Ready to Wed (29 page)

“Get a look at that,” whispered Sylvia as she nodded over to where Clara and Belle seemed to be having a private conversation behind the lilac bush. “Do you think Clara is asking Belle whether her intentions are honorable?”

Jane chuckled. “She’s probably giving Belle romantic advice. Or perhaps she’s setting up an appointment for a beauty consultation.”

Unfortunately, for Belle’s sake, they were both wrong. According to Ethel, who was always in the know, Clara was
simply informing Belle that Calvin had a serious girlfriend back home. He had even been thinking about proposing to her. Consequently, on Tuesday morning, it appeared that Belle’s last hopes of getting a man were completely dashed. And, as much as the sisters tried to cheer her, it seemed to be of no use. Not only that, but Wednesday afternoon, Belle learned that her offer to buy the McCullough house had been turned down. It seemed that someone had outbid her.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she told them all on Thursday morning. “I might as well give up and go home. I know when I’ve been beaten.”

“You might not want to be stuck in a town with so many disappointing memories. Perhaps it’s a blessing,” said Alice as she refilled Belle’s coffee cup.

Belle nodded sadly. She had come to breakfast wearing warm-ups and not a speck of makeup. Even her hair was not perfectly done as it usually was. Belle seemed so un-Belle-like that the sisters felt very sorry for her. The poor woman was clearly depressed.

“I don’t know about that,” said Ethel, mustering a positive tone. She had come by this morning to offer her condolences as much as to partake in Jane’s cinnamon rolls. “I think we need Belle in Acorn Hill. I know plenty of women who were looking forward to trying out your
beauty products, Belle. You can’t let them down just because you haven’t found the right man yet. You can’t give up so easily.”

“But the wedding,” said Belle. “It was supposed to be this weekend.”

“Maybe you had the date wrong,” suggested Louise.

“Y’all are so sweet trying to cheer me up,” said Belle. “But can’t you see it’s hopeless? I already called my folks and told them there would be no wedding.” She let out a little sob. “No wedding.”

“What about the flowers?” asked Jane as she suddenly imagined Wild Things buried in pink carnations and roses. “Did Craig already place an—”

“I called and canceled yesterday. He said it was okay.”

“And the cake?” asked Jane.

Belle nodded. “I called the Good Apple too. It’s all taken care of.” Belle was really starting to cry. “It was going to be such a … such a pretty cake too.”

Alice handed Belle a tissue, and Ethel stood and checked her watch. She patted Belle on the shoulder. “I’m sorry that I can’t stay and commiserate with you, dear, but I did promise to meet Lloyd for coffee.”

“It’s okay,” sniffed Belle. “I appreciate you coming by.”

Ethel looked sternly at her nieces. “Since I have to go, it’s up to you girls to make our Belle feel better.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alice. “I would be happy to stay with Belle, but I must go to work. It’s my half day.”

“Oh, don’t y’all worry about me.” Belle blew her nose loudly.

“And I must do books this morning,” said Louise.

Jane looked at their unhappy guest. Belle’s face was damp and pink from crying, and she reminded Jane of a wilted pink rose. “Maybe you’d like to join me in the kitchen, Belle,” suggested Jane. “We can visit while I clean up.”

Belle took in a quick, choppy breath and muttered a meek thanks as she followed Jane into the kitchen and sat down at the table with her coffee. Jane was trying to think of something, anything, to say that might cheer her up, but her mind was blank.

“I know I must seem like a shallow little fool to you, Jane. The way I’ve carried on, obsessing over every silly little detail of my wedding, my wedding that is never going to be. I’m sure y’all have enjoyed some good laughs at my expense. And I’ll be the first one to admit that I deserve it.”

“No, not at all.” Jane felt really bad.

“But I have come to at least one conclusion.”

“Yes?” Jane stopped rinsing a pot and looked at Belle.

“I know I was wrong to be so focused on all the trappings and trimmings of having the picture-perfect wedding.
I can only blame that on the fact that I have dreamed of that day since I was just a little gal.”

“That’s understandable, Belle. Most little girls have similar dreams.”

“But I think now that if I really did have a wedding, I would do it differently … not so much hoopla. Do you know what I mean?”

Jane nodded.

“And I think I would focus my energy on my husband instead of playing the role of queen for a day.”

“I think that sounds very sensible,” said Jane.

“That’s Belle for you. I figure it all out after the party’s over. I’m always a day late and a dollar short.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“I just feel so sorry that I’ve dragged all you good folks in Acorn Hill through my little drama. I think I should just pack up and head South.”

At that moment the phone rang, and Jane was thankful for the distraction. Without waiting for Louise, she ran and picked it up. “Grace Chapel Inn,” she said formally.

“This is Richard Watson,” said a male voice. “Is Miss Bannister there?”

Jane handed Belle the phone. “It’s for you,” she said, quietly identifying the caller. Jane hoped that it wasn’t more bad news.

Belle mustered a congenial hello, then listened quietly, her face completely devoid of expression. Finally, she said, “Well, I suppose I could do that. If you really think—Okay, I’ll be down in a little bit.” Then she hung up.

“What is it?” asked Jane.

“Richard wanted me to know that I could make another offer on the house. He said that I could go higher than the other bid and maybe get the house. Of course, the other buyer could go higher than my second offer.”

“Do you really want that house?” asked Jane. “I mean still?”

Belle shrugged.

“Do you want to remain in Acorn Hill even if you don’t get married?” asked Jane. Despite Ethel’s desire to keep her here, Jane was not convinced this was in Belle’s best interest. And, as much as Jane had first been uneasy about this woman, she sincerely cared about her now.

