Wedding Belles (26 page)

Winnie’s nose wrinkled and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you want to know the real reason I went to Denver, Lottie?”

“Of course.”

“It wasn’t to meet men, though I was certainly open to that idea. It was…” She sighed. “To get away from my life here. To get away from what folks expected of me.”

“What they expected of you?”

“I’m convinced Mama wanted to shape me into her image,” Winnie said with a shrug. “And I very nearly let her. She wanted a high-society daughter, one who would marry a well-to-do man. And I thought I could go along with her plans.” She lowered her voice again. “Have you ever just had enough?”

“Have I?” Lottie fought the laughter that threatened to betray her. “Yes, Winnie, I’ve reached my limit—with people and with things. And I certainly understand what you mean when you say you didn’t like being pressed into someone else’s mold. I’m convinced—” She fought for the words. “In spite of everything, I still believe that God has great plans for our lives. If I mess up, He’s capable of—of…”

“Readjusting the plan?” Winnie grinned. “Well, speaking of that, it’s another reason I came in here before going down to breakfast. I have the perfect solution for the situation with Thad Baker.”

“You do?”

“Well, sure. He’s only going to be in a town for a few days, so we’ll have to move quickly. But I think we need to pair him up with one of the ladies from the lodge. He looks like the marrying sort, don’t you think?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Lottie said. “We’re already facing a mess because the fellas tried to plot a little matchmaking. We don’t dare start with an attorney, of all people. Why, his aunt would have a conniption if she found out.”

Winnie tapped her lips with her index finger, clearly lost in her thoughts. “I was thinking about Margaret Linden. She would make the perfect lawyer’s wife, don’t you think?” She gave Lottie a wink. “It’s an ideal situation for both. She’ll get the big, fancy house, and he’ll get a society woman with a nice wardrobe who will look perfect on his arm at charity events and such.”

Lottie had to admit, the idea did hold some merit. Still, she couldn’t think about such things right now. After all, Thad Baker had come to town to represent the opposing side. He was probably passing that petition of his around town even now.

“You just let me do what I do best.” Winnie giggled, clearly oblivious to Lottie’s inner turmoil. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s snag a fella.” A sigh followed. “Of course, keeping them is a little tougher, but I’m going to get better with that over time. I can feel it.”

From downstairs, Mama’s voice rang out, laced with anger.

“You going down there?” Lottie asked.

Winnie sighed. “Guess we have no choice.”

Together, they made the descent into the dining room, where they found their mother pacing. She pointed her index finger at Lottie. “I blame you for this.”

Great. Someone else blaming something on me.

Lottie gazed at her mother and sighed. “What is it, Mama?”

“You and that—that pie kitchen. You had to go and do it, didn’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Enter my recipe.”

“W–what? Mama, I—”

Lottie’s father cleared his throat. “Dorothy, before you say another word, you need to know that I did it, not Lottie. She didn’t even know about it.”

“You—you what?”

“I entered the strawberry pie in the contest and it won. The Sanders’ Strawberry has received a place of honor behind the glass case at Parker’s Pie Parlor. Isn’t that exciting?”

Mother looked as if she might burst. “Harold, how could you? You’ve subjected me to shame and ridicule from the other ladies at the league. I’ll never be president now.”

“Shame? How could it be shameful? Did you not hear what I said, woman? Your pie was chosen. Everyone in town will see our family name on the wall at the pie parlor.”

“Yes, that’s the problem. Everyone in town will see, and they will all think that I submitted it. I’m going right over to that lodge and demand they remove it at once.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Lottie gazed back and forth between her parents, wondering how this would end.

“They have no legal right. I didn’t submit that recipe. It’s been stolen from me.”

“Dorothy, think carefully about what you’re doing.”

“I am thinking. I’m thinking that they’ve taken my recipe— a private family recipe—and used it to their own advantage to raise money for that brothel of theirs. What they’ve done is illegal.”

“No.” He stepped in front of her, a firm look on his face. “What
I’ve
done is perfectly legal.”

“We’ll just see what Thad Baker has to say about that.”

“He will say that you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

This certainly piqued Lottie’s interest.

“What do you mean?” Her mother dropped into a chair.

