Wedding Belles

by Janice Hanna

  “Your audience members won’t care much for your heroine if she’s weak or if she counts too much on a man to rescue her,” Flossie said.

  “I guess I see your point, but I don’t know how to balance that against the traditional melodrama format. So how do we remedy the problem?”

  “We’ve remedied it for you,” Fanny said. “Now, I hope it won’t hurt your feelings, but we’ve taken the liberty of doing a complete rewrite of your play.”

  Lottie swallowed hard and said nothing.

  “The answer to your dilemma was in front of you all along,” Flossie added. “This place—Estes Park—is loaded with enough real-life drama to transfer to the stage.”

  Over the next twenty minutes or so, the twins unfolded their plan for the show. Not only had they completely changed the script, they’d added a host of characters, both male and female. Lottie listened as they described—with great animation—just how the story would unfold. At first the sting of having her original story overlooked was almost too much to take. But as the women shared their vision, reality stared her in the face. These women were a gift from God. She could either accept that gift or reject it. To accept it meant a beautifully plotted show and a happy audience. To reject it meant she would get her way and the show would move forward as currently written—with no depth.

  When they finished speaking, Lottie rose and tugged at her overalls. “Ladies, you have misjudged me.”

  “We—we have?” Confusion registered on Fanny’s face.

  “Yes.” She looked down at them and grinned. “You were worried about hurting my feelings, and I need you to know that my feelings have been spared. This story idea you’ve come up with is brilliant. Better than brilliant, really. I love every single thing about it and can’t wait to see it come alive on the stage.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” Fanny extended her hand and Lottie reached down to help the robust woman rise. Turned out to be more of a task than she’d imagined. Before all was said and done, Flossie sprang up to help.

  “Well, I’m glad we’re all in agreement.” Flossie looked relieved. “Thought we might end up having words.”

  “No, the idea is wonderful. And I’m assuming you’ve got cast members in mind?”

  “Do we ever!” Fanny grinned. “Wait till you see.”

  She pulled out the cast list and the ladies talked through it as they walked along the edge of the creek. Lottie fought the temptation to kick off her boots and wade in the water.

  “The show will be a rousing success.” Excitement washed over Lottie as she spoke. “And I do hope it’s enough to save the lodge.”

  “Save the lodge?” Flossie stopped walking.

  Lottie clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I can’t believe I said that out loud. You ladies weren’t supposed to know.”

  “Know what?” Flossie’s gaze narrowed.

  Lottie paused and tried to decide how much to share. Oh well. She’d already put her foot in her mouth. Might as well give them the full story. They were bound to find out anyway.

  “The Parkers are in trouble.” Lottie tried to quiet the tremor in her voice as she spoke. “They’ve had trouble drawing folks to their lodge since Gil’s father died. He always kept the place up so nice, but Mrs. Parker and Gil are struggling.”

  “Oh my.” Fanny appeared stunned by this news.

  “With other, grander places to stay in town, visitors are fickle,” Lottie explained. “They want newer and nicer places like the Stanley Hotel. And who can blame them? That’s why we came up with the idea for the melodrama, to raise funds to keep the lodge open. We’ve tried so many things in the past—talent shows, Saturday night dances, game night…all sorts of things. But nothing has really brought in customers, at least not as many as we’d like to see.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Fanny slapped her thigh. “I’m loaded with ideas for raising money. Do you know how many benefits we’ve done over the years? Dozens! There was last month’s operetta to raise funds for the families of those who lost loved ones on the Titanic. That was quite spectacular and brought in a lot of money for those poor, devastated folks.” Her eyes misted over.

  “Don’t forget the one-act play we did years and years ago for the victims of that awful Galveston storm,” Flossie added, “and the outdoor musical extravaganza for the families affected by those wildfires a couple of years ago.”

  “And the benefit for Bellevue Hospital last summer,” Fanny added. “We can’t forget that one. We raised enough money to help them open the new children’s wing.”

  Lottie felt hope as never before. Her eyes flooded with tears. “Ladies, I don’t know if you believe in the power of prayer, but I must say, you are the answer to mine.”

