“The truth is, I began to question my relationship with Lenore when I saw you again, Jane.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know I must seem flaky.”
She didn't say anything, just watched him, trying to read his expression. Mostly, she thought he looked older.
“But yesterday, when I saw you, Jane, sitting outside with that guy, I felt so jealous.”
“That was our minister. The one who preached today. He's simply a good friend, Justin.”
“The point is that I felt jealous of him.”
She didn't know what to say.
“And then when I saw you with that other fellow today, the one that Belle said was some hotshot journalist from Philadelphia, well, I got even more jealous.”
“Oh, Justin.”
“I know, it's crazy. I'm the one who let you go, and now I'm feeling like you've done me wrong.”
“Do you really feel that way?”
“No, I suppose not. But even seeing you now, Jane…” He reached over and touched her cheek and, before she could stop herself, she jerked her head back, moving away from him. “I'm sorry,” he said as he put his hand down.
“I'm sorry too, Justin.” She felt confused. And, she hated to admit it, but she was inclined to agree with Justin. He was a little flaky.
“I asked Lenore to marry me, Jane. Right before I left on this trip.”
She felt an enormous sense of relief. But she also felt concerned. “Do you love her, Justin? I mean I hope you have found someone special. I'd hate to see you make a mistake.”
“I'm not sure if I really understand love,” he admitted. “As you know, I'm a pretty selfish guy. Maybe I'm incapable of loving someone.”
She couldn't completely disagree with him on that account. Even his unnecessary confession seemed self-serving. He'd been having health problems. He thought a clear conscience might improve his ulcer problem, lower his blood pressure, improve his quality of life, perhaps even help with his next marriage. Well, for his sake, she hoped it would.
“I suppose you want to go home now?” he asked.
“Actually, I do. It's been a long day.”
“Thanks for listening,” he said as he turned the car back toward town.
“You won't believe this,” she said suddenly, hoping to change to a more lighthearted subject, “but I actually thought maybe you and Belle were going to hit it off, Justin. She is looking for a marrying man, you know.”
He laughed. “I know. She told me all about her dream.”
“So, you're not interested?”
“She's very sweet and pretty, but she's not my type.” He turned and gazed longingly at her. “Not like you at all, Jane.”
Finally, they were back at the inn. “Would you like to come in?” she asked in a way she knew must have sounded halfhearted.
“No, thanks. I think I'll be on my way.”
“Back across the country?”
“Yes. This time I'll take the northern route and see some new sights.”
“I wish you well, Justin.”
“Thanks. You too.” His eyes were sad, and she felt a lump in her throat as she told him, “Take care.”
When she reached the steps to the inn, he tooted his horn and she turned and waved. She stood there and watched as his little red car drove slowly away. There was a sense of finality in this good-bye. She felt certain that Justin would not be back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Memorial Day celebration went off without a hitch the following morning. Almost. The high school band played patriotic songs that were nearly on key. Calvin Horn raised the flag to the top of the pole, then slowly lowered it to half-staff in honor of those who had given their lives for their country. After that, Lloyd Tynan performed his mayoral role by giving a speech that was long-winded but heartfelt. Meanwhile, while no one was paying attention to her, Clara Horn's pet pig Daisy had a free-for-all in the recently restored planters as she uprooted and ate dozens of petunias that Jane and Craig had just put in.
“Oh my goodness,” said Clara as they examined the destruction afterward. “I do hope poor Daisy doesn't get sick from eating all those blooms.” She turned to Jane with concerned eyes. “Do you think the flowers are poisonous, dear?”
Jane reassured Clara that petunias were actually quite edible. “In moderation,” she added, “although Daisy did make a pig of herself.”
Alice giggled as she attempted to replant a ravaged petunia into one of the planters.
“We'll have these planters back to normal in no time,” Craig told the flustered mayor as he winked at Jane.