“I mean, you can fuss and fume all you like, but there will be no lawsuit over that pie. Would you like to know why?” He walked across the room and took his seat at the head of the table. “Because it was never your recipe to begin with. It was my mother’s.”

Lottie couldn’t help but notice that Mama’s face paled.

“Merciful heavens. I’d forgotten.”

“Well, I hadn’t. It’s been my favorite pie since childhood. And the Sanders name is my mother’s name—a name I’d like to see honored, now that she’s no longer with us. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like for folks in town to know that Sanders’ Strawberry Pie is the featured pie of the week at the lodge. And I would appreciate it if you would call off those hounds who might try to ruin my fun.”

The room grew silent. Well, silent until Winnie knocked over the pitcher of cream and Becky came in to clean up the mess.

Lottie plopped down in a chair, overwhelmed. With so many other real-life messes to tend to, a glass of spilled milk seemed small in comparison.

TWENTY

R
EVENGE IN THE
R
OCKIES

Friends, are you ready to be swept away to worlds yet unknown? Ready to travel to the highest heights? When you attend the upcoming theatrical at Parker Lodge, our set design will transport you to parts of the globe you have only imagined. You’ll be amazed at the intricate handiwork and the exquisite paint colors. Our hats are off to Chauncy James, local woodworker, who designed and crafted most of the set pieces, including the backdrop of mountains. They are so lifelike, you can almost sense the weight of the clouds settling in around them. Speaking of clouds, there’s been a heavy fog over our area of town for some time now. We’re praying it lifts soon. In the meantime, we continue to lift our eyes unto the hills. —
Your friends at Parker Lodge

J
UST TWO WEEKS BEFORE
the debut of the melodrama—which Lottie had taken to calling
Revenge in the Rockies—
she made a decision to take the ladies back to the mountains for the day. They could all use a break from their labors, and she felt sure the beauty of their surroundings would invigorate them and put things into perspective. It would provide the necessary respite from their heavy load and get them away from the men for a while.

Well, all the men but Gil. She needed him to get them there, after all. This time the journey up the mountain on the trailer was made in near silence. Traveling without Jeb and the other fellas wasn’t as much fun, but Lottie didn’t mind. Keeping their distance from the men would serve the ladies well, at least for now.

They arrived midmorning at Longs Peak, and she felt herself breathing more evenly. Hopefully the ladies would sense the peacefulness of the place and begin to let go of some of their bitterness toward the men.

They quickly set up a picnic spot. Cornelia turned around in circles, her eyes wide as she gazed at the mountains in the distance.

“This scenery. It’s…magnificent.” Grace’s eyes misted over. “The colors here are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I’m not sure why they move me like they do, but the blue sky, the green grass, the white snow on the sandy-colored mountains—it’s breathtaking. Makes me wish I could paint. Only, I’m not sure I could recreate the colors. And I certainly couldn’t capture the majesty of all of this. The mountains are…” She shook her head. “There really are no words to describe them.”

Lottie stared at the clouds, which hung low over the mountain peaks. “I know, because I’ve tried for years. You should read my journal. I’ve tried to write poems about the mountains, but they fall short every time.”

“I’d love to see them anyway. I’ll bet they’re much better than you think.” Grace gave Lottie an admiring look. “Don’t sell yourself short, Lottie. Promise me?”

“I—I won’t.” She hardly knew what to say next, so instead of speaking she turned her gaze to the mountain and fought to hold back the tears that threatened to erupt.

“I said it that first day we came to the mountains for a picnic… .” Cornelia’s voice trailed off to a whisper. “I can almost
feel
God when I’m here.” She turned to face Lottie, tears covering her lashes. “Isn’t that odd? I mean, there’s no church, no steeple, no stained-glass windows. But God is as close—maybe closer—than ever.” She brushed away a tear and shrugged.

“That’s not silly at all.” Lottie placed her hand on Cornelia’s arm. “We’re always drawn to things of beauty, and what’s better than God’s creation? It’s grander than any man-made building. And I think the reason we sense His nearness in the mountains is because they’re so majestic. When we look at them, we realize that only God could have created something so—so…”

“Incredible?” Cornelia said.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Incredible. I like to think that God reached down with His fingertip and created the canyons and valleys then folded His palm to pull the mountains into place.”