“I do like it here, Jane. Acorn Hill feels like home to me. More so than the place I grew up.”

“But do you like it well enough to reside here as a single woman?”

With tears still glistening in her eyes, Belle took in a deep breath then answered. “Yes. I do feel at home here, Jane. I really, truly do.”

“You are absolutely certain?”

“I am certain.” She gave a very firm nod. “Naturally, I would feel even more at home here if I were a married woman, but I will not let that stop me now.”

Jane smiled at her. “Well, that’s honest.”

“And I really do believe I want that adorable cottage, Jane. I just love every little thing about it. Even if I take your advice and don’t paint it pink. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No, I don’t. I think it’s a darling little house—pink or otherwise. Do you want me to go down to the real-estate office with you?”

Belle’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Yes, I do, Jane. Just give me a few minutes to clean up a bit. Not the whole nine yards, mind you, but I can at least put on some lipstick and run a comb through my hair.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
o Jane’s surprise, Belle was back downstairs in less than ten minutes. Her hair was combed and fluffed. She’d put on some makeup and changed into jeans topped with a crisp pink oxford shirt.

“Ready?” asked Jane as she reached for her car keys.

“Ready.” Belle seemed to be returning to her old cheerful self as they drove toward the real-estate office. Her optimism and hopefulness were returning. But, to Jane’s relief, there was no mention of weddings, husbands or dreams. Belle’s primary focus seemed to be fixed on getting that bungalow. And Jane was ready to back her all the way.

Richard, an energetic man in his forties, greeted them both warmly, escorting them to his private office and explaining about making a new offer in meticulous detail. Belle decided on her terms and signed the necessary papers. She and Jane were in the reception area saying good-bye to Richard when the phone in his office rang, and he excused himself to get it. As he left the room, a middle-aged woman and a lanky middle-aged, balding
man walked into the office. Jane recognized the woman from church but didn’t know the gentleman.

“Hi, Mrs. Wren,” said Jane, introducing her to Belle.

“You ladies have not met my cousin Larry Mitchell,” said Mrs. Wren. “He just retired from the post office in Pittsburgh and plans to open a small business here in Acorn Hill.”

“What sort of business?” Jane asked Larry politely.

He gave her a shy half smile, and his big brown eyes, which reminded her of a puppy’s, lit up. “A shoe store actually.”

“Oh, I simply adore shoes,” said Belle. “If there’s one thing a girl can never have too many of, it’s shoes. Now what sort of shoes do you plan to carry in your shoe store, Mr. Mitchell?”

“You can call me Larry.” He stood straighter. “I plan to sell sensible shoes. Comfortable shoes … shoes that are good for your feet.”

Belle frowned. “Well, I suppose that could catch on, with some people anyway.”

“After spending more than twenty years on my feet delivering mail,” he continued in an earnest tone, looking directly at Belle, “I believe that people can only be as happy as their feet.”

Belle’s eyebrow creased as she thought about what he had said, and then she nodded. “You know, Larry, as much as I hate to admit it, that does make sense. Goodness gracious,
my tootsies can be wailing something awful by the time I kick off a pretty pair of pumps.”

“You see?”

“I certainly do. I never really thought about it before, but I can get terribly grumpy after wearing high heels all day long.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you grumpy,” said Jane.

“That’s only because I hide it.”

Larry laughed. “Perhaps I’ll have a customer in you after all.”

Richard joined them. “I see you’ve all met.”

“Yes,” said Belle. “Larry was just telling us about his plans for a shoe store.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Jane asked Larry. “Are you looking at business property in town?”

Richard cleared his throat. “This is awkward,” he said, “but I might as well get it out into the open. Larry is the other party bidding on the McCullough house.”

“My house?” asked Belle with wide eyes.

“It’s not your house yet,” said Mrs. Wren indignantly.

“You’re the other bidder, Belle?” asked Larry. “Well, I’m sorry. Perhaps I should—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” said Mrs. Wren sharply. “It’s called free enterprise, Larry. You can bid on a house if you want to.”

“And if you really want it,” began Belle. “I could always cancel my off—”

“No,” said Larry quickly. “I can’t ask you to do that, Belle. Maybe I should cancel my—”

“Maybe no one wants the house,” said Mrs. Wren irritably. She turned to Richard. “This is certainly quite a fine kettle of fish.”

“I’m sure we can work this all out amicably,” he said. “This is awkward. I didn’t anticipate your coming in this morning.”

“Well, I think this was highly irregular,” said Mrs. Wren.

Richard tried to explain to Mrs. Wren that his obligation was to the seller, whom he represented. He had the duty to get the seller the best price he could. As Mrs. Wren began to go on about business ethics and business etiquette, Jane noticed that Larry and Belle were standing about a foot apart, talking quietly while staring into each other’s eyes in an infatuated manner.

“I have an idea,” said Jane. “Why don’t we let Belle and Larry settle this?” She nudged Richard. “Do you have someplace where they can sit down and talk about this alone?”

“Well, I suppose they could use my office.”

“Come on, you two,” said Jane as she led them toward Richard’s private office. “You can go right in there, make yourselves at home, and discuss the situation.” She smiled
at Larry, whose expression was a mixture of bewilderment and happy anticipation. “I’m sure you’ll discover that Belle is a kind and good-hearted young woman who wouldn’t take advantage of a soul.” Then she closed the door behind them.

“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Mrs. Wren.

“Oh, it’s okay.” Jane winked at the woman. “I have a feeling they can work this out on their own.”