Twice a Bride (36 page)

Mr. Sinclair lifted the corner of the lid on the fried chicken and licked his lips.

“Not a single bite until the picnic,” Miss Hattie groused with a grin teasing her face.

He pretended to reach into the pan. Miss Hattie shifted the tablecloths and swatted at his hand. Mr. Sinclair and Cherise laughed. Cherise peeked into the bread sack, sniffed, and pretended to take a bite.

Miss Hattie wagged her finger at the child, then looked at Mr. Sinclair. “What a fine influence you are.” Her smile defied the mock sternness in her voice.

“She can’t catch both of us, Cherise,” Mr. Sinclair said.

“But I’ll catch you, Harlan Sinclair.” Miss Hattie’s face flushed. “I know precisely how many pieces of chicken I cooked, and every last one of them better be there when the picnic begins.”

The three of them were already more of a family than some families, and they belonged together. There was no doubt in Willow’s mind Mr. Sinclair loved Hattie. Did he not know it?

The church kitchen door was propped open. Ida looked at Willow from the stove. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m short two workers.”

Willow set her pies on the table next to a cake and smiled at her sister-in-law. “I do like to be needed. I understand why Vivian’s not here yet, with the twins to care for, but where are Kat and Nell?”

Ida looked at her father. “Morgan telephoned after you left the house. Kat’s baby is on its way. Nell went to be with her.”

“More babies to bounce on your knee.” Miss Hattie sounded farther away than the stool in the corner. “That’s wonderful.”

“It is wonderful,” Mr. Sinclair said, “but my girls are making a nervous wreck of me.”

“Two babies again?” Cherise’s eyes shone like black diamonds.

Miss Hattie squeezed the child’s shoulders like a mama would. “We do like babies, don’t we?”

Cherise nodded. “I like holding them.”

Mr. Sinclair smiled at Hattie. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ll leave you to guard my chicken while I go find a couple of my sons-in-law.”

Willow’s heart told her Trenton would be in the sanctuary this morning. She’d rather go find him, but it looked like she’d be helping her sister-in-law until the service started.

Trenton drove his buckboard to the First Congregational Church Sunday morning. After their talk yesterday, Tucker said he was welcome to store his photography equipment in the reverend’s office until the picnic.

As the familiar steeple came into view, an unfamiliar anticipation stirred inside Trenton. For the first time in his life, he felt drawn to attend church and truly ready for something more in his life.

Willow seemed ready too. She’d cared enough about him to show him her painting and share her story.

At the hitching rail, he pulled his tripod off the floor of the wagon.

“Trenton Van Der Veer?” An unfamiliar man’s voice drew closer.

Trenton turned toward a warm smile. “Yes. Trenton.” He shifted the tripod and shook the man’s hand.

“Judson Archer.” Clean-shaven, he wore trousers and a dress shirt. “I’m one of Tucker Raines’s brothers-in-law.”

“Yes, one of the men in the Wednesday morning Bible study.”

“That’s right, and if you’re thinkin’ about marryin’ Willow, you’re welcome to join us.”

Trenton’s mouth went dry. Tucker hadn’t mentioned any prerequisites.

Judson’s laugh was as easy as his smile. “I was teasing. Tucker said you were coming today, that you could probably use a little help.” He took the tripod from Trenton and glanced at the wagon. “Anything else?”

Trenton pulled the camera and the box of glass plates off the wagon floor. “I’ll grab these. Thanks.” He followed Judson up the steps and through the foyer, searching for Willow in the gathering crowd.

“Tucker says you’re new in town,” Judson said.

“About three months now.”

As Judson turned down a hallway, he spoke over his shoulder. “Good to have you here—in town and at the church.” The man with the permanent smile tapped on a closed door. “It’s Judson and Trenton, the photographer.”

“Trenton.” Tucker’s voice was welcoming. “Come in.”

Tucker and a dark-haired man in a black leather vest rose from armchairs. Trenton recognized the second man as Cripple Creek’s chief at the police department.

“I didn’t m-mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t.” Tucker shook Trenton’s hand. “We meet for prayer every Sunday morning, and we just finished. Glad you came.” He glanced toward the table. “You can set your things back there. I’ll lock my office, and we can come get ’em before the picnic.”

“Sounds good.”

Tucker turned to the dark-haired man. “Carter, I’d like you to meet my friend Trenton Van Der Veer, Cripple Creek’s new photographer.”

Trenton shook Carter’s hand. “You’re the police chief.”

Tucker slapped Carter’s back. “And father to a fresh set of twin girls.”

“Congratulations.” Carter Alwyn had the
something more
Trenton was feeling ready for—a family. With Willow.

“Thanks.” Carter lifted a steaming cup off the desk. “I’ve seen your shop on First Street.”

“Stop in next time,” Trenton said. “I keep hot coffee on the stove too.”

Carter tugged the points on his vest. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Tucker looked from Carter to Judson. “These two are part of Willow’s extended family—they both married Sinclair sisters. My third brother-in-law, Dr. Morgan Cutshaw, is home pacing the floor while his wife delivers their second baby.” Tucker lifted his Bible from the desk and looked at Trenton. “Guess we better get in there before our women come looking for us.”