“What a fascinating image.” Cornelia’s eyes misted over. “I guess I never took the time to think about where the mountains came from.”

A familiar Scripture flitted through Lottie’s mind, one she’d memorized as a child. She spoke the words aloud: “ ‘For, lo, he that formeth the mountains, and createth the wind, and declareth unto man what is his thought, that maketh the morning darkness, and treadeth upon the high places of the earth, the Lord, the God of hosts, is his name.’ ”

“Lottie, that’s beautiful.” Grace whispered the last few words then turned her gaze back to the hills.

Lottie’s thoughts drifted to her childhood, to the many times she’d quoted that Scripture. “It’s a verse from the book of Amos, in the Old Testament. It’s always been dear to me.”

“It’s perfect.” Cornelia’s damp eyes now sparkled. “It makes me wonder what took me so long to consider the fact that there is a God…at all.”

“He’s there all right. And He’s a magnificent Creator, isn’t He?” Lottie sighed. “That’s how we know we can trust Him. If He took the time to create such a lovely backdrop for our lives, I have to believe He cares about the very details of our lives as well.”

Cornelia sighed. “I’ve tried so hard to create a good life for myself and yet…” She shrugged. “Things don’t always work out like I hope they will. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten my hopes up and then had them dashed. It happens all the time in theater. And in love too.” She gave a little shrug.

“That’s where trust comes in, I suppose.”

“I guess.” Cornelia took a few steps across the field, holding up her hem as she stepped across a tiny stream of water. “Until I came here, the only mountains in my life were the obstacles…the things that got in my way. Seemed like I faced them at every turn.”

“The Bible says you can speak to those mountains and they have to move.”

Cornelia gave her a funny look. “Speak to the mountains? What does that mean?”

“It means those obstacles in your life don’t have to be obstacles. If you have enough faith, you can speak to them and they will move.”

“Interesting.” Cornelia turned to face the nearest peak and hollered, “Get out of my way, mountain!” which brought a handful of the other ladies running.

“What’s all the ruckus over here?” Fanny asked. “Thought maybe someone fell in the creek.”

“No.” Cornelia smiled. “Just yelling at mountains.”

“Hollering at the mountains, eh?” Fanny grinned. “Are they echoing back?” She slapped herself on the knee and laughed.

Lottie did her best not to roll her eyes. Instead, she focused on the group and smiled. “Ladies, before we have lunch, I want to show you something. I’m going to take you for a walk to the edge of Longs Peak so we can look down on the most beautiful sight in the world.”

Prudy shook her head. “You ladies go on without me. I’ll just stay here and set up.”

“But why?” Lottie asked. “It won’t be the same without you.”

Prudy busied herself setting up a picnic area. She opened the basket and pulled out the quilt, which she unfolded and placed on the ground. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t make myself do it.”

“Whyever not?” Lottie put her hand on Prudy’s arm.

“Because I’ve always been terrified of heights.” Prudy visibly trembled. “In fact, I’ve always been terrified…period.”

“Where does that fear come from?” Fanny asked.

Prudy settled onto the blanket then put her hand over her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up at them. “I think…” She paused and her gaze shifted downward. “I think it goes back to my childhood. I was raised in such a poor home. My father died when I was three, and my poor mama…” Prudy dabbed at her eyes and grew silent.

Grace settled onto the quilt next to her.

“You’ve never a met a woman more gripped with fear,” Prudy whispered. “She always anticipated the worst, and in the end, well…”

“What happened?” Grace asked, her voice filled with tenderness.

“In the end she took her own life.”

Lottie gasped. She dropped to her knees next to her friend. “Oh, Prudy. You poor thing.” She threw her arms around the young woman’s neck, unable to hold back her tears. In spite of everything she’d been through with Mama, she couldn’t imagine losing her. Not for a moment. Why, the very idea made her heart feel as heavy as lead. How ever had Prudy endured such a devastating blow?

“You precious girl.” Fanny eased her way down and joined the circle. Before long, all the ladies sat together on the quilt.