The Secret Wedding Dress. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ remember, because it left an impression me. Lou said that what makes Briarwood so livable has to do with each resident practicing what she called ‘good neighbor policies.’”

      Sylvie and her sisters nodded, but Sylvie felt that her dad’s eyes rested the longest on her. As Chet shut her into his coupe, she pondered her reluctance to extend any kind of neighborliness to Joel Mercer. Her father’s admonition left her feeling guilty, and she hated the feeling.

      “Do you get bombarded like that all the time?” Chet asked as he backed out of the drive.

      Sylvie’s still-guilty gaze flashed to her companion. “Pardon?” Could this man read her mind?

      A sheepish expression crept over his face. “Dory simply would not let me wiggle out of coming to dinner tonight. She was even more persistent that I pick you up. I have to admit I expected you to be an ugly duckling.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “You’re so…not that…I can’t imagine why she’s selling you so hard. Are you the town’s scarlet woman or something?”

      Sylvie’s jaw dropped, then laughter bubbled up. “To my knowledge, that’s not a label anyone’s attached to me. But if I thought it’d discourage my well-meaning family and friends from setting me up with any Tom, Dick or Harry who still happens to be breathing, I’d start the rumor myself. Oh, sorry.” She covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to imply that you fell into the geriatric singles group. Some have, though.”

      “No offense taken. I have a mother and four sisters who can’t abide the notion of anyone walking through life except as a couple. Change that to read a male and female couple. I heard your comment earlier. The one about a man being divorced, widowed or openly gay. I am. Gay, but not openly. My family would never accept that, so it’s easier to sidestep their efforts to hook me up with some nice woman. I sort of wondered if you and I were in a similar boat.”

      Sylvie was awfully afraid she probably resembled the large-mouth bass often pulled from Whitaker Lake. “I, ah, no. I’m arrow-straight, really.” She felt her ears burn and studied the pan and the plate of cookies resting unsteadily on her lap.

      He winced. “Too bad from my perspective. I fancied I glimpsed a kindred spirit back there at your parents’. Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” he said stiffly. “No disrespect meant, but I sort of hoped maybe we could do a long-distance appearance-of-romance thing. Maybe string my folks and yours along.”

      Thinking Chet had gone out on a narrow limb, baring his soul to a virtual stranger, Sylvie relented and gave him something in return. “I was badly hurt by a man in New York, whom I loved and trusted, Chet. My family doesn’t understand why I can’t embrace what they want for me, which is marriage. You and I probably do share a similar angst when we’re placed in our families’ crosshairs.”

      Chet swung down her lane. He left his seat to open her door, but didn’t turn off the Mercedes’s engine. Assisting Sylvie out, he brushed a limp kiss over her cheek.

      “I wish you the best, Chet. For the record, if you come back to Briarwood, I will serve you that postponed nightcap.”

      “It’s a deal. Shall I walk you to your door, or do you plan to deliver those cookies to your nosy neighbor?”

      “Nosy?” Sylvie darted a quick glance at Mercer’s well-lit window. Maybe a curtain had dropped, or maybe the window was open and the fabric had been stirred by a breeze. She couldn’t tell.

      Chet shrugged. “I know our comings and goings are being observed.”

      “I think I’ll hold off delivering my mother’s offering until after I put on sweats and change back into the real me. Have a safe trip to Asheville.” She ran lightly up her drive. Sylvie didn’t know what made her do something so uncharacteristic then, but she turned and blew Chet a kiss. If Joel Mercer was spying, why not give him an eyeful?

      She set the cookies on top of her fridge and let Oscar out while she pulled on some comfortable sweats. Not five minutes after she’d tied her sneakers, all hell broke loose in her backyard. Tearing outside with flashlight in hand, she discovered her delinquent houseguest had once again treed Fluffy the cat. As if on cue, the back door across the fence banged open, and out charged a fire-breathing Joel Mercer.

      “I understand that beast doesn’t belong to you,” he shouted.

      “That’s right.” Sylvie was able, with difficulty, to hook Oscar’s leash to his collar.

      “How long will he be your guest? I can’t run out here every few hours to rescue our cat. Out of curiosity, do you have a city license to operate a kennel?”

      “Maybe that’s how it works in Atlanta, but for your information this is the country.”

      A deep, clearly irritated masculine voice floated out of the darkness. “Who said anything about Atlanta?”

      “Your daughter. Is there a reason you’d rather that didn’t get out? Oh, for Pete’s sake, Oscar, you won’t catch that cat, so quit barking.”

      The voice in the darkness drawled, “I suppose there’s no noise curfew in Briarwood, either?”

      “Next you’ll demand I run up a red flag whenever I let Oscar into my yard. He has a perfect right to run around and bark if he wants. He’s contained by my fence, after all.” She could sound put-upon, too.

      Her new neighbor might have bought into her self-righteous indignation had Oscar, the big lummox, not torn from her grasp, and in one plunge flattened a six-foot section of their joint wood fence. A fence that already sagged. For some time, Sylvie had meant to have her brother-in-law, the building contractor, check the posts. Since Oscar’s leash remained wrapped around her wrist, Sylvie found herself once again sprawled on her face in the dirt. It was a very unflattering pose. She was sorry she’d gone out of her way to make a point.

      Probably her worst humiliation came when she saw the cat leap from the tree into the dubious protection of her owner’s arms.

      Sylvie hadn’t untangled herself from the leash enough to rise. In a blur, a shadowy man suddenly loomed over her.

      “Are you hurt?”

      “My vanity,” she mumbled. Sylvie couldn’t get a hand under her, because Oscar lunged so hard at his leash. Brushing hair out of her eyes, she saw, among other things, that the dog had switched allegiances and was licking the face of her nemesis.

      “Sit,” Joel roared, and Oscar sat with a surprised little yelp. Then he dropped to his belly and his coal-dark eyes blinked adoringly up from a muff of white fur.

      “How did you manage that?” Sylvie asked as gentle hands assisted her to her feet. “He’s the only dog I groom and board who ignores my commands. But really, in spite of it all, Oscar’s a loveable oaf.”

      “He obviously knows you think so.” Joel recovered the flashlight that still shone across the fallen fence and thrust it into Sylvie’s hand. “I can’t see well enough to shore this up tonight. Can you corral Oscar in the house until daylight?”

      “Uh, sure.” She played the light over her broken fence. “It needed new posts. My fault. I’ll pay,” she said, and was surprised when her neighbor said they’d share the cost.

      TOWARD THE END of the week, around 11:00 a.m., Sylvie pinned the bodice of her best friend’s wedding СКАЧАТЬ