Trenton liked the sound of that.

After the church service, Willow carried her two pies to the tables the men had arranged for the picnic. Walking beside her, Ida held Hattie’s pan of fried chicken.

“Do you want the desserts anywhere in particular?” Willow asked.

Ida breathed what Willow recognized as a thinking breath. “On that far end, perhaps?” She pointed to the table closest to the sycamore tree.

Willow nodded and carried the pies to the last table. She, Ida, Vivian, Cherise, Hattie, and Etta Ondersma, among other women, were setting out the lunch. They’d already carried out the table settings. Tucker had announced that they would first satisfy their bellies, then gather for the camera.

Etta was right behind them with a big basket of her sourdough rolls. She studied Willow’s pies. “Apple?”

“Yes. My specialty.” According to Sam, anyway. She was anxious to find out if Trenton agreed.

Etta’s gaze swept the three food tables and the growing bounty. “Everything looks delicious.”

Willow nodded, making room for the pineapple upside-down cake Vivian carried toward them, but her mind wasn’t focused on lunch. She watched as Trenton started up the hillock with his tripod and camera bag. He’d not only come to the church this morning but joined the congregation in the sanctuary. She was already seated beside Ida and her family when Trenton walked in with Tucker, Carter, and Judson, looking relaxed and happy to be there, and sat on the aisle next to Judson.

She was anxious to talk to him about what had happened yesterday with Susanna and with Tucker, but he was here to do a job and needed to set up for the church photograph. This wasn’t the time or place. If he’d shared anything about Susanna with Tucker, her brother hadn’t said. But before Tucker went to his office this morning for prayer, he did mention Trenton’s visit to the church yesterday afternoon and that her employer had placed his faith in Christ. Her own heart was still soaring and praising God for answered prayer.

“He’s a good man.”

Willow turned toward Vivian. “He is.”

“And it looks to me …” Vivian paused as she studied Willow’s face. “I’d say you’ve changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind?”

“The day of my wedding last year, you said you’d had your turn at love.”

She remembered. “Yes, the memory of Sam was still too fresh.”

“And now?”

“I may have changed my mind.” She held Vivian’s brown-eyed gaze. “Any word from Nell on the baby?”

“Not yet, ye lady of diversion.”

Willow offered her honorary sister a coy grin and curtsied before starting back to the church kitchen for another load of food. She knew who she’d choose for a second chance at love, but it wasn’t up to her. After Trenton’s troubles with Susanna Woods, she wouldn’t blame him for shying away from opening his heart again.

H
attie spread the remaining pieces of chicken on the platter. Harlan had taken two thighs when he first filled his plate and come back for seconds. She smiled, remembering her conversation with Boney on Monday. She’d told Boney that after one bite of Etta’s sourdough bread rolls at the picnic, he’d be in love. He’d laughed and told her she ought to make sure Harlan got a big dose of her fried chicken.

She’d done her part. Cooked up five fryers. The rest was up to Harlan.

A little boy returned for another slice of her honey-wheat bread, and she patted his head. After she cleaned up a couple spills on her tablecloth, she stole another look at Harlan. The dapper father of the Sinclair sisters sat cross-legged on a blanket under a sycamore tree, surrounded by his family. Hope wiggled on his lap, her giggles traveling on the slight breeze. Vivian sat beside him, holding one of the twins. Ida held the other twin, while Cherise rolled a ball with William.

Etta Ondersma approached and fussed with a couple of salad bowls. Concern fanned the lines that framed her hazel eyes. “You and Boney have been friends for a lot of years. Are you sure you don’t mind that he and I are seeing each other? I would’ve told you, but Boney wanted to tell you himself.”

Hattie removed an empty salad dish from the serving table. “I think it’s wonderful. Unless you plan to tell me I can’t see my friend.”

Etta smiled. “I have no intention of breaking up any friendships.” She stirred a potato salad and straightened a bread basket. “As a matter of fact …”
She glanced at the Sinclair family. “I’m hoping the four of us can go out to supper sometime.”

Hattie sighed. “You, my friend, are suffering from a bad case of wishful thinking.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He can’t seem to get enough of your fried chicken. He’d probably come back for more if you weren’t watching him so closely.”

“I’m not.”

Etta creased her brow.

“All right. I am,” Hattie said.

“And you’re not alone. Whenever you’re not looking at him, he’s stealing a glance at you.”

“He isn’t.”

“You know he is.”

Hattie resisted the impulse to look at Harlan. “We’re a couple of old widows behaving like schoolgirls.”

“Fun, isn’t it?”

It’d be more fun if Harlan Sinclair loved her.

“Hattie, you were so right about Vivian. She’s a wonderful designer. Business has more than doubled since she opened the shop here.” Etta brushed a graying tuft of blond hair from her cheek. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it doubles again when she starts taking those adorable babies to the shop.”

“You know I’ll be there,” Hattie said. Vivian’s mother would have been so proud of her. Hattie certainly was. “All four of the Sinclair sisters are hard working.”

“And talented. Just this week I read Kat’s most recent article in
Harper’s Bazar
. A mesmerizing story about our very own Doc Susie.”