The door bumped her, and a uniformed waiter with a tray on his shoulder excused himself so he could get by.
She stepped aside, trapped against the wall.
“There you are.” Lauren appeared at her side, and she jumped. “Where did you go? Is Scott with you?”
Emily continued to watch Paul. “He’s around here somewhere.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
She lifted a discreet finger and pointed toward the advancing couple.
“Oh, dear.” Lauren moved closer to her. “Just keep your cool. He’s not here to report about you. He’s here for the auction. Even brought his wife, right?”
“Reporters tend to get their stories wherever they can.”
“Right.” Scott joined them and took Emily’s hand. “But you don’t have anything to worry about anymore. He’s moved on, remember?”
Scott’s touch, more than his words, fortified her, and she planted on a smile as Paul and Amber greeted them. At least she hoped it was a smile. Her face felt frozen into something more resembling a grimace.
Paul shook hands with Scott and offered a smile that included both Emily and Lauren. “Looks like you two ladies pulled off the event of the year. Everyone is having a great time and spending enough to bring in a serious chunk o’ change for the arson victims.”
“I’ve already spent more than I intended,” Amber said. “But it’s for a good cause, right?”
“It is,” Lauren said. “What did you buy?”
“Someone donated some costume jewelry to be sold in one lot.”
Emily tried to listen to Amber’s bidding victory but couldn’t help stealing glimpses of Paul.
He caught her looking and stepped closer with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “How’s Millie? I haven’t seen her around lately.”
Scott tightened his hold on her hand—or was she the one with the vice grip? Either way, it helped. Emily raised her chin a notch. “She’s gone. We’re not likely to see her again.”
“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could’ve met her. She seemed to be quite an adventurous little lady.” He gave her a pointed look, which seemed to convey that her secret was safe now. “If you do see her, tell her we miss her around here. Too many cats are wandering around downtown now that she’s gone. We need her back at work.”
Amber stopped her conversation with Lauren and turned to Emily. “I’ve been wanting to adopt a cat from The Litter Box, but every time I go by these days, the place seems closed. I do hope Millie hasn’t gone out of business for good.”
“She’s gone?” Lauren looked disappointed. “I never got to meet her.”
“You will.” Scott slipped his arm around Emily. “She’ll be back.”
Paul nodded at her, gave her an honest smile. A quiet assurance that Millie’s identity was safe, and probably the closest thing to an apology Emily would ever get from him. She offered a tentative smile in return. The man had kept her secrets and joined her church. Peace between them would make life much easier.
Roger joined them with his hands full of cream-filled pastries. “Have you guys tried these? They’re great.”
“You’re going up another belt size in a single day if you don’t quit.” Lauren rubbed a dab of cheese from the corner of his lip. She grinned at the others. “He hasn’t passed a single tray he could resist.”
The auctioneer called the next item for bid. “Cakes by Rita. Everyone here knows the quality of Rita Barlow’s cakes—and if you don’t, where were you when she served up the one she donated for today’s activities?” After the crowd’s laughter settled, the auctioneer opened the bid. “Let’s start at five hundred, a cheap bid for a great cake.”
“Five hundred.”
“Five-fifty.”
The bidding climbed higher and higher with each paddle shoved into the air. The auctioneer’s call echoed around the room, and Emily’s blood pressure spiked as the bid soared over a thousand.
A paddle shot up with the shout “Fifteen hundred,” and the crowd hushed. Everyone turned to see the bidder, but another grabbed their attention with a shouted bid of two thousand.
Rita and Micah made their way to Scott’s side as the bids continued to climb at five hundred dollar increments.
“Well, I never. Never in my born days!” Flushed with excitement, Rita fanned herself with her placard. “Can you believe how much these people are willing to pay for a little ol’ cake?”
“Not just any cake, Rita.” Micah beamed. “Now you know what the rest of us have known for a long time. You’re the best baker in all of East Texas.”
