple Grove Public Library—Run by Beatrice Wallace, the sheriff’s sister—open three days a week!

  The Knitting Room—A thriving Internet business run by Apple Grove resident Melanie Culpepper, who had to close up her shop when she became pregnant with twins.

  Slater’s Mill—Built circa 1850, this converted mill and historic site is a favorite among locals both young and old. Famous for its charcoal-broiled burgers and crispy fries served in the first-floor family restaurant, it’s also been a favorite place for the younger set to congregate at the mile-long bar on the second floor.

  Chapter 1

  The sweet scent of wild roses filled the air as the late morning sun warmed the blossoms spilling over the arbor. Blackbirds trilled across the meadow as the bride walked toward her husband-to-be, careful not to trip on the long, white satin runner—the path reaching from her past to her future.

  Folding chairs fanned out on both sides of the bride’s backyard, enormous white tulle bows adorning every other one. When she passed by Megan Mulcahy, the bride reached for Meg’s hand and squeezed it before continuing. Tears filled Meg’s eyes as Edie reached the end of the satin walkway and turned so her father could lift the veil covering Edie’s face and press his lips to his daughter’s cheek before putting her hand in that of the man she would marry.

  Who would have thought Meg would be one of the last of her friends still single? If her life had followed her youthful plans, her name would have been the one up on Apple Grove’s water tower, Jimmy Van Orden would have been the man doing the asking, and she wouldn’t be sitting here wondering how different her life could have been.

  But life is full of twists and turns. Her mind drifted toward the last time Jimmy had come home for a couple of days. He’d wined and dined her and she’d been so sure that he was going to ask her to marry him—this time. But they’d had the discussion a long time ago; he wanted out of Apple Grove, and she didn’t want to live anywhere else. After replaying that horrible argument multiple times, they’d just let it drop and tried to enjoy each other’s company. She kept hoping that on one of his trips back he would change his mind and see how wonderful life here could be. When would she learn?

  Reverend Smith’s words rang out, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He paused to smile at the friends and family gathered to celebrate, and then at the couple. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Bill Stanton tilted Edie’s chin up and gently pressed his lips to hers.

  A collective sigh whispered through the crowd witnessing the loving touch between the bride and groom. Meg’s stomach ached, but she fought not to show it; her friend deserved all of the happiness she could get. This was Edie’s day, and Meg wouldn’t do anything to ruin it for her.

  “Did you ever see such a lovely bride?”

  Megan smiled at Mrs. Winter. “It’s been a long time since we had a wedding in Apple Grove.”

  The older woman patted Meg’s hand and soothed, “Never you mind about that Van Orden boy, Meg. The perfect man is waiting for you. Don’t give up hope.�
�

  Meg laughed. “I haven’t thought that way about Jimmy in years.” Liar. “I hear he’s doing well playing for the Bengals.”

  As expected, Mrs. Winter tut-tutted and patted Meg’s hand again. “Your eyes say far more than you realize.”

  Before Meg could contradict her, the woman moved on to speak to the McCormack sisters.

  “There now, Meg,” her father’s deep voice soothed the ache in her belly. “It’s time you forgot about Jimmy—”

  “I wasn’t thinking about him,” she insisted. A rumble in the distance made her heart freeze in her breast. She looked up at the lone cloud floating above her and then over at Reverend Smith. The Lord didn’t like it when Megan lied. “OK,” she admitted. “I might have been thinking about him.”

  Joseph Mulcahy pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “He isn’t the right man for you, even though I should probably thank him.”

  “Whatever for?” Meg asked.

  “He left, but you stayed and helped me keep the family business going. I don’t know that I could have done it if you had married him and moved away.”

  “I love you, Pop.”

  “I love you back, Meggie.” She loved the gruff sound of his voice and leaned into him as he put his arm around her. “Let’s pay our respects to the newlyweds, then go find your sisters and dig into the potluck buffet. I’m hoping for some of Slim’s barbecued ribs.”

