by Janice Hanna
Summerside Press™
Minneapolis 55337
www.summersidepress.com
Wedding Belles
© 2012 by Janice Hanna
ISBN 978-1-60936-632-2
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Scripture references are from the following sources: The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV).
The author is represented by MacGregor Literary Inc., Hillsboro, Oregon.
Cover design by Peter Gloege, Lookout Design, Inc. www.lookoutdesign.com
Interior design by Mullerhaus Publishing Group www.mullerhaus.net
Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.
Printed in USA.
DEDICATION
To the wonderful folks at the Estes Park Museum. Thank you for your kindness and your book recommendations. You made my visit to Estes Park even more enjoyable! And to my “Dream Team.” You will never know what a blessing you’ve been in my life. My heart and prayers are with you all.
HIGHER GROUND
I’m pressing on the upward way,
New heights I’m gaining ev’ry day,
Still praying as I’m onward bound,
“Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.”
I want to scale the utmost height
And catch a gleam of glory bright;
But still I’ll pray till heav’n I’ve found,
“Lord, lead me on to higher ground.”
Lord, lift me up and let me stand
By faith on heaven’s tableland;
A higher plane than I have found,
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.
—Johnson Oatman Jr.
ONE
A RECKONING IN THE ROCKIES
Estes Park, prepare to be razzle-dazzled! Parker Lodge, located on the beautiful Fall River, continues to offer the best entertainment in town. This month’s event is certainly no exception. Join us this coming Friday evening, April 26, for a rousing performance by local musician Jeb Otis, who will play several well-known ballads and folk tunes on his saw. Otis, who hails from the Estes Valley region, will be appearing at the lodge for one night only, performing before a packed house. C’mon out and share in an evening of fine food, rousing entertainment, and heartfelt fellowship. Front-row seating for the first ten guests to arrive. —Your friends at Parker Lodge
Estes Park, Colorado, 1912
“JEB OTIS SAYS he’s going to jump off Longs Peak and end it all.”
“What?” Lottie Sanders looked up from the rippling waters of Fall River into her boss’s worried eyes. “He’s going to end it all? Why-ever would he do that?”
“Oh, you know how he is.” Gilbert Parker plopped down next to her and sighed. “Melodramatic. Always wanting attention. Just like the other men in this town. He’s frustrated because the Widow Baker won’t give him the time of day, so I guess this is how he plans to remedy the problem.”
“He’s going to remedy the problem by taking his life?” Lottie swallowed hard. “Won’t that defeat the purpose?”
“Who knows?” Gilbert offered a little shrug, and a hint of a smile turned up the edges of his lips. “But if it’s any consolation, I reminded him that he’s got a concert coming up this Friday evening, so maybe he’ll wait till after that to do himself in.”
“One can hope.” Lottie thought about the many times Jeb and the other fellas who frequented the lodge had posed such ludicrous threats. How weary she’d grown of their antics. “What’s it going to take to convince Jeb that he and Althea Baker are as different as night from day, anyway?” she asked. “They would make a terrible match. I’m surprised he can’t see that for himself.”
“True.” Gilbert released a sigh. “But I guess it’s true what they say—love is blind.”
“Mm-hmm.” It’s blind, all right.
Lottie dipped her toes into the cool water and gazed up at the majestic Rockies still capped with snow, even this late into the spring. They provided just the right distraction from the handsome young man to her left, though she would much rather stare into Gilbert’s beautiful blue eyes any day of the week. Not that she would ever come out and say so, of course.
“I know Jeb is just blowing off steam.” Gilbert smirked. “Otherwise I’d be plenty worried. But we both know he’s had his heart set on marrying for years now and is starting to feel…”
“Desperate?” Lottie turned her attention to Gilbert’s handsome face, her heart rate skipping to double time. If anyone understood desperation, she did. Hadn’t she waited a lifetime for Gilbert Parker to notice she was alive? Still, no one saw her jumping off a mountain peak, now, did they? No, sir. She would remain his faithful employee, calm and composed, no matter how badly her heart longed for more.
“Yep.” He nodded. “Guess so. Seems like a lot of the fellas round here are losing heart.”
They’re not the only ones.
“Just sayin’ we’ve got a lot of men bordering on grumpy because they haven’t found wives. Wish I could think of some way to help ’em out. You know what I mean?”
“Wait…” Lottie startled to attention as she realized what he was getting at. “Are you talking about finding brides for them? Is that what this is all about?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to see them happily matched,” he responded. “And Estes Park could certainly use more women. How is the lodge ever going to sustain itself if we don’t get more people coming through?”
“Well, yes, but…” Was he serious?
Worry lines appeared on Gil’s forehead. “You know how concerned I’ve been about keeping the lodge open since Pa died. If we don’t come up with a plan soon, I’ll have to close up the place for good. Mama will be devastated if that happens, and she’s already going through so much. This lodge is my pa’s dream, and she wants to keep it alive.” Gil raked his fingers through that thick blond hair of his, leaving it in a disheveled state. “I’ve got to admit, these days, the dream is looking more like a nightmare.”