“And the city will reimburse you for everything,” Lloyd said to Craig. “Such a shame.” He shook his finger at Daisy, who was now tied to the flagpole and looked a tiny bit guilty. “Bad girl!”
“Maybe we'll plant something different this time,” Craig told Jane, assuming that she would be joining him. “As you know, I'm not a huge petunia fan anyway.”
“Don't forget you all are invited to my house for a celebration barbecue,” said Clara Horn to the inn crowd as well as Craig and Lloyd. “It's in honor of my greatnephew Calvin and his distinguished service to our country. I hope you'll all come.”
“I know I'm going,” said Belle happily. She was standing right next to Calvin, who looked quite handsome in his uniform. Jane wondered if perhaps he was the one, but judging by his deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression, that was probably not the case.
“How about you, Jane?” asked Clive. “Are you going?”
She stepped over the mess Daisy had made all over the sidewalk. “I might go if I thought Clara was planning to barbecue a certain porker.”
“Oh, Jane,” said Alice. “You like Daisy.”
“I think I'd like her even better with a nice sweet-and-sour sauce.”
Clive laughed loudly, but Louise gave Jane a warning glance suggesting that Clara might be in earshot.
“Just kidding,” said Jane quickly. Then she turned back to Clive. “How about you, are you going to go catch a little more local color?”
He grinned. “I am getting a lot of inspiration for my book,” he said quietly to her. “But I'm thinking I should get back to the city before the holiday traffic picks up. I have a column that's due tomorrow morning. Besides, I can't wait to see how my new terrace garden turns out.”
“Don't forget that you promised to e-mail me photos,” said Jane.
“And you promised to let me take you to lunch next time you're in town,” he reminded her. “As a thank-you.”
She shook his hand. “It's a deal.”
“Then if you good ladies will accept my sincere gratitude for a lovely few days at your delightful inn, I think I will bid you all good-bye.” He shook hands with all of them, pausing longer with Jane. “And I plan to come back to Grace Chapel Inn again, perhaps next fall.”
Then Jane and her sisters walked over to Clara's house, where not a speck of barbecued pork was to be found, though the burgers were tasty and abundant.
“Belle seems to have latched onto poor Calvin,” said Sylvia as she and Jane observed from the sidelines. “Do you think he's the one?”
“I don't know,” said Jane. “But you should see all the wedding goodies that Belle has collected for the big event. I was putting fresh linens in her room this morning, and it looked like a mini bridal boutique in there.”
“Oh my.” Sylvia sighed. “I hope she's not too devastated next weekend.”
Then Jane told Sylvia about yesterday's conversation with Justin. It was a relief to tell more of the details, and Sylvia, as usual, was an eager and sympathetic listener. Jane had told her sisters about how it had gone with Justin, but the inn was busy and then Clive requested some of her time. The plan was to fill them in more fully after things settled down.
“Get a look at that,” whispered Sylvia as she nodded over to where Clara and Belle seemed to be having a private conversation behind the lilac bush. “
Do you think Clara is asking Belle whether her intentions are honorable?”
Jane chuckled. “She's probably giving Belle romantic advice. Or perhaps she's setting up an appointment for a beauty consultation.”
Unfortunately, for Belle's sake, they were both wrong. According to Ethel, who was always in the know, Clara was simply informing Belle that Calvin had a serious girlfriend back home. He had even been thinking about proposing to her. Consequently, on Tuesday morning, it appeared that Belle's last hopes of getting a man were completely dashed. And, as much as the sisters tried to cheer her, it seemed to be of no use. Not only that, but Wednesday afternoon, Belle learned that her offer to buy the McCullough house had been turned down. It seemed that someone had outbid her.
“It doesn't matter anyway,” she told them all on Thursday morning. “I might as well give up and go home. I know when I've been beaten.”
“You might not want to be stuck in a town with so many disappointing memories. Perhaps it's a blessing,” said Alice as she refilled Belle's coffee cup.
