A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “So, I like seeing you home.”

  Deliberately, she kept her gaze forward. No way did she want him to see how much his words affected her.

  “Besides, Tricia, I wanted to get out of there.”

  “You did?”

  “Oh, jah. You saw how crazy my haus was.” He shivered, making her grin. “All those little girls running around? William going crazy? Furniture and boxes and my daed acting like it was gonna be perfectly possible to organize it all in about six hours? I needed a break.”

  She giggled. “Your daed did act like he was going to have everything organized in no time.”

  Ben nodded. “That’s his way.” He shook his head in exasperation. “He’s not a big fan of sitting around. Sometimes I think he resents having to sleep.”

  “Perhaps I should point out that we were just sitting outside eating sandwiches for the last hour. I thought it was a lot of fun.”

  “That was fun. That was great. Thank goodness for Emma Keim. If she hadn’t come along with her girls and that picnic basket I don’t think my daed would have let us stop yet.”

  “Emma is really nice. And boy, can she cook. Almost as good as my aunt Beverly, and that is saying a lot.”

  “Especially those deviled eggs. I could have eaten five of them,” he said as he pressed a hand on her waist to guide her around a pair of tourists taking pictures of some flowering orange-blossom trees.

  When they got back on track, the delicious fragrance of the blossoms permeating the air, and warmth from his touch still fresh in her mind, Tricia glanced up at him again. “Emma’s girls are cute, too,” she added, hoping to keep her focus on their conversation and not on just how happy she was to be spending more time alone with him. From the moment she’d practically run into him in the hall outside his room at the inn, there had been a connection between them that was special. It seemed as if they always had things to tell each other.

  She was so glad God had brought them together.

  He chuckled. “Jah. They were girly and busy and squealed a lot. I’ve never really been around little girls that much and I don’t think I could handle being around them all the time, but I thought they were mighty cute. Especially little Annie. She was a lot of fun.”

  “She liked you. She kept edging closer to ya.”

  “I was glad. She’s funny, telling me about her beagle, Frankie.”

  As they passed a large family with six or seven kinner, Tricia noticed how both parents looked kind of exhausted, like they were counting the minutes until bedtime. Which got her thinking. “Why do you think Emma and her girls came over?”

  Ben looked down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Emma went to a lot of trouble.”

  “They were simply being neighborly.”

  “Jah, but your family is not in her neighborhood. Your farm is a ten-minute SCAT ride away. She had to load up all the food and keep track of three little girls all the way to your haus.”

  As they turned down Burky Street and began to pass house after house framed by bright flower beds, Ben seemed to consider her words. Then he shrugged. “I think you’re overthinking things, Tricia. Emma brought us a welcome meal. I bet she brings lots of families food all the time. Plus, you know, her dog ate our pizza the other day.”

  “Well, I’ve lived here in Pinecraft a few months now and I’ve never seen her do too much besides be with her girls. And chase Frankie, of course.”

  Ben didn’t even smile at her mention of Frankie. “I’m sure Emma was only being nice.”

  “Of course,” Tricia said quickly, though she didn’t really believe that. She’d seen how Emma kept glancing at Ben’s daed. And how Jay’s eyes had softened when Emma smiled, and then how hard he’d tried to hide it. “I’m sure they’re simply glad to meet each other because they have a lot in common.”

  Ben stopped right in front of Winnie Sadler’s house. Mrs. Sadler’s cat, Serena, looked up from her nap on the front porch, then flipped onto her side. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you think they like each other?”

  “Maybe,” she hedged. Though she thought the idea of Jay and Emma liking each other was rather sweet, it was now obvious that Ben didn’t care for the idea. At all.

  “Tricia, my father is a widower,” he said.

  “I know.” She shrugged. “I only meant that I think it’s nice that they met each other, since Emma is a widow and all.” She bit her lip. Had that come out completely wrong? Had she just made it sound as if she thought it was good that Jay and Emma had lost their spouses?

