Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer

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      Chapter Three

      Grace nibbled on the tip of her fingernail as the mayor’s wife delivered a picnic basket to another smiling couple.

      The box social was the 1887 equivalent of a blind date, something she’d managed to avoid in spite of the efforts of well-meaning friends and coworkers. So why had she actually volunteered to participate?

      Probably because it had sounded like a fun way to kick off the celebration. But that was before her basket was the one the men would be bidding on.

      “We’re down to the last two, gentlemen.” Mayor Dodd’s gaze swept over the crowd as he held up a wicker hamper lined with pink-and-white checked gingham. “And I have to say, something in here smells mighty delicious.”

      “Is that one yours?” her friend Abby O’Halloran whispered.

      Grace could only nod as the butterflies in her stomach took flight.

      “Who will give me five dollars for this basket?” Mayor Dodd bellowed, his voice carrying through the park without the aid of a microphone. “I see your hand back there, mister.”

      Grace didn’t dare turn around and see who’d placed the first bid. Abby and Kate, however, had no qualms.

      “I can’t see who’s bidding,” Kate complained, stretching up on her tiptoes. “I need a stepladder.”

      “Or Alex,” Abby teased, referring to her older brother, who happened to be Kate’s fiancé.

      Grace groaned. “Just tell me when it’s over.”

      “Five dollars...ten. Do I hear fifteen? Fifteen dollars for this lovely basket and the company of the lovely lady who prepared it. Twenty! Do I hear twenty-five—”

      “Thirty dollars.”

      “Now you’re talking.” The mayor tucked a thumb inside his brocade vest and strutted across the stage as the crowd cheered, caught up in the friendly competition. “My wife tells me there’s one slice of peach pie in here, which means you’ll have to get close enough to share.”

      Abby nudged her. “That was smart.”

      “Smart had nothing to do with it,” Grace muttered. “I got hungry last night.”

      After returning home from that unexpected encounter with Cole, it had been pie or a pint of rocky road. She’d opted for the treat with a calorie count that didn’t cross over into the triple digits.

      “Thirty dollars—who will give me thirty-five?” Mayor Dodd’s eyes narrowed. “The money is for a good cause, gentlemen! New playground equipment for the park—”

      “Fifty dollars.”

      A second of absolute silence followed the bid. Even Kate was rendered momentarily speechless.

      “Fifty dollars. Going once—” Mayor Dodd slammed the gavel down as the crowd began to cheer. “Sold! For fifty dollars.”

      “That’s more than Quinn paid for mine.” Abby exchanged a grin with Kate.

      “Come up here and get your basket.” Mayor Dodd held it up like a trophy. “And your girl.”

      Grace wished the earth would open up and swallow her as she slowly made her way toward the stage.

      She’d heard a rumor that Tom Braddock had been bragging to everyone in their department that he was going to win her basket. Tom had asked her out several times over the past few years but Grace had politely declined, using the excuse that it wasn’t wise to date a coworker.

      It was safer than admitting the real reason.

      But Tom glared at her when she walked past, as if it was her fault that someone had outbid him.

      “Don’t be shy now, Grace,” the mayor boomed, twirling the end of his mustache. “It’s all in good fun, you know.”

      Grace tacked on a smile and looked around, ready to thank whoever had emptied his wallet for the new playground equipment.

      And her gaze locked with Cole’s. Everything else disappeared as they stared at each other.

      “Hi.”

      “Hi.” Grace’s lips shaped the word, but she wasn’t sure if she said it out loud.

      “I hope you don’t mind.” Cole flashed a crooked smile. The one that had had Grace’s heart spinning pirouettes when she’d been a naive teenager.

      “Mind?” she repeated. Because that smile stripped her of the ability to form a complete sentence, let alone a complete thought.

      Instead of answering, Cole held something up.

      A basket with a bright pink bow.

      “It looks like we’ll be having lunch together,” he said.

      Lunch.

      If only it were that simple, Grace thought with rising panic. But she wasn’t about to tell Cole that by bidding on her basket, he hadn’t simply agreed to spend an hour in her company. He was now her date for the square dance that evening and—Grace swallowed hard as another, more terrifying thought occurred to her—another event scheduled for the next day. One that would ruin any attempts Grace might have made to avoid Cole’s company.

      * * *

      “What СКАЧАТЬ