Belle nodded sadly. She had come to breakfast wearing warm-ups and not a speck of makeup. Even her hair was not perfectly done as it usually was. Belle seemed so un-Belle-like that the sisters felt very sorry for her. The poor woman was clearly depressed.
“I don't know about that,” said Ethel, mustering a positive tone. She had come by this morning to offer her condolences as much as to partake in Jane's cinnamon rolls. “I think we need Belle in Acorn Hill. I know plenty of women who were looking forward to trying out your beauty products, Belle. You can't let them down just because you haven't found the right man yet. You can't give up so easily.”
“But the wedding,” said Belle. “It was supposed to be this weekend.”
“Maybe you had the date wrong,” suggested Louise.
“Y'all are so sweet trying to cheer me up,” said Belle. “But can't you see it's hopeless? I already called my folks and told them there would be no wedding.” She let out a little sob. “No wedding.”
“What about the flowers?” asked Jane as she suddenly imagined Wild Things buried in pink carnations and roses. “Did Craig already place an—”
“I called and canceled yesterday. He said it was okay.”
“And the cake?” asked Jane.
Belle nodded. “I called the Good Apple too. It's all taken care of.” Belle was really starting to cry. “It was going to be such a… such a pretty cake too.”
Alice handed Belle a tissue, and Ethel stood and checked her watch. She patted Belle on the shoulder. “I'm sorry that I can't stay and commiserate with you, dear, but I did promise to meet Lloyd for coffee.”
“It's okay,” sniffed Belle. “I appreciate you coming by.”
Ethel looked sternly at her nieces. “Since I have to go, it's up to you girls to make our Belle feel better.”
“I'm sorry,” said Alice. “I would be happy to stay with Belle, but I must go to work. It's my half day.”
“Oh, don't y'all worry about me.” Belle blew her nose loudly.
“And I must do books this morning,” said Louise.
Jane looked at their unhappy guest. Belle's face was damp and pink from crying, and she reminded Jane of a wilted pink rose. “Maybe you'd like to join me in the kitchen, Belle,” suggested Jane. “We can visit while I clean up.”
Belle took in a quick, choppy breath and muttered a meek thanks as she followed Jane into the kitchen and sat down at the table with her coffee. Jane was trying to think of something, anything, to say that might cheer her up, but her mind was blank.
“I know I must seem like a shallow little fool to you, Jane. The way I've carried on, obsessing over every silly little detail of my wedding, my wedding that is never going to be. I'm sure y'all have enjoyed some good laughs at my expense. And I'll be the first one to admit that I deserve it.”
“No, not at all.” Jane felt really bad.
“But I have come to at least one conclusion.”
“Yes?” Jane stopped rinsing a pot and looked at Belle.
“I know I was wrong to be so focused on all the trappings and trimmings of having the picture-perfect wedding. I can only blame that on the fact that I have dreamed of that day since I was just a little gal.”
“That's understandable, Belle. Most little girls have similar dreams.”
“But I think now that if I really did have a wedding, I would do it differently… not so much hoopla. Do you know what I mean?”
Jane nodded.
“And I think I would focus my energy on my husband instead of playing the role of queen for a day.”
“I think that sounds very sensible,” said Jane.
“That's Belle for you. I figure it all out after the party's over. I'm always a day late and a dollar short.”
“Oh, I don't think—”
“I just feel so sorry that I've dragged all you good folks in Acorn Hill through my little drama. I think I should just pack up and head South.”
At that moment the phone rang, and Jane was thankful for the distraction. Without waiting for Louise, she ran and picked it up. “Grace Chapel Inn,” she said formally.
“This is Richard Watson,” said a male voice. “Is Miss Bannister there?”
Jane handed Belle the phone. “It's for you,” she said, quietly identifying the caller. Jane hoped that it wasn't more bad news.
Belle mustered a congenial hello, then listened quietly, her face completely devoid of expression. Finally, she said, “Well, I suppose I could do that. If you really think— Okay, I'll be down in a little bit.” Then she hung up.
“What is it?” asked Jane.