  “You’ll get sauce on your tie,” she warned, smiling up at him.

  “That’s OK.” He grinned and pulled her toward the receiving line. “I hate ties.”

  Meg had to work hard to keep from laughing at the way her father was staring at the food-laden tables just behind the beaming couple. “Congratulations, Bill,” Meg said. “You do realize that you married the finest woman in Apple Grove, don’t you?”

  He smiled and pressed his lips to his wife’s cheek. “I’m a lucky man.”

  Edie laughed and pulled Meg in for a hug. “I’ll miss you most.”

  The words were like a hug she hadn’t realized she needed. “I still don’t understand why Bill couldn’t keep on working at the farm with his father.”

  “I’m not handy like you, Meg,” Bill said. “Besides,” he leaned close and asked, “do you really want me to drop my pants in front of God and everyone here just to show you—that wicked scar from my dad’s combine again?”

  “Oh,” her sister, Caitlin, cooed, moving to stand beside their father.

  “Can I see?” Grace, the youngest Mulcahy sister, asked, squeezing in next to Meg.

  Meg looked over at them and shook her head. “Bill is a newly married man and will not be mooning anyone but his lovely bride from here on in.”

  “Too bad.” Miss Trudi Philo shook her head as she waited in line to congratulate the newlyweds. “I was hoping for a peek, seeing as how I missed out on that particular harvest mooning.”

  Meg could not help but join in the good-natured laughter the sassy eighty-year-old’s comment incited.

  “Now, Miss Trudi,” Bill soothed. “I don’t want to make my wife jealous today of all days.”

  She agreed. “I expect to see your first offspring nine months from today, so you’d best get to it; I’m not getting any younger.”

  Meg looked around for her father and noticed Edie’s mother walking toward him. Mrs. Parrish linked her arm through Joe’s. “You poor man, don’t be shy,” she said as she led him toward the tables. “Just grab one of those plates and help yourself.”

  Meg and her sisters stood side by side watching as the Widow Murphy joined her father at the food table. The two had their heads together, looking awfully chummy, making Meg wonder if there was something going on between them. “Hey, guys… I think Mrs. Murphy’s flirting with Pop.”

  Cait and Grace turned as one to stare at their father and the dark-haired widow. Caitlin was the first to speak. “Maybe he’s placing an order for supplies; you know she takes pride in the fact that she carries everything from soup to nuts… the metal kind.”

  Meg frowned up at her sister. “Are you being facetious or just naive?”

  Caitlin shrugged. “Just giving Pop the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Besides,” Grace said, “I like seeing him smile.”

  Cait hooked her arm through Meg’s on one side, while Grace did the same on the other. “Give it a rest,” Caitlin said. “Pop deserves a little flirtation, just the same as you do.”

  Looking up at her willowy sisters, Meg wished that she too could have been born with just a smidge more of their father’s height. Knowing it was useless to wish for what you didn’t have, she sighed and said, “Yeah, but I’m not interested in a little flirtation.” Thunder rumbled in the distance and Meg fought the urge to make the sign of the cross as she looked up at that one cloud still hanging above them in the clear blue sky. “Maybe I could be interested, but not right now.”

  Her sisters were laughing as the three joined their father and Mrs. Murphy by the main dish table. “Check it out,” Grace said. “Mrs. Winter’s chicken marsala. Don’t you just love the way it melts in your mouth?”

  Caitlin nodded. “Her chicken is always so tender, but what about Mrs. Hawkins’s firehouse chili?” she asked as she handed plates to her sisters. “I love the way it heats up as it makes it way down to your stomach.”

  “Fire in the hole,” Meg quipped. She perused the dazzling array of food spread out before them, all the while keeping a discrete eye on their father… just in case he needed saving. Women were always trying to tempt Joe Mulcahy with their feminine wiles. “Jeez,” she whispered, leaning close to Caitlin. “The way she’s hanging on Pop, he’s gonna drip barbecue sauce all over his shirt and tie!”

