The Secret Wedding Dress. Roz Denny Fox

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Chapter Two

      Across town at her parents’ home, Sylvie divided the time before dinner between sidestepping the issue of her new neighbor, and avoiding too much chumminess with the man her sister, Dory, had sent to collect her. Where did her family dig up these guys? Chet Bellamy’s company had apparently sold Dory’s insurance agency a new computer system, and he was in town for a week to see that it got up and running. Thank heaven the man had no desire to leave his thriving business in Asheville. And as he’d said he was on the road a lot, Sylvie couldn’t really begrudge him this one evening in the company of her lively family.

      Dory and Carline, twenty-five and twenty-four respectively, cornered their older sister in the rambling family kitchen.

      Carline, eight and a half months pregnant and always focused on food lately, snitched several slices of cheese from a platter Sylvie was arranging. “I can’t believe you sat and watched brand-new people move into the Whitaker place and don’t have a thing to say about them.”

      Sylvie slapped her sister’s hand as she polished off the two pieces of cheese she’d taken and reached for more. “Mom asked me to fix this to take out on the porch as an appetizer. If you keep grabbing everything I cut, Carline, the tray will look like a mouse got into it.”

      Dory cut a chunk of pepper jack for herself and nibbled on it. “Jane Bateman passed the word at our insurance agency. She’d gone to the post office at noon and saw the moving truck, and knew they turned down Blackberry Road. She figured out they were headed to Iva’s. I left work late, or I’d have gone by there with something from my freezer they can reheat in a microwave. I wonder if the Mercers play bridge,” she said, glancing at her sisters. “Peggy at the post office told Jane that’s their name, Mercer. Peggy said their mail’s being transferred from Atlanta. City people are more likely to play bridge, don’t you think?” she asked hopefully.

      Sylvie bumped against the refrigerator as she moved around the counter. The dull ache reminded her of her earlier fall from the tree. “They have at least one child, a little girl. And a cat,” she added in afterthought.

      “A girl? Great,” Dory said, suddenly smiling. “How old? Kendra’s age, I hope. They could play together when Kendra stays with you.”

      “This child, Rianne’s her name, is probably a year or so older than Kendra. She asked me about the school here. I’d say she’s in first or second grade.” Sylvie looked out and saw her niece and nephew playing on the swing set outside. Kendra was an advanced four, and Roy a sturdy, delightful toddler.

      “What did the girl have to say about her parents?” Carline asked, levering herself up on one of the stools that ringed the kitchen counter.

      “Nothing much.” Sylvie picked up the platter and prepared to go out to the porch where the men stood talking to her parents, Nan and Rob, as Sylvie’s dad tossed steaks on a built-in barbecue. “She gave their names. You already know her dad’s Joel. I believe she called her mother Lynn. I only saw him briefly, hauling luggage from his vehicle. I never caught sight of the wife.”

      “Maybe she stayed behind to tidy up the house they sold in Atlanta.” Carline helped herself to a small cluster of grapes even as Sylvie tried to lift the plate out of her reach.

      Stopping at the door, Sylvie turned. “That’s something else the girl mentioned. She said her cat’s only ever lived in an apartment.” Sylvie was again reminded of her tumble from the neighbor’s tree as she nudged open the screen with her hip.

      “Gosh,” Carline exclaimed, pausing with a grape raised to her mouth. “Maybe there is no Mrs. Mercer. I mean, if they lived in a city high-rise…”

      Sylvie recognized the expression that passed between her sisters. Their dedication in matching her up with some—any—unattached male always shone like a thousand-watt lightbulb. “Stop right there! It’s not too likely that a divorced guy with one kid would buy a home the size of the Whitakers’. Especially not in a backwater like Briarwood. Where’s the future for him?”

      Dory pounced immediately. “Who said Mercer’s divorced? Did his daughter say that?”

      Sylvie noticed the look again, and rolled her eyes. “Get this straight once and for all, you two. Capital N, capital O in foot-high letters. Whether he’s divorced, widowed, never married or openly gay, you will not shove me in his direction, is that patently clear?”

      “Openly gay?” the sisters chorused with laughter that was cut off when Sylvie banged the screen door.

      Her neighbor’s name didn’t surface again during the meal, for which Sylvie was thankful. But as she and Chet prepared to leave, Nan Shea set a big plate of chocolate chip cookies on the pan Sylvie had brought a molded Jell-O salad in. “What are the cookies for?” Sylvie turned in surprise.

      “Do you mind running them over to your new neighbors? I can’t because tomorrow and the next are my days to volunteer at the library. Chocolate chip cookies are so much better eaten fresh.”

      A refusal rose to the tip of Sylvie’s tongue. Knowing her mom, she’d rearrange her entire day to deliver the cookies herself if Sylvie didn’t. Besides, Sylvie recalled Rianne Mercer’s tear-streaked face. If anything would lift a homesick kid’s spirits, it’d be chocolate chip cookies. “Okay, Mom…if Mercer’s still up unpacking boxes when Chet drops me off, I’ll bring the cookies over tonight.”

      Dory tried unsuccessfully to pull the plate from Sylvie’s hands as she signaled her mom with an eyebrow. “I’ll take them to Mr. Mercer in the morning, and add something from Grant and me. Mother, I’m sure Sylvie was planning to offer Chet a nightcap, weren’t you, Sylvie?”

      “Actually, no,” she shot back, bestowing her most practiced smile on her escort. “I heard Chet tell Daddy he wanted to get an early start tomorrow for his drive back to Asheville. I wouldn’t dream of keeping him up late. Maybe next time he’s in town…” She let the suggestion linger, hoping against hope that she’d also heard Chet say he’d completed his company’s project in Briarwood.

      To the man’s credit, he seemed to catch on to the fact that he hadn’t elevated Sylvie’s heart rate.

      “Sylvie’s right, Dory,” Chet said quickly. “I intend to be on the road by 6:00 a.m.”

      “One drink, you two. How long would that take? Unless…” Dory pouted prettily, her meaning made plenty clear.

      Sylvie opened the door and hurried out, but not before murmuring tightly, “Dory, honestly! Give me a break.” Sylvie knew that few could pout like Dory. She had it down to a science. So much so, her husband, Grant, bless his heart, chuckled and playfully clapped a hand over her mouth.

      Pausing at the gate, Sylvie thought СКАЧАТЬ