Wedding Belles

by Janice Hanna

  She approached the table and took a seat next to him. “In spite of everything we’ve been through up till now, I have such hope,” she said and then smiled.

  “Me too.” A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered the kiss he’d stolen from her. Oh, he wasn’t sorry for it. Not really. Just sorry that he’d been so mixed up about it after the fact.

  Lottie shared about the various romantic unions taking place around them. He didn’t correct her when she reported that Augie had his eye on Margaret Linden. No point in stirring up more gossip. When she paused, he happened to catch a glimpse of Flossie. Something about her seemed different. Had Lottie noticed it too?

  “All right, I just have to come out and say it,” he finally managed.

  “Say what?”

  “Flossie.” He glanced at the woman, who sat next to Phineas, laughing and talking. “She looks—”

  “Younger?”

  “Yes!” He turned to Lottie, stunned. “You’ve noticed it too. I thought maybe it was just me. Don’t you remember what she looked like when she got here? I thought she was much older.”

  “I remember one of the fellas guessing she was a hundred and three.”

  Gilbert chuckled at the memory. “It’s the strangest thing. Looking at her tonight, I would say she’s dropped several years.”

  “I agree.”

  “And this might sound crazy, but she doesn’t seem as wrinkled.”

  Lottie nodded. “I have a theory about that. She’s not as tense. When she got here, she was wound up tighter than a clock. These days she’s more relaxed. When you’re anxious, it shows in your face. When you’re relaxed, your whole countenance changes.”

  “Guess she’s relaxed, then.”

  Sure enough, Flossie let out a little giggle, one that had Phineas turning red in the face.

  “Wonder what’s up with those two,” Gilbert said.

  “I don’t know. But if you’d told me in the beginning that Phineas and Flossie would eventually see something in each other, I would’ve said you were crazy.” Lottie grinned. “Sometimes the Lord has a plan we can’t see.”

  “Yes.” Suddenly Gilbert felt that same attraction to Lottie as the morning he’d kissed her. “Sometimes He does. Maybe we’re just too busy or too distracted to notice.”

  “Yes.” She gazed into his eyes, and his heart skipped to double time.

  Just then Winifred came up to them, giggling. “Gil, you’ve got to come and see Cornelia’s costume for the play. It’s simply divine.” Winifred took him by the arm and pulled him up out of his chair. “You don’t mind, do you, Lottie?”

  “Oh, I…” She looked disappointed but didn’t stop them.

  Gilbert felt a strange reluctance at leaving her seated at the table without him. What right did Winifred have, interrupting their private conversation? Then again, he’d never been very good at turning her away, had he?

  Until tonight.

  “Winnie, if you don’t mind, Lottie and I were in the middle of something. We’ll have to talk later.”

  Winnie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she turned with a huff and headed back across the room to Cornelia.

  Gilbert reached for Lottie’s hand. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Gil, I’m just so happy. Everything’s going right for a change.”

  Yes, everything was going right. And Gilbert couldn’t help but think that things were only going to get better from here.

  SEVENTEEN

  HOT DAMES, COLD HEARTS

  Folks, Alice Well down at Parker Lodge. No, you didn’t read that wrong. Alice Well is the name of one of the characters in our upcoming melodrama. She will be joined by our villain, Earl E. Bird, played by Augie Miller, who—according to our sources—has announced his run for mayor in the upcoming election. We at Parker Lodge find this news Justin Credible. Oops. There we go again, introducing you to yet another character in our show. We try to keep things light here at the lodge, where rehearsals are in full swing. In fact, things are going so well that we will begin selling tickets for the show just one week from today. So save your nickels and dimes! We don’t want you to come Penny Less. Oops. There we go again! Guess you’ll just have to c’mon out to the show to meet these folks in person. —Your friends at Parker Lodge

  ON MONDAY MORNING Lottie awoke in a blissful state. After last night’s meeting, she could hardly wait to get to work. With all of her cast members linking arms, the show would be a rousing success and the lodge would be saved. And with Gil’s hand in hers, they would prove that true love could win out, no matter the bumps and bruises along the way.

