Mail Order Bride: Fall (Bride For All Seasons 3)

Settled again, with murmurs of appreciation from her guests at each forkful, Camellia asked about Letitia, who had sat remarkably quiet throughout the festivities. “And what is happening with you and your suitor, dear? Are you getting along well?”

The question, and the concern behind it, caught Letty unaware. The sip of coffee she’d been in the process of swallowing went down the wrong way, and she engaged in a healthy spate of coughing before, red-faced, she could answer.

“The relationship,” came the reply, at last, “is on hiatus.”

Camellia exchanged a surprised glance with Hannah. “Hiatus? Dare I ask why, Letty?”

“You may ask. I prefer not to discuss it right now.”

“Oh,” said Camellia, baffled and a little hurt by what seemed a rebuff. “Well, of course. Whenever you’re ready. Um. More cake, anyone?”

Within the next hour, the women had cleared the table and were washing, drying, and putting away all the hot, clean dishes. The kitchen was restored to its usual orderly state: towels rinsed and hung out to dry; cloth brushed free of crumbs, floor swept, everything returned to where it should be.

While the

work was going on, the males had settled like a herd of overstuffed water buffalo onto the parlor chairs and divan, much more comfortable than those formerly occupied around the table. The ladies, chores finished to their satisfaction, joined the group for small talk, specks and spots offered sleepily, in between an occasional yawn.

“We need a nightcap,” Ben decided, rising. “Who’s for a small snort of whiskey?”

Molly, already ensconced on a padded footstool at her beloved’s knee, looked up with her trademark dimpled grin. “None for me, thanks. That lovely fruit wine is about all that I can manage. Just where did you procure that, Letty?”

“At Ben’s mercantile,” she responded simply, as if it were to be expected. “He’s actually stocked a goodly supply of wine. And I was just in the mood for it.”

“Huh. I noticed you were lickin’ your chops after every glassful.” The doctor just had to get in his own opinion. “Does that mean you plan on gettin’ so sloshed that somebody’ll have to pour you into your bed tonight?”

“Now, Gabe.” Across the short intervening distance she slanted him an inscrutable look. “I wouldn’t be of much use to you tomorrow, were I to be fighting the plague of a hangover, would I?”

“Bless my buttons, no. But I reckon everyone is entitled to fall off their pedestal now and then.”

“More’n you realize,” muttered Paul.

Clearly, due to an absence of perfect timing, only he and Molly were privy to information about the dustup that had occurred between this newest courting couple. He wasn’t about to spill the beans, not until Letty herself was ready to confide in the others. This tentative separation was her news, after all; he had no business sharing it.

Ben, waiting patiently for the thread of discussion to end, shifted from one foot to the other. “Ahuh. Do I hear anybody acceptin’?”

Two, from both the doctor and the sheriff; the ladies, some still sipping the wine, others well past, declined. Camellia shifted uneasily in her chair. “Ben, dear, didn’t you and the boys consume quite a lot of strong drink before supper?”

“Aw, shucks, honey. One drink each, that’s all. The bottle was almost an old soldier, anyway. Gotta go uncork a fresh ’un.”

Ben had just disappeared into his library when a knock came at the front door.

What now, when the family party was soon to be breaking break up? Letty, seated nearest, sighed and decided to perform the familiar task. Entranceway open, she squinted into the dimness.

“Oh!”

“Letitia,” acknowledged Reese Barclay in a stiff, formal tone.

“What are you—I mean...Why are you—”

He was standing hipshot at the threshold, Stetson in hand, brows quirked. “I heard your relatives had gotten back from their trip,” he said quietly. “I stopped over, hopin’ I might come in.”

“Who is it, Letty?” Camellia, surprised by the lengthy pause, called out.

Taking up her skirts, she stepped aside and bid him enter.

“Why, it’s her young man,” Gabe realized. “H’lo, there, Reese.”

His greeting sounded much friendlier than Paul’s, which was cool, and Molly’s, which was decidedly hostile. In fact, Paul was already on his feet and moving to Letitia’s side, as if to guard against any untoward antagonism from the unexpected visitor. Hannah, who was as ignorant as Camellia about what had transpired during the last several days, could only glance from one to the other with curiosity and a sense of odd, rising tension.