Lottie did her best not to sigh aloud as she pulled her feet from the water. In the three months since Gilbert’s father had passed away, their spirits were lower than ever. She’d tried everything imaginable to bring in customers, hoping to turn things around, but so far to no avail. “I’ve given you all my best ideas—oyster suppers, Saturday night dances, pie-eating contests, horseback-riding expeditions, talent extravaganzas, flower shows…. We’ve tried everything to bring in visitors to the lodge.”
She’d grown weary with it all, especially the dances, where more often than not she spent her evenings kicking up her heels with the wallflowers. Oh, how she wished that, just once, Gilbert would sweep her into his arms and waltz her across the room. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Perhaps her thoughts would be freed up to think of other ideas to save the lodge, if only he would tease her with a dance.
A silence grew between them. Lottie squinted as ribbons of sunlight filtered through the trees, grateful for the distraction.
“I still say the problem is the lack of women,” Gilbert said after a moment.
She gazed at his messy hair, wanting to reach out and fix it but not having the courage. “We’ve got plenty of women in town,” she argued. “What about the Estes Park Women’s League?”
“Most of those ladies are already married. I’m talking about new women. Fresh women.” His cheeks turned red and he looked a bit flustered. “Well, not fresh, exactly. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” She bit back the laughter that threatened to erupt. “Just wait until the summer, Gil. We’ll have quite a few new ladies come through
. You’ll see.”
“Yes, the tourists stay for the season, but then they always leave again and go back to wherever they really live. They won’t stay. We need women with staying power.”
She felt her concern growing. If a passel of beautiful women came through, one of them would surely steal Gilbert away. Not that Lottie had any chance of winning his heart, regardless. He never seemed to think of her in that light.
Perhaps this would be the perfect time to drop a few hints. “I’ve stayed,” she whispered.
“Yes, you have.” Relief swept over his face. “And have I mentioned how grateful I am for that? When your sister moved away to Denver, I felt sure you would…” His words trailed off.
Ah. So that’s what this was all about. He was still pining away for her older sister. Well, so be it. Let him mourn. At Mama’s nudging, Winifred was happily courting a business tycoon from Denver now and couldn’t be bothered with the likes of Gilbert Parker. Not that she’d ever paid him any mind. No, she’d been content to flirt and tease and then break his heart in the end.
“Anyway, I felt sure you would eventually go away too,” Gilbert said, his eyes now riveting into hers. “Promise me you won’t ever leave.”
A wave of compassion swept over Lottie as she took in the sadness in his expression. “I can’t imagine leaving Estes Park. I’ve spent my whole life here. I don’t care where that silly sister of mine ventures off to or how much money her potential husbands might have. I love it here. Always have. I love every single thing about it, Gilbert. Every. Single. Thing.”
There. Surely he would take the hint. She batted her eyelashes, just in case he missed the point.
Gilbert shrugged but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned toward the river and sighed. Lottie forced her gaze back to the mountain, determined not to let him see the disappointment on her face. “Anyway,” she managed, “I don’t think Jeb and Althea are a good match, but who am I to talk of love and romance? I know nothing of such things. Maybe if Jeb would stop beatin’ that devil around the stump and ask Althea to marry him, she might just say yes. Then he could lay his miseries to rest once and for all.”
“He’s tried a thousand different ways to propose, but she’s not bitin’. You know that.”
“So he’s jumping off Longs Peak?” Lottie spoke the words matter-of-factly, as if men jumped off Longs Peak every day, just for the fun of it. “That’s his answer to the problem?”
“Mm-hmm. Third time this month he’s threatened to do so, but I think he just might do it this time.”
“Nope. He ain’t jumpin’.” Lottie lay back on the grass, her gaze now on the brilliant blue sky above—what she could see of it through the overhanging trees, anyway.
“How do you know?” Gilbert’s muscled arms flexed as he slipped his hands behind his head. Not that she was looking out of the corners of her eyes or anything. That would just be wrong. Or right, depending on which angle you looked at him.
“I heard Phineas Craven say that the fish out at Lake Estes are bitin’ today. You know Jeb. He’ll never take his life if there’s a fish in the lake with his name on it.”
Gilbert chuckled. “Guess I can relax then.”
“Guess so.” She laughed.
Lottie tried not to think about how much she would love for him to sweep her into his arms but found that difficult, what with him being so close and all. She willed her racing heart to slow down.
Not that he would notice anyway. No, much like Jeb Otis, Lottie had tried seven ways from Sunday to draw the attention of the person she loved, but Gil wasn’t biting. She’d stand a better chance of catching a shark in Fall River than snagging the likes of Gilbert Parker. Maybe if she laid aside her tomboyish ways, he might give her a second glance. And perhaps donning something other than her worn-out overalls and cowboy boots might up her chances as well. Then again, if she changed too much, what would folks say? Would they think she was putting on airs, like her sister?
Patience, Lottie. Slow and steady wins the race.
