Willa wanted to scream, “Nice to see you? You have some nerve!” Instead, she threw her shoulders back so she stood at her full height. “Good evening, Dirk.”
“So zis is zee girl!” The Frenchwoman’s dark, penciled eyebrows rose as her red lips puckered. She looked as though she was trying to refrain from bursting into laughter. She turned her attention to her husband. “Vhat ees zee matter? You are not afraid to introduce us, no?”
“Of course not.” Dirk could barely contain his emotions—obviously a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “This is Willa Johnston. Willa, this is Nanette Bridges.”
“Hees wife,” Nanette said pointedly.
Willa only managed a nod. “Nice to meet you,” was more than she could muster. Nanette was so overtly thrilled by the chance to rub her victory in Willa’s face that she couldn’t contain her glee. Or was she simply insecure? Willa realized that perhaps Nanette still viewed her as competition. But why? She had made no effort to contact Dirk since he had written the good-bye letter that bore a French postmark. Dirk had made his decision and had not indicated to Willa that he had any regrets. Or was that a hint of remorse she caught in Dirk’s eyes? No matter. He had chosen Nanette. Willa wouldn’t want Dirk now even if he begged. Breaking up a marriage, no matter how ill advised, surely wasn’t God’s plan for Willa.
Willa’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a nearby guest. “What’s this?”
“Is your dessert soupy?” whispered another.
“Soupy doesn’t begin to describe it. Liquid is more like it.”
Horrified, Willa watched as one guest after another dipped a spoon into the mousse, only to discover that, somehow, the dessert had not chilled into the expected frothy cloud of chocolate. Dorothy’s face wore a look of amusement mixed with disgust. She whispered something into her suitor’s ear.
Willa inwardly groaned and surveyed the room in hopes that the few guests at Dirk’s table were the only ones whose desserts had proven disastrous. Maybe the rest of the guests were enjoying a properly prepared dessert. Her hopes were crushed when she saw the puzzled looks, grimaces, and questioning expressions on the faces of the every other guest present. Every single dessert was apparently a flop.
Willa felt her mouth drop open in despair. What could have happened? If only she’d listened to Garrison. If only she had tasted one of the desserts before serving a disaster to a whole room full of dinner guests! Or better yet, if only she had let him help her, as he had suggested. Now she had made a fool of herself and of Garrison!
“Vhat ees this?” Nanette wondered aloud. “Zee dessert is not up to, how you say—up to par?” Nanette picked up her dessert spoon and stabbed the top of the mousse. Underneath the perfect top, the concoction was nearly liquid. “Zis is not like any mousse I have been served in Paree.” She turned her attention to Willa. “Ees zis how you Americans prepare a mousse? Or have you not enough electreecity to operate your icebox?”
Not knowing what else to do, Willa pretended to be too occupied with picking up the next dessert from the cart to notice her comments.
“Perhaps you could take a few lessons from someone who knows her vay around zee kitchen?” Nanette mocked in a voice too loud for anyone nearby to ignore.
“That’s enough,” Dirk hissed.
Dirk’s admonition was too little, too late. Willa felt tears rush to her eyes.
She heard Thomas whispering into her ear. “Is everything all right? Do you want me to get Garrison?”
Willa shook her head.
“Garrison? Ees zat zee caterer? Oui, Garçon, I would like to see zee caterer.” Nanette swiveled in her chair, her hand airborne in an expressive gesture. Before Willa could stop what was happening, Nanette’s fingers hit the side of the dish Willa held. The chilly mousse tipped toward the woman. Willa made a swipe to catch the dessert, but her efforts were futile. The brown soup, generous dollop of whipped cream, and frothy chocolate topping landed on Nanette’s upswept coif. The half-empty dish hit the back of the chair, splattering more liquid on her dress, before hitting the wood floor and exploding into pieces.