  “Believe in prayer?” Fanny laughed. “I never make a move without praying first. How do you think we ended up in Estes Park, Colorado?”

  “I knew it.” Lottie reached to squeeze Fanny’s hand. “I just knew you had to be prayer warriors. It shows.”

  “I believe in prayer,” Flossie said. “But I believe in hard work too. So let’s get busy talking about ideas to raise money.” She gave Lottie a pensive look. “Let’s go back to what you said earlier about the things you’ve already tried. You mentioned talent shows. How did those turn out?”

  “Oh, we had a handful of folks sign up.”

  “Did you sell food?”

  “A bit. Not much, though. You’ve tasted Mrs. Parker’s cooking. As you’re already aware, she’s not the best cook in town.”

  “Right, but with Jeb onboard, I do believe we stand a real shot at bringing in money from the food. A dinner theater is the way to go.”

  “Perfect!” Lottie clasped her hands together, thrilled with the idea. “And just so you know, he’s got the best garden in the county and has cooked up all sorts of tasty things. You should taste his white bean chili. He makes it for poker night sometimes. The fellas all swear it’s the best they’ve ever eaten.”

  “Well, then, we can coordinate the names of his food to correspond with the theme of the show.”

  “Same with the pies,” Fanny said. “We can have Justin Credible Apple Pie, Hugh Dunnit Pecan Pie, and so forth. What do you think? We can sell it by the slice for our dessert theater productions. Folks can choose their option—dinner theater or dessert theater.” She began to talk about the role good food played in a theatergoer’s experience. By the time she wrapped up her little speech, she’d won Lottie over. In fact, with a new script, a new chef, and the temptation of delicious pies looming, the whole experience suddenly seemed quite…tasty.

  * * * * *

  GIL REACHED OUT TO HELP Cornelia walk across the rough-hewn bridge over the creek. She accepted his hand with a smile. The feel of her soft fingers against his palm sent a shiver through him. Still, he’d better stay focused. Though he’d love to spend the day with her, there was still plenty of work to be done back at the lodge. He also needed to talk with Lottie about the cast list, which they planned to post tomorrow.

  Minutes later he and Cornelia joined the others. He took a few steps in Lottie’s direction, his curiosity piqued by the excitement in her expression.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “More than all right. Oh, Gil, these women are such an answer to prayer.”

  “Yes, they are.” His gaze drifted back to Cornelia, who gave him a shy smile.

  “You just won’t believe what a blessing Flossie and Fanny have been. They want to help us, Gil—really, truly help us.”

  He was struck by the expression of pure joy on her face. How long had it been since he’d seen her this carefree?

  She shared the plan the twins had come up with. He especially loved the idea of the pie parlor. And the dinner-theater idea was perfect.

  “Do you think Jeb will be our chef?” she asked.

  “Oh, I think so.” He chuckled. “I think he’ll take any excuse he can get to be around the women. So spending more hours at the lodge won’t be a problem
, I’m sure.”

  Gilbert had just opened his mouth to say something else when a shrill voice rang out: “S–s–snake!” He turned to see Prudy standing behind him, her face ashen.

  All the women began to squeal at once. Well, all but Lottie, who took a couple of steps in the direction of the snake for a closer look.

  “That’s no snake.” She chuckled as she reached to pick it up. “It’s just a stick.”

  “O–oh.” Prudy still looked as if she might faint.

  Gilbert chuckled. Thank goodness for Lottie. She might not dress like the other ladies, but she certainly knew how to get the job done. And right now? Well, right now he needed a gal who knew how to get the job done.

  * * * * *

  LOTTIE COULD HARDLY wipe the smile off her face as the wagon headed back down the mountain toward the lodge. Even watching Cornelia squeeze into the spot between her and Gil didn’t upset the apple cart. No, with so many new ideas buzzing in her head, who had time to be upset?

  “Can I ask you a question?” Cornelia leaned over to whisper in Lottie’s ear.