“Now, go on with you.” She swatted his shoulder with her fan, but her grin broadened.
The gavel finally landed on fifty-five hundred, and Scott let out a whoop. He hugged his mother and then held her at arm’s length. “Are you crying?”
She sniffed and swiped her tears. “I feel like I’ve actually made a worthy contribution. Like my work counts for something.”
“It always has, Mom.”
Emily watched the two of them, with Micah still beaming like a beacon next to Rita, and felt a wave of wistfulness. She missed her parents and loved Scott’s mom and her future husband as if they were her own.
If he’d ever get around to proposing, maybe she could call them her parents, too.
43
Emily ran her hand along the smooth surface of her new countertop. The gentle pearl gray soapstone perfectly complimented what she’d done with her Queen Anne kitchen. Instead of aiming for the dark, rich tones often found in Victorian homes, she’d opted for sunnier, warm colors.
The cabinets and drawers sported a soft peach tone and acrylic pulls made to look like crystal. The salmon-colored walls contrasted with the cabinets, and another touch of peach on the baseboards, crown molding, and door and window frames served as the perfect accent.
Add the brushed stainless-steel appliances, the pecan-stained wood floor, and the sink’s tile back-splash adorned with a painting of a dogwood limb, and the effect was perfect. With the glow of November sunlight filtering through the windows, the place felt homey, like an English country kitchen.
The bulk of her current installment on the sale of Deck the Walls went to pay Roger and his crew, and she’d be living with a tight wallet for a while until her next installment, but the house was finally functional enough for her to move in. The bathrooms, while not remodeled, at least worked, and a good scrubbing had done them a world of good. The electrician had changed out the wiring in October, so she no longer feared burning the house down, and Roger had shored up the balcony outside her bedroom. With some plants, a table, and a couple of chairs up there, she’d be ready to wave at Scott as he headed into town from his clinic.
The parlor was all but finished. Just last week, she’d dressed the windows with the new drapes she had designed, and the only thing missing was the furniture she still made monthly payments on. As much as she would love to just pay it off and bring it home, she had to resist or she wouldn’t have much money left to live on for the next six months. But once she moved her comfy furniture from her apartment into her house, she’d be all set. At least she’d have something to sleep on in the bedroom and a cozy couch and TV in the den.
She took a few more minutes to look around, to daydream over her plans for the dining room, and then locked the house and headed for home. She had a wedding to get to. The November day held clear skies and moderate temperatures, perfect for the pot-luck reception on the church’s picnic grounds. The late-afternoon wedding and the promise of a beautiful sunset during the reception filled Emily with a sigh of romance. When it was her turn, she wanted to get married on a day just like this one.
****
The skirt rustled on Emily’s tea-length sapphire-blue dress as she hurried through the foyer to the closed sanctuary doors. Opening one just a crack, she peeked in at the murmuring wedding guests and at Micah and Scott on the dais, both looking suave in their dark suits. The pews were adorned with sky
blue ribbons and white-flocked pine cones with sprigs of needles. Simple, but elegant. Perfect for a winter wedding.
Emily had thought Scott would give his mother away, but for reasons of her own, Rita chose to walk down the aisle without him. Micah had asked him to be his best man, since his son Ezra would be performing the ceremony. He stood on the dais with them, a taller, thinner version of his father. With the exception of Emily, the whole wedding was a family affair, and she had felt like she didn’t belong.
Rita had “poshed” her protests, though. “You’ll be family soon enough.”
Emily rushed back to the dressing room and reported her findings to the bride. “You’ve got a full house out there. It won’t be long.”
“So many people?” Rita fidgeted with the delicate lace on her ice-blue cocktail dress. “You’d think they’d find something better to do on a Saturday afternoon.”
Emily gave her a hug, careful not to muss her hair. “You are so loved. Of course everyone wants to be here for you. For both of you.”