Willa gasped. “I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
Nanette rose so quickly that the wooden folding chair in which she sat toppled to the floor behind her, echoing throughout the hall. She touched her blood-red fingernails to her hair, trying to smooth the curls back into place in spite of the mess the chocolate had made of her coif. With sticky sweetness covering her hands, she shook them out, splattering the floor and white tablecloth with brown specks.
In spite of the fact that Nanette had speckled Willa’s dress and shoes with mousse in her fury, Willa placed her fingertips lightly on Nanette’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. “Let me help you.”
Nanette swatted Willa’s hand away. “You do not dare to touch me! Have you not done enough damage already?” She surveyed her frock. “Just look at zis dress! I’ll have you to know zis was very expensive. I’ll make sure you reimburse me every penny, you, you!” Nanette stomped her feet. “How you say—incompetent fool!”
“Nanette!” Dirk intervened.
“Dirk, do somezing. Make her comprehend zat she shall pay for zis!”
“It’s only a dress. Sit down.”
As Willa returned Nanette’s chair to its upright position, she heard the guests’ reactions. Some chuckled. Others whispered. Still others’ tones indicated their stunned amazement.
Willa couldn’t remember a time she’d been more humiliated. The whole town, the whole county was laughing at her. And she couldn’t blame anyone but herself.
Abandoning the serving cart, Willa ran through the back door of the dining area, through the kitchen, and out through the screen door, nearly tripping on the back steps. The spring night smacked her with brisk air, but Willa ignored her shivering body. She was too busy trying to escape. She had ruined everything. Garrison would never forgive her!
Chapter 7
Willa didn’t remember the walk home from the church. All she could do was to hurry past familiar houses and streets she’d known all her life. Falling tears blurred her vision. Occasionally a car would honk its horn. Willa waved but tried not to look at anyone. She didn’t want anyone in the friendly little town to stop and offer her a ride home. Anyone who did would notice she was upset and start asking questions. Her humiliation was too deep to share, even with lifelong friends.
Ron was in the kitchen, snacking on cookies and milk, when she ran through the back door. He looked at his watch. “Say, isn’t it a little early yet, Sis? Everything went all right, didn’t it?”
Willa gave him a quick nod.
“What’s the matter, Sis? Why did you come in through the back?” He peered out the front door. “Didn’t Garrison bring you home?”
Willa shook her head.
“Say, you two didn’t have a spat, did you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it.” Willa rushed out of the kitchen, through the dining room, into the security of her bedroom, and shut the door behind her. Sitting on her bed, she wept. “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “why am I so clumsy? How did I manage to ruin the most important night of my life?”
Willa waited for an answer, but none seemed forthcoming. She kicked off her navy sandals and rolled over on the bed, letting her face bury itself in her pillow. Too distressed to think, she fell into a fitful sleep.
“Sis! Wake up!” Ron shook her shoulder.
“Wha—” Willa realized she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wondered why, until she remembered what had transpired that evening. Looking toward the window, she could see through the crack between the curtain and sill that it was still dark.
“What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
Good. Maybe she could get a few more hours of sleep before she had to face reality. “Leave me alone.”
He shook her again. “Get up. Garrison’s here.”
>
She shook her head. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. “Tell him I’m not home.”
“Don’t be silly, Willa. Get up and go see him.”
“No.” She turned on her side, away from Ron.
“Look, I don’t know what happened, but you’ve got to see him sometime.”
“No. Tell him to go back to Maryland. I don’t want to see him ever again.”
“But I want to see you,” Garrison’s voice interrupted.
Willa looked in the direction of his voice. Garrison was standing in the entrance of her room. Her heart betrayed her by leaping for joy. At that moment, Willa realized her eyes must be puffy and red from crying. She was still in her clothes. Certainly they were wrinkled and crumpled. Perhaps he was headed back to Maryland, but she had enough pride that she didn’t want him to see her like this!
“I can see I have no choice,” she agreed grumpily. “But will you give a girl a minute to freshen up?”
Garrison disappeared into the parlor almost before her request was out of her mouth.
Ron rolled his eyes. “I hope you settle your tiff soon. I liked you better when you weren’t moping around.”