  Her happy frame of mind lasted all the way to the lodge, where she found Mrs. Parker and Hannah baking up a storm in the kitchen. Lottie’s smile widened even more when Gilbert walked in and gave her a cheerful “G’morning!” Indeed. It was a good morning. And nothing—and/or no one—could change that. This morning she held the world on a string.

  “Oh, Lottie, I almost forgot…” Mrs. Parker reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “The postman came by early this morning to deliver something for you.”

  “For me? Here at the lodge?”

  “Yes. Look, honey.” She pointed at the envelope. “It’s from Denver. A Mr. Gerald Jefferson. Does that name sound familiar?”

  “Not at all.” Lottie reached for the envelope, fingering the expensive paper for a moment.

  “It’s addressed to Miss Lottie Sanders, director of Predicament at Parker Lodge, so it must be for you,” Mrs. Parker said. “Open it, honey.”

  Lottie gingerly opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. She didn’t recognize the handwriting at all, but she was quickly caught up in the message of the letter.

  Gilbert leaned in close. “What does it say?”

  The letter trembled in her hands as she read. “Oh, no. Oh, no!” Her stomach churned as she absorbed the note; then the paper fluttered out of her hand and drifted to the floor. She plopped into a chair and began to fan herself with the envelope. “This is terrible news. Terrible.”

  “Did someone die?” Gilbert took her hand.

  “Only our show. Our reputation. Our…everything.” Lottie leaned forward, her forehead dropping to the table.

  As Gilbert reached down and snagged the letter, she looked up. He scanned it then shrugged. “Lottie, this isn’t terrible news. A famous theater critic wants to come see our show. All the way from Denver, no less. Why, this could be the best thing that’s happened to us. Think of the promotion we’ll get in the Denver paper.”

  “Best thing?” She groaned. “I doubt it. This man has the capability of putting an end to our show before it even kicks off.” She hated to state the obvious but had no choice. “Gil, have you been at the same rehearsals I’ve been to? Sure, the women are doing a great job, but…the men? They’re lacking in so many ways.” She paused to think about Jeb’s latest attempt then shuddered. “All we need is for some big-name reporter to sweep in here and do a write-up blasting our show. We’ll close that same night.”

  “What?” Flossie’s voice rang out as she came into the kitchen. “Did you say a critic is coming?”

  “Yes.” Lottie groaned. “A Mr. Gerald Jefferson from the news-paper in Denver. I’ll have to ask Winnie about him, but it sounds like he reviews most of the big shows in Denver theaters.”

  “Hmm.” Flossie frowned.

  “What are we going to do if the show opens to poor reviews? We’re—we’re…we’re ruined!”

  Lottie dissolved into tears, and Gilbert patted her on the back. “Hold your horses, Lottie. No one said anything about being ruined.”

  “They didn’t have to. I can sense it…” She pointed to her midsection. “Right here, in my gut.”

  “What happened to all that positive thinking from last night?” he asked. “When we left here, we agreed to trust God to work out the details. He’s the one who’s going to save this show, not us. And if
He’s for us, as Flossie reminded us last night, who can be against us?”

  “It’s true. I did say that,” Flossie acknowledged. “Though, I must confess I’m a bit worried about the quality of acting, so it is a little disconcerting that a theater critic is headed our way.” She looked at them. “I know that a lot of the men said they could act—and we’ve been really patient with them as they’ve fumbled their way through their lines—but maybe it’s time to require more of them.”

  “They’re so kind to take on acting roles in the first place,” Lottie said. “I just don’t know how it would make them feel to be demanding. They’re not benefiting in any way from being in this show.”