  Caitlin reached across the table to grab a buttermilk biscuit and glanced at the couple. “I think Pop can handle her,” she said as she broke it open and slathered butter on both sides.

  Grace scooped up macaroni, tomato, and cheese casserole and wrinkled her nose. “We’ll just make sure to use a little bleach on his shirt and hang it outside tomorrow.”

  Meg smiled. “Mom always said the sun and a healthy dose of bleach helped get stubborn stains out.” Remembering tidbits of their mother’s advice always made her feel as if their mom were still close by.

  “Here,” Grace said, plopping a huge spoonful of the macaroni casserole onto Meg’s plate. “Your plate’s still empty.”

  “I was going to have the ribs first,” Meg grumbled. “I guess I can come back for seconds.”

  “Hello, girls.”

  The three looked up in time to see Joe and the Widow Murphy walking toward them from the other end of the table. “Hi, Mrs. Murphy,” the sisters said. “Hey, Pop.”

  As if he knew they were up to something, he stared at Meg first, then Cait, then Grace. “My three darling girls,” he said at last. “Don’t overeat; you want to save room for the cake the McCormack sisters baked.”

  Meg glanced at the dessert table and the three-tiered ivory confection covered with pink wild roses and agreed. “Did Peggy say if it was chocolate or vanilla? Edie wouldn’t tell me, said it was going to be a surprise.”

  Joe’s chuckle had them all smiling. “I can’t spill the beans,” he said with a glance at the Widow Murphy. “But it’s not vanilla and it’s not chocolate.”

  “What other kind of cake is there?” Meg asked.

  The widow laughed and Meg noticed the way her father was staring at Mrs. Murphy, as if he’d only just noticed something important. Meg shook her head; she’d have to sort through how she felt about that later.

  “It’s green,” Mrs. Murphy told her.

  Meg nodded. “Well, at least we know the color will be a surprise to the other guests.”

  Joe took another bite of his ribs and licked sauce from his thumb. “Jeez, Pop,” Grace sai
d, handing him a napkin. “You’re not supposed to lick your fingers in public.”

  He smiled at his youngest daughter. “So it’s OK to lick them at home?”

  Grace flushed a bright pink and Meg felt sorry for her. Moving to stand beside her sister, she frowned at their father. “Now, Pop. Don’t tease; you know Grace means well.”

  He agreed. “I know she does. Sorry, Gracie.” He and Mary Murphy moved off to wait for the cake to be sliced.

  “Come on,” Cait urged. “Let’s go see if we can get Peggy to tell us what flavor cake they baked.” She paused when Meg didn’t immediately follow along behind. “You coming, Meg?”

  Meg shook her head; she was watching the way Edie leaned into her husband. Cait and Grace headed to where the McCormack sisters were chatting with a group of young people. When her friend wrapped her arms around her new husband and kissed him, Meg looked away. “I guess I’ll never see my name on the water tower,” Meg whispered. “Or wear my mother’s wedding dress or kiss my new husband beneath swags of daisy chains and wild roses.”

  “Never you mind about that Van Orden boy,” Miss Trudi soothed, coming to stand beside her. “I happen to know of a very eligible bachelor who just moved to Apple Grove.”

  Meg didn’t want to be interested, but Miss Trudi had a way of speaking that drew you in. Just to be on the safe side, she grumbled, “I’m not interested.”

  Miss Trudi shook her finger in Meg’s face. “You’re too young to give up on men. There’s just something about making whoopee out under the stars that keeps a heart young, a mind sharp, and”—she leaned close to whisper in Meg’s ear—“your coochie ready to do the hoochie!”

  Meg nearly swallowed her tongue, trying not to picture the eighty-year-old in her birthday suit. “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind.”

  “You do that,” Miss Trudi told her. “And remember, you aren’t dead yet. There’s still time to snag your man.”

  “I don’t need a man,” Meg insisted. “And I don’t want to get married.”