Seeing her image in the large, round vanity mirror, Willa had to agree. “Go and talk to him while I freshen my lipstick, will you?”
As he went to comply, she patted around her eyes with a bit of loose translucent face powder to conceal red in the wrong places. Quickly she touched her lips with a dab of lipstick to add color in the right place. After running a comb through her hair, she smoothed her dress into place, satisfied she looked as good as a girl could look this late in the evening.
She knew she needed to ask Garrison’s forgiveness, but she wished he’d waited until she was ready. Well, she reasoned, all she could do now was to stand straight and keep her head held high. After all, he had reason to ask her forgiveness too. The nerve of him, accepting her help in fixing up the house when he planned to move all the time!
Willa had worked herself up into a subdued fury by the time she stepped into the parlor. No matter what he had to say, no matter what accusations he might make, she was ready for him. She was ready to face the angry glint in his eye, the darkness in his face.
To her surprise, the Garrison waiting for her wasn’t in the foul mood she anticipated. Instead, he paced the floor aimlessly while holding a nearly full glass of lemonade. He wore an expression of worry compounded with anticipation, reminding her of an expectant father waiting for his wife to deliver a baby rather than a man enraged that an event he catered had just been ruined.
As soon as he noticed her, Garrison set down the glass and rushed toward her. He put a hand on each of her shoulders. “Willa, I got here as fast as I could. I would have been here sooner, but I had to clean up.” His eyes were wide with anxiety, his mouth slack with worry. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m terrible for not coming to your rescue.”
“Coming to my rescue? But I’m the one who ruined your dinner. I never should have insisted on making the dessert. I–I’m sorry.” She looked down at her feet in a display of genuine shame. How did he manage to make her behave this way? She had entered the room looking for an apology, and instead, she had rushed to explain herself to him.
“There will be other dinners.”
Remembering why she was infuriated, Willa stared into his face. “Is that so?”
“Of course.” He began ticking off names on his fingers. “There’s the Smith party, the Williams birthday, the Bennett wedding—and that only takes me until the end of this month.”
“And then you’re leaving.” Willa kept her voice flat, fighting every urge not to plead with him not to go. How would she ever be happy without him being nearby?
As her words registered, pain clearly marked his face. “I can make a provision in the contract that you are to have use of the hot house. You might have to pay them a little bit of rent each month, of course. But at least then you won’t have to worry about being in business with me anymore. You can grow and sell your flowers. Maybe open your own florist shop on Main Street. I know your store would thrive.” His monotone belied the excitement his words should have generated.
“But that’s not what I want.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, at least I don’t want a business to be my whole life. I realize now that it wasn’t being in business that made me happy. It was being in business with you.”
His Mediterranean blue eyes were intent on hers, reminding Willa of the day she fell in love with Garrison. “When I first came out here, I wanted to hightail it out as soon as I could. I never dreamed I’d meet someone like you, Willa.”
“But I know how much you want to go back East, Garrison. Back to your beaches and oceanside. I understand. Really, I do.” Willa only hoped her protest was convincing enough to set him free. She would never ask him to give up the life he really wanted just to stay in the Midwest with her. She would somehow do without hearing his voice, working by his side, sharing a hymnal each Sunday, observing again and again his handsome looks. She loved him enough to give up being with him should he be happier somewhere else.
Willa focused on her shoes, praying tears wouldn’t fall. She didn’t want Garrison’s pity. She couldn’t stand that.
“Do you really think I could choose the ocean over you?”
Surprised, she looked up into his eyes. Though Willa had never seen an ocean, she imagined no body of water could be more beautiful than his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’d like to stay here. Right here in Kansas. If you’ll agree to stay by my side. As my wife.”
Willa’s heart began beating faster than she’d ever felt it beat before. “Do you really mean that, Garrison?”
“Let me show you how much.” Stepping back from her, he reached into his coat pocket and took out some papers.
“What’s that?”