The music changed in the sanctuary, and one of Rita’s friends waved to her. “It’s time.”
In a flurry of nerves, Rita sought out her bouquet of white roses and then came to a stop before the mirror. “I feel jittery as a young bride.”
“There’s reason for that,” Emily said. “You are a young bride.”
“Oh, posh!” She patted her hair and nodded at her reflection. “Might as well do this, what with Micah waitin’ and all.”
Emily grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Might as well do this.”
She escorted Rita to the entry into the sanctuary, took a moment to compose herself, and then nodded at the two young men who stood there now to attend the doors. They drew back the doors, and Emily stood framed in the opening. The look on Scott’s face when he saw her made her feel as though she was the bride, and she felt herself blushing like one. To the slow, easy beat of an instrumental song she didn’t recognize and barely heard, Emily walked down the aisle, momentarily the center of attention—but hers was focused on Scott.
She took her place on the first step of the dais, gave a subtle wink to Micah, and turned to watch Rita’s grand entry. As she stepped into view, Micah whistled softly.
“She’s a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
“You’re one lucky man, Pop.” Ezra whispered back. He leaned toward his father’s ear. “She’s a keeper."
Rita didn’t glide down the aisle like a dreamy-eyed bride. Her step held purpose, in keeping with her personality. But her focus remained on Micah, and her smile radiated sunshine throughout the room. When at last she reached the dais, Micah helped her up the two steps. Once she settled beside him, he folded her hand on his arm and gently covered it with his own. He gave a nod to his son. “Better get started before she changes her mind.”
****
Rising to her knees on the familiar blanket Lauren had spread on the grass for the reception picnic, Emily caught sight of Scott coming from the back of the church. As he strode toward her, he gave her a cross-eyed look, and she knew exactly what he meant. So many wedding pictures. The fact that either of them could even see surprised her. Still, having been asked to pose with the family left her with a warm sense of belonging.
With the hand holding his ham sandwich, Roger waved Scott over. “C’mon. Loosen the tie on that monkey suit and relax. The good ladies of the congregation concocted quite a feast for your mama and the preacher man.”
With a wink at Lauren, Scott asked Roger, “Did your wife cook?”
Lauren swatted at him. “Yes, I did. I made chicken lasagna, and you’d better eat some.”
“Yeah, you’d better get you a taste,” Roger said. “It’s not too bad. But to make sure you don’t go hungry”—he pointed toward the far end of the service tables—“Karen’s stuff is over there.”
This time, Lauren swatted at Roger—and connected.
Scott offered a hand to Emily. “Care to join me?”
Still laughing at their antics, Emily let Scott pull her up and then smoothed her dress. A cocktail formal wasn’t exactly the best dress for dinner on a picnic blanket, so she was glad they’d be taking their plates to the table set up for the wedding party. As they walked to the buffet line, she asked, “Did Rita ever tell you where they were going on their honeymoon?”
“No, they’re keeping that secret behind tight lips. But knowing Micah, he probably talked her into a fishing trip somewhere.”
Emily laughed. “Somehow I just can’t see it.”
“Don’t sell Mom short. Who do you think taught me to fish?”
Just beyond the banquet tables, some of the church’s musicians had assembled with their instruments, prepared to play for the evening dance.
Scott nodded toward the makeshift dance floor. “How about a waltz later?”
“How about several waltzes?” Even though she’d enjoyed the pleasure of his arms almost daily since they’d made up, the thought of having them around her as they danced in the cool evening air made her nerves tingle with anticipation.
As they made their way through the line, the happy couple appeared at the back door. Those nearest started a wave of applause that ripped throughout the picnic grounds and escorted them to their table. Rita blushed, Micah waved, and they both beamed with the happiness expected from newlyweds.
And Scott teared up.
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Emily smiled.
“Me? I didn’t cry. Not crying now—just a delayed reaction to the flashes during the photo session.”
