The Secret Wedding Dress. Roz Denny Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ Joel usually managed to keep his private life fairly tame. Making his life tamer still had been his one goal in moving to laid-back Briarwood, North Carolina, into the home he’d inherited from his great-aunt. That, and keeping Rianne from seeing her mother’s face splashed all over half the billboards in town because it confused and upset her. Joel didn’t begrudge Lynn her newly acquired high-powered TV anchor job. He did resent that she never made time to spend with their daughter.

      “Rianne, let Fluffy eat in peace. I need you to come upstairs and pick the bedroom you’d like. Then we’ll set up your bed.”

      The girl skipped up the curving staircase, landing hard on both feet at the top. “I never choosed my room in our ’partment.”

      “Choosed isn’t a word, honey. It’s chose. And you should say apartment.”

      “Why?” She slipped her hand in Joel’s.

      Answering his daughter’s endless whys had been his second-biggest challenge as single dad to a precocious child. The first, he discovered, was figuring out how to safely shuffle Rianne in and out of women’s public restrooms in restaurants, malls and parks. Now, that took charm and ingenuity. He always had to garner the aid of kind, elderly ladies; he’d learned to sense which faces to trust.

      “The rules about using the proper words will fall into place when your new first-grade teacher gives you word lists. I’ll help you study them.”

      “Daddy, the lady next door said I’ll like school here. She said she’s lived here her whole life, ‘cept for when she lived in New York City.”

      “She didn’t live in that house, Rianne. I knew the couple who lived there. Mr. Shea taught me how to fish in the lake I showed you. His wife, Mary, baked the best oatmeal-raisin cookies I’ve ever tasted. I can almost smell them even now. Okay, snooks, this is the yellow room. Across the hall, the other room is painted…violet, I guess. One of its walls is covered in flower wallpaper. We can change the paint color and pick out new paper, if you’d like.”

      “I like this room, Daddy. Oh, look, there’s a bench in the window. I can see Oscar playing in the lady’s yard.”

      Joel knelt on the bench and gazed down on his neighbor’s backyard. Given the amount of land attached to the Whitaker estate, he wondered why his great-uncle Harvey hadn’t picked a more secluded spot to build. “Considering the size of the neighbor’s dog and the way he scared poor Fluffy, I’d rather you stayed far away from that woman and her pet.”

      “Oscar’s not hers. She baby-sits him. She gives doggies baths and sometimes dogs stay with her, like I did at my baby-sitter’s the days when you worked late.”

      “Gr…eat!” Joel heaved out the word. “I see a dog run and kennels. Hmm. I wouldn’t have thought that would be a legal business inside the city limits.”

      “Why?”

      “Just because,” Joel said, eyeing the neighbor’s yard as the movers hauled in Rianne’s bed. He turned from the window with a frown. He’d always sworn he wouldn’t resort to answering his kids’ questions with just because. As a boy he’d had an inquisitive mind. His parents, who fought constantly, never gave straight answers. Their bitterness had led to their eventual breakup and to his estrangement from them. Which was another reason this house and Briarwood held such fond memories for him. Iva and her good friends, Bill and Mary Shea, had nothing but time to lavish on a lonely, neglected boy. Joel’s folks had finally split the year he’d turned fifteen. His dad, a career Army man, went on to a new duty station in Hawaii. He’d remarried ASAP, and his new wife had given birth to a son. Joel’s dad seemed to forget he had an older son from his first marriage. He retired in Hilo, so Joel had never met his stepbrother. And his mom had continued with her job in Atlanta until she, too, met and married a new man. Seventeen by then, Joel elected to stay behind. His high school teachers and counselors secured him an art scholarship, for which he’d always be grateful. As a lonely child, he’d coped with moving from one army base to the next by drawing funny caricatures of the people around him. His drawing ability, combined with observational skills and a dry wit made him a good living from the time he’d hired on to create political cartoons a decade ago, to now. After a few years, the paper had offered him his own, more lucrative, weekly strip, which went into syndication a while ago.

      “I’m going to have the movers bring in the posts for your bed, Rianne. How about if, after they go, you help me by handing over the bolts, nuts and wrenches I need? Then I’ll assemble my bed. After I finish that, I’ll fix us something to eat.”

      “What?”

      “Whatever I find in the first food box I open. Tomorrow, early, we’ll go grocery shopping.”

      Putting together beds soon became a chore that was next to impossible to complete. But by then, what to fix for supper was no longer an issue. Within minutes of the moving van’s departure, a steady stream of Briarwood matrons started bringing in so much food Joel was astonished—and wary. Especially after the first talkative stranger, a woman named Millie McDaniel, informed Joel that she owned the only hair salon in town, and he realized that along with casseroles came questions. Briarwood’s self-appointed welcoming committee was determined to find out the intimate details of his life. But ever since his very public divorce from a prominent newschaser, Joel had learned how to smile politely and say nothing personal.

      Seconds after he shut the door on a very persistent shopkeeper, Joel noticed his next-door neighbor striding down her lane. Where earlier she’d worn raggedy cutoffs, she now had on a floaty pink sundress. Joel hesitated just inside his door, juggling a layer cake in one hand and a macaroni-and-beef casserole in the other. Because she carried a covered metal pan, he assumed she was about to be his next inquisitor. Joel vacillated between meeting her head-on and pretending not to hear his doorbell.

      Instead of escaping, he edged out onto the porch, admiring the change a dress made in her appearance. A full skirt swished appealingly around her slender ankles. On one ankle he identified a circle of gemstones winking in the setting sun. A minute or so passed while he enumerated her other attributes. Then two things dawned on Joel. One, she’d noticed him ogling her. Two, she wasn’t going to his house. A car had pulled into her lane, and a spiffily dressed man emerged from the sleek black Mercedes coupe. He whipped open his passenger door and relieved the woman of her pan of goodies, then waited while she folded her full skirt inside the car. The man watched Joel, too.

      Joel had barely darted inside before the driver handed the pan to his passenger and bent to say something that made her glance toward Joel’s open door. He abruptly slammed it shut.

      Big deal! So, the country mouse had a boyfriend with a few bucks. It was just as well. Joel hadn’t come to Briarwood in search of dates. One mistake of the kind he’d made in marrying Lynn was all a man needed. Lynn had turned out to have a greater interest in skyrocketing to fame as a foreign correspondent, which had led to this new job as a high-profile TV anchor, than she’d ever had in staying in one place building a home with him.

      “That cake is lopsided, Daddy,” Rianne announced as Joel carried the last gift into the big, country-style kitchen. “It sorta looks like the one you made for my last birthday, ’cept that one had my fav’rite chocolate frosting.”

      A stab of something like nostalgia had struck Joel as he’d watched the couple drive off in the hot car, but it faded instantly. Bending, he swung his daughter into his arms for a hug. If he hadn’t met and married Lynn Severson, he wouldn’t have Rianne. She was the best thing in his life.

      “Can we eat the ’sketti the woman with the bright red СКАЧАТЬ