  “Sure.”

  “I overheard Flossie talking about the new script a few minutes ago. Does it hurt your feelings a little that she and her sister have changed it so much?”

  Lottie brushed some hay off her pants. “Oh, I’ll admit it stung at first. But I don’t know anything about putting together stories like they do. Not really.”

  “Gil and I had a long talk about you just this morning,” Cornelia said.

  “O–oh?” This certainly got Lottie’s attention. “You did?”

  “Yes.” Cornelia giggled. “He’s just the sweetest fella, isn’t he? And so kindhearted. But anyway, he thinks you hung the moon. And he went on and on about the stories you used to tell when you were a kid. He says you were quite the storyteller.”

  Joy flooded over Lottie when she heard that Gilbert had been bragging on her. Still, his compliments were exaggerated. “I guess some would say that. I never really thought about those stories as anything special, though. They were just a way to pass the time. They gave me something to do, and a way to escape the…” She paused to think of the word. “The everydayness of my life.” A sigh followed.

  “Why the sigh?” Cornelia seemed genuinely concerned.

  “If I could pretend to be something—or someone—I wasn’t, then the pressures of the real world went away. In my mind, the pretend stories were more fun. More real, even.” She gestured to the mountains. “And look at the backdrop God gave me. Isn’t it perfect for a made-up story?”

  “It’s pretty perfect for a real-life one too.” Cornelia kept her face turned toward the mountains. “Where I come from, we don’t see mountains. Or scenery, for that matter.”

  “You’re from New York?”

  “Yes. Born and raised in the city. My parents sent me off to finishing school, but I got the acting bug. I don’t think they’ve ever quite forgiven me for choosing a life on the stage. They had something else planned for me.”

  “Like what?”

  She laughed. “Marriage to the perfect young man—respectable and from a good home.”

  “Sounds like we have more in common than you know.” Lottie bit back a laugh.

  “They would’ve had me married with babies by now.” Cornelia sighed. “And I must admit, there are times when I wonder how different my life might’ve been, had I chosen to go that route.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gil. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

  “O–oh?”

  Cornelia grabbed Lottie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe that’s why I traveled all the way to Colorado, to meet the man I’m supposed to marry. Do you think such a thing is really possible?”

  If it had been any of the other women asking, Lottie would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But Cornelia? The very girl Gil had his eye on?

  Choose your words carefully, Lottie.

  She released a slow breath. “Cornelia, I do believe God could bring a person from one side of the country to the other to meet someone special. It’s possible. When you follow His lead”—she swallowed hard—“anything’s possible.”

  “I feel the same way,” Cornelia whispered. “In my heart of hearts, I do.”

  Lottie fell silent, unable—and unwilling—to add more to this conversation. She’d lost Gil once to Winifred. Would she now lose him to the beautiful young woman seated to her left? The one with the lovely clothes and refined big-city manners?

  Fortunately, Cherry interrupted her thoughts. “What happens around here on Sunday?” she asked. “If we’re not going to start rehearsals until Monday, do we have a free day to do as we please?”

  Lottie shrugged. “Most everyone goes to church. Would…well, would you like to join us?”

  “I haven’t been to church in a month of Sundays.” Cherry laughed. “If I went, it might just be too much for the Lord to take.”

  “He can handle it.” Lottie grinned. “I daresay He’ll meet you there. At least, that’s where I always feel the closest to Him.”

  “Ooh, I don’t know how you could top this experience.” Cornelia gestured to the mountains. “This is the very spot where heaven and earth meet, and I’m standing here so close to God I can almost touch Him.”

  Lottie looked around at the ladies, remembering Mrs. Parker’s words: How good of the Lord to bring the world to me.

  “Being here is blissful, isn’t it?” Lottie said. “But I’ll make you all a promise…if you go to church with me and don’t feel this same, exhilarating feeling that you had on this mountain today, I won’t expect you to come again. Deal?”

  Cornelia shrugged. “If you say so. But I still say I’d rather worship right here.” She turned her gaze back to the mountain.