  Flossie quirked a brow. “I daresay they are benefiting. Being in this show has put them in the company of many a fine woman. And they’re having the time of their lives. That much is clear. So, requiring more of them isn’t asking too much. Their acting skills are lacking, at best. Jeb is the poorest in the bunch, but Phineas isn’t far behind him.” She reached down to grab a cookie from the tray.

  “Doesn’t take a trained eye to see that Jeb Otis is no actor,” Gilbert threw in. “But he’s doing his level best.”

  “Yes, but we have a paying audience,” Lottie reminded him. “I mean, in theory we have a paying audience. No one has actually purchased any tickets yet, and that has me very nervous.”

  Now Gilbert looked nervous too. “I see your point.”

  “And if this theater critic shows up on the very first night, as this letter suggests, we’ll be doomed.” She leaned her elbows on the table, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. So much for taking her hands off and giving this situation to God.

  “Not doomed, Lottie.” Gilbert sat across from her. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  His words pinched. “Someone has to be,” she said.

  Flossie squared her shoulders. “This is a matter for prayer, and I, for one, promise to hit my knees. Just as soon as I have a little chat with Phineas and Jeb.”

  “A chat?” Lottie and Gil spoke in unison.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind. I think I’m the right person for the task, because of my many years in the theater. I can encourage them to take their acting more seriously. If I word things carefully, they won’t be wounded.”

  “You don’t mind?” Lottie asked.

  “Not a bit. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to give this speech.” She smiled. “And besides, I daresay Phineas will do as I ask. He’s, well, he’s…” Her words drifted off as her cheeks remained the loveliest shade of pink.

  “Yes, he is.” For the first time since opening the letter, Lottie smiled. “He’s a great fella, Flossie, and I think you’re right. He’ll listen to you. And you can give him some special acting lessons on the side.”

  “I think he’ll enjoy the extra attention from you, to be honest.” Gil laughed. “So I doubt you’ll hear any complaints.”

  “Hope not. But I’ll say a little prayer just in case.” Flossie gave them a little wave.

  No point in worrying about spilled milk, as Mama always said. Surely by the time the show kicked off the first weekend in August, the fellas’ acting would improve.

  Lottie only hoped they kept their acting to the stage between now and then.

  * * * * *

  GILBERT SPENT THE MORNING working on set pieces for the melodrama. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand, now that he knew a theater critic would be analyzing his work. No shoddy craftsmanship here. Of course, with Chauncy at his side, there was little chance of that. They worked together to build a backdrop for the first scene, Chauncy chattering all the while about Grace.

  “Looks like you two are getting along well.” Gilbert couldn’t help but smile.

  “Yep. This whole plan of bringing in brides is working out better than we hoped. I think Phineas is sweet on Flossie.”

  “I’ve noticed that.” Gilbert laid down his hammer and stepped back to analyze his work. “And it’s clear Fanny and Jeb are cozying up to each other, as well.”

  “Yep.” Chauncy pieced together a couple of two-by-fours and reached for the bucket of nails. He put several in his teeth then spoke around them. “Ain’t quite figured out who Augie’s got in mind. That uppity Margaret gal is just his type, though.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Gilbert took his hammer in hand again. “He’s been singing another lady’s praises, as well.”

  “Oh, who’s that?”

  Before Gilbert could respond, Flossie came flying into the room, her face pale. Lottie followed directly behind with a group of women after her, all looking distraught. Gilbert stopped his work to listen.

  “What’s wrong?” Lottie placed her hand on Flossie’s arm. “Has something happened?”

  “Something has happened, all right.” Flossie’s face contorted. “Only, I think you know all about it.” She looked at the men, her eyes narrowing. “All of you.”

  “Know all about it?” Lottie looked alarmed, and Gilbert didn’t blame her. “What do you mean?”

  By now the other women had joined them, all talking at once. Gilbert could hardly make sense of it. Well, until Fanny’s voice rang out.

  “We know, Lottie.” Fanny placed her balled-up fists on her hips. “Flossie told us.”

  “Everything,” Margaret added.