  “You know, my mamm only passed away a year and a half ago.” Ben looked so appalled and his voice so pained, that Tricia wished she could navigate a conversation as well as she could the shuttle stops.

  Feeling worse than terrible, she backtracked quickly. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I’ve been really insensitive,” she said in a rush. Here she’d been so thankful for their connection and the way they were able to converse about most anything, and she’d ruined it by saying too much. “Please forgive me. And forget I said anything, too. Actually, let’s forget everything I said.”

  Reaching out, he pressed his palm to the center of her back. “Hush, Trish,” he said gently. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for snapping at you. You were only speaking your mind.”

  She sighed in relief as she realized that he wasn’t mad at her. She hadn’t messed everything up.

  “Nee, I was being silly. Again, I’m really sorry. I’m sure your daed and Emma are just friends. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Actually, there’s everything good about that.” Ack! She was talking too much. She had to stop herself from blabbering on about things she knew little about.

  Ben sighed. “You’re right. There isn’t anything wrong with my father making a friend. I mean, look at us.”

  Tricia forced herself to smile brightly. After all, she had practically brought this on. “Jah, look at us! We hit it off right away.”

  She ached to tell him just how glad she was that they were friends, but she didn’t want to scare him off. Then, of course, there was the fact that she didn’t want to simply be friends with Ben Hilty. She already knew for a fact that she liked him a lot.

  “We did—well, we ran into each other right away.”

  “Hey, I had a whole lot of towels stacked in my arms. I could hardly see where I was going.”

  “But that didn’t stop you from walking down the hall like your feet were on fire.” He chuckled. “The moment we collided, they all fell in a heap at your feet.”

  “And you helped me pick them all up . . . and place them in the linen closet.”

  “I was using any excuse to be around you a little longer.”

  “And I was glad you did,” she admitted. She’d relived those first few moments between them a hundred times. It had been like she’d known something momentous had just taken place.

  Ben pressed his hand to her waist again as they turned left toward the inn, passing right by the Palm Grove Mennonite Church with the beautiful flowering tree gracing its front yard. “I’m glad we met, Tricia.”

  “Me, too.”

  “My grandmommi always used to tell me that the Lord shines on us even when we aren’t looking for his rays of light. I guess that’s what happened when we met. I wasn’t looking for anything special but there you were, at our inn.”

  “The Lord does know everything we need,” she said with a smile.

  “You know, I never thought about my daed being lonely, but maybe he does get lonely every now and then,” he said slowly. After a pause, he continued, sounding more reflective. “Mark and me, well, we don’t spend a lot of time with him. Not anymore.”

  “At least he has William.”

  Ben shook his head. “William is a handful. Managing him takes the patience of a saint. If I were my father, I would want a break from my little bruder every now and then.”

  “I’m sure your father misses your mamm.”

  “I’m sure he does. My m
other . . . she was great.” He looked at her again. “Let’s not talk about my parents anymore.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  When he looked down at her this time, there was a new, mischievous look in his eyes. “How about we talk about when I’m going to get to see you again.”

  She bit her lip before deciding not to play any games. “I want to see you whenever you have time to see me.”

  “It’s as easy as that?”

  “Well, as easy as a SCAT ride,” she teased. “And, as long as I am not working.”

  “I’ll see if I can pick up William from school sometimes in the afternoon.”

  “If you do that, stop by the inn and say hello. Or maybe I’ll see you at church? Here in Pinecraft, because of all the tourists, we all go to the Amish church instead of worshipping in other people’s homes. Maybe we could meet there one Sunday? I mean, if you’d like to meet there.”

  “I’d like that,” he said as they stopped in front of the inn. “I’ll be seeing you, Tricia. Count on it.”

  She smiled at him before walking up the steps. “I already am,” she murmured to herself.