  Lottie’s thoughts shifted to the days ahead. With so much to do, so much to accomplish, someone needed to stay focused. And she could tell, judging from the way Gil stared at Cornelia, it certainly wasn’t going to be him.

  NINE

  MENACE IN THE MOUNTAINS

  Residents who auditioned for the upcoming melodrama at Parker Lodge are abuzz with excitement over the posting of the cast list, which will happen today at noon, just after morning service, at our local community church. Mum’s the word until then. We can share that the play has been completely revamped and the new script will be available at the first rehearsal on Monday evening. Our contest to rename the show is still in full swing. Phineas Craven has suggested Menace in the Mountains. Perhaps you have other thoughts. One thing is for sure—a full cast of quirky characters will cause the audience to laugh…and cry. Until then, what joy to share in a Sunday morning with our out-of-town guests. They are sure to love the welcome at Estes Park Community Church, where God’s love abounds and His grace extends to folks from all walks of life. —Your friends at Parker Lodge

  LOTTIE AWOKE EARLY on Sunday morning, so excited she could hardly stand it. She put on a dark blue dress and did her best to fuss with her unruly curls. For a moment she toyed with the idea of trimming them back a couple of inches but then remembered the way Gil gazed at Cornelia’s lovely long hair. With a sigh, she pulled her hair back with a green ribbon, one she carefully chose to match the color of her eyes.

  She arrived at the church at nine fifteen and entered the little chapel, her heart aflutter. Several of the women—Flossie, Fanny, Cornelia, Grace, Hannah, Margaret, and Prudy—arrived minutes later, followed by the low-cut trio, who all appeared in brightly colored dresses that left little to the imagination. Sharla slipped into a pew and said something about feeling faint. No doubt because of the tight corset under her bright green gown, one with a particularly snug waistline. Patricia’s garish red dress was embellished with ruffles and bows. And Cherry had been a bit heavy-handed with the rouge, perhaps. Sharla too, for that matter.

  By the expressions on their faces, some of the local women were a bit put off by their new guests. Maybe they would still provide a warm welcome in spite of first impressions. One could hope, anyw
ay.

  Instead of sitting with her parents, Lottie planted herself in the middle of the ladies. Might as well let folks know where she stood regarding their new guests. She received a few curious glances from the regulars, and Mama gave her a “What do you think you’re up to, Lottie-Lou?” look, but she focused on the hymnal.

  The preacher’s sermon on turning from a life of sin had Sharla squirming in her seat. She actually muttered a few words when he reached the part about the woman caught in the act of adultery. Lottie’s mother, who was seated in the pew in front of them, turned and glared at her with narrowed eyes.

  “What did I say?” Sharla whispered into Lottie’s ear. “That old bat glared at me like I was a sinner headed straight for the pit of hell.”

  Lottie sighed and then whispered her response. “That old bat was—is—my mother.”

  “Oops. Sorry.” Sharla let out a nervous giggle then faced front once more. Several times over the next few minutes she giggled again, her face turning red.

  The service moved forward as usual, though several of the locals—mostly the men—seemed intent on the new women. Not that Sharla and Cherry seemed to mind. They even winked at a couple of the fellas. Unfortunately, one of them happened to be Mr. Herridge, the local butcher, whose wife looked as if she might take off the ladies’ heads at any moment.

  By the time the final hymn was sung, Lottie felt as if they were all on display. And that feeling continued as the women convened in front of the church after service. Sharla and Cherry continued to giggle and say inappropriate things. Lottie squeezed her eyes shut and offered up a silent prayer that the local women would hold their peace.

  Unfortunately, they did not. Mama pulled her aside for an earful.

  Lottie listened for a few minutes but finally put her hand up. “Mama, wait. What are you saying? You think we were wrong to bring in actresses for the show? Is that it?”

  “I never said that.” Mama’s lips pursed. “Though many have said far worse than that.” She clucked her tongue. “Trust me when I say that tongues are wagging, and not in a good way. People are unhappy with the idea of so many single, unattached women roaming about.”