  “Yes, absolutely everything,” Cornelia said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Once again the women’s emotional voices began to layer, one on top of the other.

  Unnerved, Gilbert laid down his hammer and took a few steps in their direction, though he had a feeling he would end up regretting it.

  “Let me just ask you a question.” Flossie took over now, her gaze shifting back and forth between Gilbert and Lottie. “Were we brought here”—she gestured to the room full of women—“to marry the single men of Estes Park?”

  “Uh-oh.” Chauncy spit out his mouthful of nails, which hit the floor plinking and plunking. Instead of picking them up, he skedaddled out of the room.

  Coward.

  Gilbert wished he could do the same, of course, and all the more when he stared into the angry eyes of nearly a dozen women.

  “Are we nothing more than a bunch of mail-order brides?” Flossie asked. “Is that what this is?”

  “Wh–who told you such a thing?” Lottie looked as if she might be sick.

  “Phineas.” Flossie dropped into a chair and shook her head. “I went over to his place to talk to him about his acting skills, and things got ugly.”

  “Ugly?” Gilbert pulled out a chair and sat next to her. “What do you mean?”

  “I guess he didn’t take to my critique of his acting.” Her expression tightened. “Though, I did my best to explain about the critic coming and all.”

  “There’s a critic coming to see our show?” Margaret asked. “A professional one?” When Flossie nodded, she dropped into a chair and muttered, “Oh no!”

  “What about Phineas?” Gilbert asked, his heart in his throat. “What did he say after that?”

  “He got good and mad about my critique of his acting. He said he worked hard to get the ladies here and deserved better. I asked him what he meant when he said he worked hard to get us here.”

  “Oh dear.” Now Lottie dropped into a seat and leaned her forehead on the table.

  “And he said…?” Gilbert felt his jaw twitching as he anticipated Flossie’s next words.

  “He said that he’d paid good money to bring us all here and hadn’t gotten his money’s worth.”

  Tell me he didn’t.

  A gasp went up from the ladies. They gathered around the table in a cluster.

  “Lottie? Gilbert?” Fanny looked back and forth between them. “Something you want to tell us?”

  “Yes, tell us the truth, Lottie.” Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “Was this whole thing some sort of hoax? Were we brought here under false pretenses?”

  “You two have a lot to answer for.” Fanny waggle
d her finger back and forth. “If even half of what Flossie says is true, then we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Lottie lifted her head, lashes damp. “I can’t deny that the men have always hoped they would find wives from the group of women,” she said. “But I can assure you, the idea of putting on a melodrama to raise funds for the lodge has always been the chief plan, though the men had other ideas. From the start I told them not to make assumptions, but you know how they are. They’re anxious to marry.”

  Gilbert cleared his throat and the women all looked his way. His gaze shifted downward.

  “Well, not anymore,” Flossie said with the wave of a hand. “After the discussion I just had with Phineas, I daresay he will never marry. If his display of temper was any indication of his true personality, I don’t know a woman who would put up with him. Especially not a strong woman like me.”

  “I didn’t come to Colorado to get married.” Cherry’s eyes grew wide. “I came to do a show. Plain and simple.”

  “Wait a minute…” Sharla snapped her fingers. “Is this why the ladies in that Women’s League think we’re—we’re…” Her face tightened. “You know.” Another pause followed. “Do they think that of us because we were brought here for the men from the very beginning? In other words, do they know that the men paid money for us?”

  Gilbert had just opened his mouth to respond when Grace interjected her thoughts on the matter.

  “Well, they can lay those hopes to rest,” she said, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Any thoughts I might’ve had about letting Chauncy court me just flew out the window.”

  “Same here,” Fanny said. “If I’d known for a minute that Jeb had paid some sort of price for a mail-order bride, I would never have considered him.”

  Lottie groaned. “Honestly, ladies, it’s not like that. And no, you’re not mail-order brides. As I said, the men were just hopeful you might take an interest in them.”