Gilbert rose and brushed the dirt from the back of his pants. “Guess I’d better head back inside. Mama’s cooking up a feast tonight. Our three lodgers are going to have more than enough to eat.” He rolled his eyes, and she got the point. How many months had they longed for an influx of lodgers? Still, only a few trickled in, and they rarely stayed long.
Lottie offered an encouraging smile. “I’ll be in shortly. Can’t take much time, though, because Pa wants me home for dinner. He and Mama are more finicky about that, now that Winnie’s gone.” She sighed. Sometimes it really presented a challenge, being the last remaining child at home. Not that she viewed herself as a child, of course. Certainly not. Especially when her thoughts drifted to Gilbert, which they seemed to do a lot these days.
He took off toward the lodge, and Lottie followed him with her lingering gaze. As he disappeared from view, she turned her attention back to the mountain, her thoughts now tumbling. If she could just figure out a way to save the lodge, she might win Gilbert’s affection. What she needed was a plan, one that would pay off in dollars and cents.
No matter what it took, she would turn things around. And if she played her cards right, she might just come out of the deal with Gilbert Parker on her arm.
* * * * *
AS GILBERT MADE HIS WAY through the clearing toward the lodge, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jeb Otis and his threat to jump off Longs Peak.
“What a windbag.”
’Course, Jeb was no different from any of the other locals who frequented the lodge’s restaurant. The men of Estes Park kept Gilbert hopping with their grumbles and complaints about the lack of women in the area. He was reaching the end of his rope. After years of listening to their “I need a good woman” speeches, he’d had enough.
Sure, they could all use a good woman. No argument there. But did he have to hear about it day and night, month after month, year after year? Besides, they weren’t the only ones pining away for a good woman. Didn’t they realize he struggled with the same feelings? Clearly they didn’t, or they wouldn’t bother him with their drama.
Drama.
The word hit him again, this time nearly knocking the breath out of him as an idea rolled through his mind. He froze in his tracks and latched onto it then gave it a thorough chew.
Drama.
At once, a full plan of action came to his mind, one that must’ve tumbled from heaven above. Yes, for only a heavenly plan could be this inspired.
“That’s it! Why didn’t I think of this before?”
Gilbert turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the river, convinced that Lottie would love this idea. Didn’t she always go along with his plans, after all? Hadn’t she been his biggest supporter thus far?
Yes, and what a great partner she’d make on this venture. Perhaps, between the two of them, they could save the lodge.
TWO
DEVILISH DEEDS IN THE DINING HALL
Folks, rumors are afloat here at the Parker Lodge, where we’re cooking up more than our usual fare in the dining hall. A clever plan is under way to draw a new crowd of tourists and locals to the lodge, one sure to garner the attention of many across the nation, particularly those with a dramatic flair. Want more details? Just ask our manager, Gilbert Parker. He will gladly give you an earful if you ask for the particulars. I dare not say more, though I will leave you with a hint: What do you get when you merge a villain, a female in distress, and a handsome hero? According to Mr. Parker, the best entertainment this side of the Rockies. —Your friends at Parker Lodge
“WHATEVER GAVE YOU THE IDEA I could pull off a theatrical?”
Lottie paced the dining hall at Parker Lodge, so flustered she could hardly think straight. She stopped long enough to cast a wary glance Gilbert’s way as he took to stammering.
“Well, I, um, I…”
“I know nothing about stage plays. I don’t sing. I don’t act. I don’t dance.” She paused to stare him down. “Well, other than the ki
nd of dances we have on Saturday nights, but that’s different. And even then I’m tripping over my two left feet.”
“I’m not asking you to perform in the show.” Gilbert cast her a fretful gaze. “Just to direct.”
“Just to direct?” As if directing wasn’t a huge undertaking. She tried to eke out a response, but nothing sensible came to mind. He must’ve lost his mind with this latest idea of his. She’d tried to tell him so yesterday when he’d first suggested it. What was the point of today’s meeting with Jeb and the other fellas? To gang up against her, perhaps? To talk her into something she would soon regret?
“You’ve always been good at arranging things, Lottie.” He offered her a boyish pout, one that almost melted her heart. Almost.
“Sure, Lottie,” a couple of the fellas chimed in from their card table just a few yards away.
She busied herself clearing dirty dishes from one of the smaller tables in the lodge’s dining hall. “Flowers, maybe,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Social dances, even. But…a stage production? A melodrama, no less? I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.” The dirty plates clattered as she set them back down on the table.
Gilbert didn’t look at all concerned. “It’ll be great,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Might just save the lodge too. Our three lodgers are gone now, so we’re not bringing in any income at all.”
Nothing like a little pressure to offer incentive.
“Have I mentioned that we don’t even have a script?” She crossed her arms and stared at him. “You’re asking me to create something out of nothing.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve got enough fodder for a thousand melodramas. You’re surrounded by characters, after all.” Gilbert pointed to the fellas—Phineas Craven, Jeb Otis, and the others, who’d stopped by the lodge for their usual Friday night card game. “Might as well take their drama to the stage, don’t you think?”