“Uh-huh.” In spite of her doubting tone, she grew tenderhearted toward this man who loved his mother as much as he did. He’d make a great father, a wonderful family man.
After dinner, a round of toasts were made with blue Dixie cups filled with sweet iced tea. The couple cut the cake—the one Rita baked because, as she’d said, she wasn’t going to “pay no five thousand dollars for someone else to do what I can do for fifty.” Lights flashed as candid photos were shot with disposable cameras. Jokes and stories about Rita and Micah caused roars of laughter. All this wedding romance made Emily want to rush Scott into proposing. She gave her head a little shake. He’d do it in his own time.
The band started to play, and Micah extended a hand to his bride. They swept out to the dance floor and waltzed with slightly arthritic hitches to their steps but beautifully just the same.
Scott escorted Emily to the floor, and the two danced until Scott tapped Micah’s shoulder, and they changed partners. Emily stepped into Micah’s beefy embrace and received a warm smile as he danced with the music.
“You’ll be next, you know,” he said. “I hope you’ll let me perform the ceremony.”
“Now, stop that. He hasn’t even proposed, and I was just telling myself not to rush.” She winked. “But when he does, I wouldn’t have anyone else perform the ceremony but you.”
Between dancing with Scott and laughing with Lauren and Roger and all her other new friends from church, Emily was stunned to find the evening had drifted away on gossamer wings.
The boys from the youth group brought Micah’s vehicle around for the couple to make their exit. They’d scrawled “Preacher’s got a Bride” along the sides and “Just Married” across the back, and tied two groups of a half dozen balloons each onto the rear bumper. The sober black vehicle had morphed into a carnival truck. A line of celebrants holding tiny bags of birdseed formed between the couple and their getaway vehicle.
Micah laughed as he held out his arm for Rita. “Well, my love, ready to run the gauntlet?”
She turned to Scott and held him for a few moments and then giggled and joined Micah in the closest thing to a mad dash a couple their age could achieve.
“I feel like I’m seeing my kids off.” Scott stood behind Emily and circled his arms around her waist. “It’s so good to see her happy.”
She leaned against him. “It is good. They make a terrific couple.”
“Um-hmm. So do we.�
�
Rita turned from the passenger door to toss her bouquet into the crowd. As it flew into the air and the young ladies scrambled to catch it, she climbed into the truck, then waved out the window as they drove away.
After a few moments of silence, Scott sighed. “Let’s see if we can get another dance or two in before we have to start cleaning up the place.”
He cued the band for a slow dance and eased her into a one-step across the dance floor.
After everyone had grabbed their pot-luck dishes and left, Roger and Lauren joined Scott and Emily, and the four of them filled trash bags until the church picnic area was spotless.
Roger dropped an arm across Scott’s shoulders. “Lauren told me it’d be rude to ask, but I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony. When are y’all getting married?”
“Roger.” Lauren’s mouth gaped in mortification.
“Well, doncha think it’s time?”
Emily’s pulse quickened as a flush crawled up Scott’s neck. She hated that Roger had pressured him, but she couldn’t wait to hear his response.
“I don’t believe you.” Lauren glared at Roger. “He’ll propose when he’s good and ready and probably at Zabaglione’s or someplace nice. Not standing in the church parking lot with the two of us staring at them.” She turned to Scott. “Isn’t that right?”
“Well, the truth of the matter is—”
“I just wanted to know what’s taking him so long,” Roger said. “Seems to me, they oughta be engaged by now.”
Emily glanced from one to the other. Scott had started to say something, but he never finished, and with Lauren and Roger going at it, he probably wouldn’t. He caught her eye and shrugged. She smiled. What else could she do? She couldn’t yank the rest of his sentence from him. But as Lauren fussed at Roger for not having the sense God gave a turnip, Scott eased to Emily’s side and slipped his hand in his pocket. He withdrew a tiny box and held it in the palm of his hand as he searched her face.
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