  FOR THE REST OF the night, Tricia replayed their conversation over and over, reflecting on how fast things between her and Ben were happening . . . and how she didn’t want it to be any other way.

  Chapter 7

  The inn was half empty.

  As Beverly Overholt scooped up the last of the Hilty boys’ sheets, she knew that she should be breathing a huge sigh of relief. The boys had been well-behaved and mannerly, but they’d still been boys stuck on the top floor of a bed-and-breakfast. The youngest, especially, had been growing rather restless. He needed room to run and play.

  But now they were at their new farm and the inn was far quieter. Yet instead of feeling a renewed sense of peace, Beverly felt the same as she had when Leona, Mattie, and Sarah had left the attic room four months ago . . . a little blue.

  She had no reason to be, either.

  Business at the Orange Blossom Inn couldn’t have been better. It was a rare day when they had one room vacant, let alone several. Rarer still when she wasn’t booking reservations, baking scones and cakes for afternoon tea, or feeling the need to weed her front flower garden.

  But today was one of those days. With half of her guests checked out and the remaining having informed her that they wouldn’t be back until dark, Beverly had been able to forego her usual afternoon tea service. And since she’d given Tricia most of the day off so she could spend it with Penny Knoxx, Beverly had unexpected time on her hands.

  After depositing the sheets in her washing machine and turning it on, Beverly poured herself a Mason jar full of iced tea and went outside to her front porch. She ignored the inviting trio of white rocking chairs and simply sat on the stoop, content to smell the lingering scent of orange blossoms on the trees and watch the occasional bicyclist pedal by.

  As the minutes passed, Beverly knew that she needed to face the facts. She wasn’t fretting about the Hilty boys leaving or simply relaxing after a busy couple of days.

  She was missing Eric Wagler.

  A good portion of her brain was shouting that such a thing simply didn’t make sense. Eric had first appeared in her life earlier this year to inform her that he rightfully owned the inn she’d thought belonged to her after her aunt, the previous owner, had passed away. In the beginning, she’d resented him something awful. Beverly had arrived at the inn during a time of need and for years it had been her haven. When he’d told her about his plans for the inn, she’d been angry. Why, she’d even called her lawyer to straighten things out!

  But eventually, she’d discovered that her aunt Patty had merely been leasing the inn. Beverly still had no idea why Patty had never told her. Maybe it had slipped her mind. Maybe, after running it for so many years, Patty had actually thought of the Orange Blossom Inn as hers, and when she’d known she was about to pass on into heaven she hadn’t thought to explain to Beverly how things really were.

  Whatever the reason, Eric’s news had stung.

  Eric, too, had been surprised by things. At first he wasn’t sure he even wanted to run an inn in Florida. But after spending some time at the inn a few months ago, he had decided to move from Pennsylvania to Florida.

  They’d also come to an agreement about running it: She was going to manage the day-to-day operations while he would handle the finances. She’d been so relieved to know that she was going to keep her job.

  But she’d been even happier to realize that, as time passed, Eric had become a good friend.

  Now, however, he was a distant one. He’d returned to Pennsylvania in order to put his house on the market. His plan had been to sell it quickly and then move to Sarasota, but the Lord hadn’t seen fit for that to happen yet. His house hadn’t sold and he was still in Pennsylvania.

  And she’d come to truly miss him.

  They’d taken to calling each other on occasion, presumably for work reasons. But usually, after dwelling on inn business for a few minutes, they would simply chat. It was funny, but their distance seemed only to bring them closer than ever.

  Noticing that her Mason jar was empty, Beverly took it to the kitchen and filled it again. Then she finally did what she’d been wanting to do for the last hour. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

  As it rang, Beverly tried to tell herself that it would be a good thing if he didn’t answer. She could leave a message and do something productive instead. There were always chores to do around the inn. Why, she could clean out the pantry!

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Eric,” she said quickly, so very happy that she wouldn’t have to tackle that pantry anytime soon. “It’s Beverly.”

