Just when Grace was opening her mouth to ask, Maria cut her off with a waggle at Grace’s all important ring finger. “Tell me. You two figure out a date for this thing yet? You haven’t seen nothing until you see a wedding in Hamlet. Forget about a guest list, sweetie. You’ll have the whole town turning out for it.”
Grace gulped. In his own sheepish way, Rick warned her of the same thing after she accepted his proposal so readily. To his credit, he offered to elope, but Grace didn’t want to rob the town of the chance to celebrate him. Besides, if they came back and were married, they would piss off all the locals.
No wonder Lucas was a little leery of returning to Hamlet with Tessa. It was common knowledge around the village that he ran off after the widowed outsider—in the time since she’d been accepted by the locals, she heard all of the gossip—but only a handful of locals were aware that they did eventually elope.
Grace knew that, when the time came, she would have to get married in Hamlet. Still, she wasn’t in a rush to be married just yet. The memory of coming to and discovering she was wearing a wedding gown was too fresh in her mind. Only the fact that it was Rick who wanted to marry her had her agreeing. But just because she said yes, that didn’t mean they had to run straight for the altar.
Then again, she might have to change her mind. Yesterday, she was all for waiting. But that was yesterday. Now? Things were very different.
“We, uh… we’re not sure when yet. But soon.”
“Well, Grace, amica, I hope so. I remember, when my brother married his first wife, no one in Hamlet gave them a minute’s peace until they finally walked down the aisle. Then, while Cait still had her veil on, the gossips started the betting pool for when the first baby would be born.” A pause. A way too obvious, way too telling pause. “You wouldn’t want to give me a hint about that, hmm?”
Grace choked, and quickly forced out a small laugh in a futile attempt to cover it up. “You’ll be one of the first to know. Promise.”
&
nbsp; Maria lifted her head up, peering closely at Grace. A mischievous smile suddenly appeared on her pretty face. “I’ll make sure to put my money down sooner rather than later, I think,” she mused.
“Anyway,” Grace said, trying to change the subject as smoothly as possible. At the trill of Maria’s high-pitched laughter, she knew she failed. Determined, she still pushed on. “I stopped by for a reason. Do you think I can borrow one of your paints? And a brush, too, if that’s okay.”
“Si. Of course. Any color? I have plenty of different ones.” She gestured to the closed cans that littered the tabletop. “If you don’t like any of these, I have tons more in the closet.”
Running her gaze over the cans, she chose a soft green one. “Is this one okay? Do you need it right now?”
“Nope. Just need the pink and the white to finish up this sign and I’ll be set.”
“So I can take it with me?”
Maria nodded. “Go right ahead.” She reached into the pile of clean paint brushes off to her side. “What size?”
“Um. Medium?”
Offering it to her, Maria said, “Do I want to know what you’re doing with these?”
Grace thought of the way Maria focused as she painted Ophelia’s name, the dedication and the care she gave to even the shortest of strokes. If she gave even half the care to creating the welcome sign, she wouldn’t be too happy with what Grace had in mind.
Well, she amended as she thought of Maria’s telling pause from before, coming first in the betting pool might go a long way with keeping her friend happy.
With a grin, Grace accepted the brush. “Probably not,” she admitted cheerfully.
Maria sighed. “Non la pensavo così. Didn’t think so.”
Grace was relieved to find that Rick hadn’t moved one inch in the hour she’d been gone.
He was sprawled on his back, his mouth hanging open, snoring away like a chainsaw. He still had on his boots, though he managed to remove his belt, his radio, and his loaded gun before he passed out on the bed.
Sidling close to the edge, she watched him sleep for a minute before reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind his ear. She ran her pointer finger down the length of his cheek, then his jaw, caressing him sweetly. When she reached his chin, she took a deep breath, yanked her hand back, lowered it a bit, then jabbed him in the side.
Grace waited until he jerked awake to ask innocently, “You up, babe?”
“Tiger? Is everything alright? What’s going on?”
His voice usually sounded like he gargled with gravel. Now that it was even rougher from sleep, Grace had to stop herself from climbing into bed with him. Later, she told herself. First, she had something she had to do.
“Everything’s fine. Promise.”
“Okay,” Rick said. She could hear the lure of sleep in his tone as he closed his eyes and started to roll over.