“Richard wanted me to know that I could make another offer on the house. He said that I could go higher than the other bid and maybe get the house. Of course, the other buyer could go higher than my second offer.”
“Do you really want that house?” asked Jane. “I mean still?”
Belle shrugged.
“Do you want to remain in Acorn Hill even if you don't get married?” asked Jane. Despite Ethel's desire to keep her here, Jane was not convinced this was in Belle's best interest. And, as much as Jane had first been uneasy about this woman, she sincerely cared about her now.
“I do like it here, Jane. Acorn Hill feels like home to me. More so than the place I grew up.”
“But do you like it well enough to reside here as a single woman?”
With tears still glistening in her eyes, Belle took in a deep breath then answered. “Yes. I do feel at home here, Jane. I really, truly do.”
“You are absolutely certain?”
“I am certain.” She gave a very firm nod. “Naturally, I would feel even more at home here if I were a married woman, but I will not let that stop me now.”
Jane smiled at her. “Well, that's honest.”
“And I really do believe I want that adorable cottage, Jane. I just love every little thing about it. Even if I take your advice and don't paint it pink. Do you think I'm crazy?”
“No, I don't. I think it's a darling little house—pink or otherwise. Do you want me to go down to the real-estate office with you?”
Belle's eyes lit up. “Yes. Yes, I do, Jane. Just give me a few minutes to clean up a bit. Not the whole nine yards, mind you, but I can at least put on some lipstick and run a comb through my hair.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
To Jane's surprise, Belle was back downstairs in less than ten minutes. Her hair was combed and fluffed. She'd put on some makeup and changed into jeans topped with a crisp pink oxford shirt.
“Ready?” asked Jane as she reached for her car keys.
“Ready.” Belle seemed to be returning to her old cheerful self as they drove toward the real-estate office. Her optimism and hopefulness were returning. But, to Jane's relief, there was no mention of weddings, husbands or dreams. Belle's primary focus seemed to be fixed on getting that bungalow. And Jane was ready to back her all the way.
Richard, an energetic man in his forties, gr
eeted them both warmly, escorting them to his private office and explaining about making a new offer in meticulous detail. Belle decided on her terms and signed the necessary papers. She and Jane were in the reception area saying good-bye to Richard when the phone in his office rang, and he excused himself to get it. As he left the room, a middle-aged woman and a lanky middle-aged, balding man walked into the office. Jane recognized the woman from church but didn't know the gentleman.
“Hi, Mrs. Wren,” said Jane, introducing her to Belle.
“You ladies have not met my cousin Larry Mitchell,” said Mrs. Wren. “He just retired from the post office in Pittsburgh and plans to open a small business here in Acorn Hill.”
“What sort of business?” Jane asked Larry politely.
He gave her a shy half smile, and his big brown eyes, which reminded her of a puppy's, lit up. “A shoe store actually.”
“Oh, I simply adore shoes,” said Belle. “If there's one thing a girl can never have too many of, it's shoes. Now what sort of shoes do you plan to carry in your shoe store, Mr. Mitchell?”
“You can call me Larry.” He stood straighter. “I plan to sell sensible shoes. Comfortable shoes… shoes that are good for your feet.”
Belle frowned. “Well, I suppose that could catch on, with some people anyway.”
“After spending more than twenty years on my feet delivering mail,” he continued in an earnest tone, looking directly at Belle, “I believe that people can only be as happy as their feet.”
Belle's eyebrow creased as she thought about what he had said, and then she nodded. “You know, Larry, as much as I hate to admit it, that does make sense. Goodness gracious, my tootsies can be wailing something awful by the time I kick off a pretty pair of pumps.”
“You see?”
“I certainly do. I never really thought about it before, but I can get terribly grumpy after wearing high heels all day long.”
“I don't think I've ever seen you grumpy,” said Jane.
“That's only because I hide it.”
Larry laughed. “Perhaps I'll have a customer in you after all.”
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