  “Hey. What’s going on? Is there a problem?”

  “Not a single one.” He didn’t sound all that happy to hear from her and now she felt foolish. “I, uh, was simply wondering how your house sale was going today.” She frowned, realizing how she sounded: awkward!

  “It’s the same. Which means my house is still on the market and hasn’t received an offer.”

  “Oh, dear. I am sorry.”

  “I am, too, but I haven’t given up yet. My real estate agent promised that things usually pick up this time of year. I guess a lot of families move around the end of summer.”

  Thinking of the Hiltys, she said, “We recently had a family stay here for that very reason. Well, actually a widower and his three sons. He is going to take over an organic farm on the outskirts of Sarasota.”

  “Poor guy. I can’t imagine raising three children by myself.” His voice sounded warmer now, his words easier, as if he’d settled into their conversation.

  “I did feel sorry for him, though I never heard him complain about his situation. Oh! Guess what?” she added.

  “What?”

  “Tricia has a beau. His name is Ben and he’s one of that man’s sons.”

  Eric’s chuckle on the other end of the line eased her, and for the first time all day, she felt like herself again. “Bev, don’t keep me in suspense! Tell me all about him. Do you like him? Do you think it’s serious?”

  “Well, I think I like him. He’s mannerly.”

  “Mannerly? That’s it?”

  “Nee. Let’s see, he’s rather handsome. And strapping.”

  “Strapping?” Eric laughed. “Bev, I do love your descriptors.”

  She supposed she was sounding rather old-fashioned. “Let’s see, he seems mighty strong. Full of muscles. And he’s tall, too. Plus, he has blond hair and blue eyes. It seems he grew up on a farm in Charm, Ohio. He also seems quite taken with Tricia.”

  “He sounds like quite the catch.”

  “To be sure.” Smiling, she said, “Tricia noticed him immediately.” Sitting alone in the kitchen, Beverly rolled her eyes. Who wouldn’t have noticed Ben immediately?

  “Are you worried about him breaking her heart?”

  “A little, though I’m sure it’s just a litt
le crush. You know how kids are.” Though, of course, neither Ben nor Tricia were actually kids . . .

  When Eric chuckled and asked about Beverly’s best friend, Sadie, Beverly twirled the telephone cord around her finger and chatted some more.

  She also decided that she was going to write him a letter that week. There was nothing wrong with having a friend to write to and talk with occasionally. Nothing wrong with that at all. After all, they needed to get to know each other better, since he was technically her boss now. Yes, getting to know each other better was a mighty good idea. And an important step in their friendship.

  She simply needed to keep reminding herself that she and Eric were destined to be friends and friends only. Only a foolish woman would ever dream of becoming more than that with her boss.

  Only a very foolish woman indeed.

  AFTER WALKING HER GIRLS to Pinecraft Elementary, Emma decided to work on their new dresses when she got back home.

  Thankful to have some quiet time to herself, she carefully cleared off the kitchen table and wiped down the surface with a rag. Most of the time, she merely handed down Lena’s dresses to Mandy and Mandy’s dresses to Annie—it made the most sense—but every couple of months she took the time to sew each of them a new one.

  She’d ordered some beautiful fabric in shades of yellow for their new dresses. Emma loved outfitting them in coordinating colors, loved seeing how the three of them looked as they walked together, their similar frames and brown hair making them look almost like triplets. She imagined one day soon Lena would have enough of that and protest that it was time she decided what to wear. And Emma knew that when that day came, she wouldn’t blame her. But until then, she mused as she bent over the table and traced her pattern with a thick pencil, her three girls were going to match as much as possible.

  A brief knock sounded at her back door, followed by the creak of it opening. “Emma, where are you?” her mother called out.

  “Standing by the kitchen table,” she answered just as Frankie got to his feet and padded toward the kitchen. After hearing her mother greet Frankie, Emma grinned.