“The contract to sell the house. I haven’t made any promises to the potential buyers. But after tonight, I’ve made up my mind. I’m staying here in Kansas.” Garrison ripped the papers in half.
Willa gasped.
“So what will it be, Willa? Will I be staying here all by my lonesome in that big old house? Or will you be Mrs. Garrison Gaines?”
“Even after tonight?”
“Especially after tonight. I’ll eat chocolate soup every night of my life if I get to spend it with you.”
“Then I think you know the answer.” Willa fell into his embrace. “I only have one condition.”
His eyebrows rose. “And what’s that?”
“I’m not so fond of chocolate soup, myself. So would you mind doing the cooking?”
He broke out into the smile she had always loved. “It’s a deal. The best deal I ever made.”
“Then I’m yours. Forever.”
Their lips met, melting together in a kiss they knew was only the beginning of a life full of love and happiness, with many more kisses to come.
About the Authors
DARLENE MINDRUP
Darlene Mindrup lives with her husband in Goodyear, Arizona. She has raised two children, a daughter, Dena, and son, Devon. Having served in the air force herself, Darlene is proud of her two children, one who has married a marine and the other who is now proudly serving in the air force. After nineteen books with Barbour, Darlene still finds her most rewarding heroines to be those who are unconventionally lacking in beauty. As she has always said, “Romance is not just for the young and beautiful.” Nowadays, Darlene spends a good portion of her time being the church secretary for the West Olive Church of Christ.
DIANNE CHRISTNER
Dianne Christner is a full-time historical Christian romance writer. She loves the traveling and research part of her job. After living in the same home for twenty-six years, she and her husband, Jim, are building a new house on two and a half acres of desert. They love the outdoor-living style of Phoenix. Dianne’s son, Michael, and his wife, Heather, live in Phoenix and just starte
d their family with a little girl named Makaila. Dianne’s daughter, Rachel, and her husband, Leo, live in Houston, Texas.
JENNIFER ROGERS SPINOLA
Jennifer Rogers Spinola, a Virginia/South Carolina native and graduate of Gardner-Webb University in North Carolina, just moved to the States with her Brazilian husband, Athos, and two sons. Jennifer lived in Brazil for nearly eight years after meeting her husband in Sapporo, Japan, where she worked as a missionary. During college, she served as a National Park Service volunteer at Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. In between homeschooling high-energy sons, Jennifer loves things like adoption, gardening, snow, hiking, and camping.
LYNN A. COLEMAN
Lynn A. Coleman is an award-winning, multipublished author and speaker. She is the cofounder of American Christian Romance Writers, served as president for two years and advisor for the group. Currently, she makes her home in Miami, Florida, with her husband of thirty years. They serve the Lord as pastors of Christ Community Church. Together, they are blessed with three children and eight grandchildren.
NANCY J. FARRIER
Nancy recently moved to Southern California with her husband, John, and her three youngest daughters. Nancy’s son and grandson live in Tucson, Arizona, and her oldest daughter lives in Portland, Oregon.
Although she grew up with a love of reading and making up stories, Nancy didn’t write seriously until 1995 when God made it clear He wanted her to use her talent for Him. Now she loves sharing her faith and the message of the gospel through her writing.
Since then, Nancy has written seven novels and three novellas for Barbour Publishing, and she has also coauthored a nonfiction book for them, Prayers and Promises for Mothers. Before having any books published, Nancy wrote numerous articles and short stories for many Christian magazines.
PAMELA KAYE TRACY
Pamela Kaye Tracy is a writer and teacher in Scottsdale, Arizona, where she lives with a newly acquired husband (yes, Pamela is somewhat a newlywed) and two confused cats (“Hey, we had her all to ourselves for thirteen years. Where’d this guy come from? But maybe it’s okay. He’s pretty good about feeding us and petting us”). She was raised in Omaha, Nebraska, and started writing (a very bad science-fiction novel) while earning a BA in journalism at Texas Tech University in Lubbock, Texas.
The Timeless Love Romance Collection Page 61