He looked around the room with a compassionate intensity, as if he cared about every single person there. “And so, on the eve of my fortieth birthday, I made a commitment to God. I would stop looking for my perfect match, and I would focus that energy on God instead. And as I made that commitment, I decided that I’d trust God to provide me with my soul mate when and if the time was right—and I would even trust him even if I never married.”
He paused again and smiled. “That was back before I became the pastor of this church. And although I have to admit there have been a few times when I’ve been doubtful about this commitment, times when I’ve felt lonely or sorry for myself, for the most part, I’ve felt nothing but fulfilled and complete with God’s perfect presence in my life.”
In closing, he challenged them all to do the same. That instead of looking for soul mates, they should be looking for God to fill their souls. And everyone clapped when he finished.
Daphne couldn’t help but notice, as soon as it was time to mingle and have refreshments, the flirting started right back up. Perhaps this was a message only a few could really absorb. But Daphne felt like some of it had slipped inside of her . . . and perhaps it would take root in time. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to turn forty before she figured it all out.
On Monday morning, Willie showed up to paint the crown molding that had been missed. And while he was working, Jake called Daphne to discuss the Dear Daphne column. “Again, your answers all look very good, very compelling, but there is one particular letter . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if you really want it sent out to the syndicates. It’s from Hopeless on Huckleberry Lane.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh dear! You didn’t get my e-mail warning you not to read that one? That was a fake letter and response.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping it was a mistake. Or else you might want to change the Huckleberry Lane part. Not that anyone would figure it out, necessarily.”
“No, please delete that one. I don’t want it printed.”
“It’s done.”
“I’m glad you noticed. I’ll be more careful in the future.” Now she confessed to how she used to write fictional wedding announcements occasionally, just to pass the time. “But I never actually sent one to my editor.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that Daphne Delacorte created a rather intelligent response to that particular letter. I really liked the analogy of the broken arm healing up stronger. In fact, it’s a shame we can’t run those letters. It’s a message some people need to hear.”
“Well, maybe I’ll get a chance to use the response with someone else’s letter. I’ll save it.”
“Good idea. And while we’re on this topic, I’ve been wondering how it turned out with you and Ryan. I don’t want to be too nosy or be accused of acting like the enforcer. But as your friend, I’m curious.”
“The truth is, I haven’t heard from him,” she admitted.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. At first I was pretty mad about it. Then I got worried. But now I’m just moving on. Not really thinking about it.”
“So if he’d shown up . . . or if he still does, which I’m guessing he will, what was your answer going to be?”
“I was going to tell him no thank you and then wish him well.”
There was a long pause. “I think you made the right choice.”
“I think my aunt would agree with you on that.”
He excused himself saying he had a client coming in, and as she hung up, Mick’s green truck pulled into her driveway. Smiling to herself to think of how many single men seemed to be coming and going throughout her world, she poured Mick and herself a cup of coffee and went out to greet him.
They visited for a while and he, too, inquired as to what had become of Ryan. Like Jake, Mick seemed relieved that Ryan had pulled a disappearing act. And Daphne assured him that she agreed it was for the best. “Although it was pretty aggravating.”
“Better to be aggravated for a few days than miserable for the rest of your life.” He handed her back his empty cup.
She laughed. “You got that right.”
But as she was rinsing the cups in the sink, she noticed another nondescript sort of car pulling up in front of the house. It had the look of a rental car and, sure enough, Ryan was getting out of it. Stretching as if he’d had a long drive, he looked hopefully over to the house, and seeing her watching him out the kitchen window, he waved.
She went to the front door, stepping carefully over the drop cloth Willie had placed to protect the floor. “My apologies for the conversation you are about to hear,” she called up to where Willie was perched on the ladder. “But Ryan’s here and I’m about to send him packing.”
Willie chuckled. “Good for you, Daphne. And if you have any problem with him, I’m happy to come down there and give you a hand. You’re way too good for that young man.”
Just then the doorbell rang and Daphne opened it with a stiff smile. “Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said as he stepped inside. He glanced at the painting stuff and frowned. “Having it repainted already?”
“No. Willie just had a little finishing up to do.”
Ryan looked up at Willie but didn’t even say hello.
“Come into the front room,” Daphne said as she led the way.
“Anyway, I was on assignment and it went on longer than I expected. I thought about calling to explain, but I really wanted to have this conversation face-to-face.” Ryan smiled at her. “I missed you, Daphne.”
She sat on the club chair, trying to think of a way to cut this short. “Have a seat,” she offered. But he remained standing. “Or not.”
“Daphne . . . before you answer, I want to ask you again. I want to do it better this time.” And now he got down on one knee. “Daphne Ballinger, I love you. I have loved you for more than ten long years. I will always love you.” He reached into his jacket pocket, removed a blue velvet box, and slowly opened it to reveal a very large diamond. “Daphne, will you marry me?”
Despite her best resolve, Daphne leaned over to peer at the diamond. “Wow, that’s big.”
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
She reached out and pushed the lid of the little box, closing it with a snap. “No, Ryan. I’m sorry, but the answer is no. I can’t marry you.”
Ryan slowly stood, gazing down at her with a wounded expression. “Why not?”
She pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”
Without arguing, he went over and sat.
“If you had asked me to marry you ten years ago and if you hadn’t been married, I would’ve said yes.”
“Then why not now?”
“Because now I know better. You and I don’t belong together, Ryan. You’ll find someone who will be just right for you. But that’s not me.”
“But you loved me once, Daphne. I know you did. Why don’t you love me now?”
She pressed her lips together, trying to understand him. And then a question that had been silently nagging her rose to the surface. “How did you find me here in Appleton?”
“Find you?”
“How did you know I’d moved back here?”
“Oh, that. Like I told you. I was at The Times interviewing for a job there. And I talked to Fiona. And she told me everything.”
“Everything?” Suddenly Daphne remembered her own conversation with Fiona. She remembered in detail how she had stupidly bragged about inheriting her aunt’s small fortune. It had been her way of feeling better about herself after Amelia had hurt her feelings.
“You know, that you were living here and that your aunt had died.” He looked uneasy.
“And that I’d inherited a lot of money?”
He
shrugged. “I don’t remember that specifically.”
“Well, I did tell Fiona I had inherited a lot. I’d actually bragged to her about it.” She shook her head sadly.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He smiled again. “Why shouldn’t you be happy about an inheritance?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“What’s not true?” He tilted his head to one side.
“I haven’t inherited a single cent, Ryan.”
He looked confused. “So . . . what’s all this then? Why do you have this house? And that car? And you’re not working . . . and yet you’ve made all these costly improvements.” He pointed toward the foyer. “Right now a guy’s up there painting. And there’s another one out working in your yard. How can you afford to pay these dudes if you haven’t inherited some money?”
“My aunt’s estate covers all the household expenses. But only for a year.” Lucy hopped up into her lap now, purring as she rubbed her head against Daphne’s wrist.
“Only for a year?” Ryan frowned. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s the conditions of my aunt’s will.” She stroked the cat. “After a year . . .” She shrugged. “Well, unless there’s some kind of miracle, which seems unlikely, everything will be turned over to a nonprofit organization my aunt has designated in her will.”
“So you expect me to believe you only have this for a year?” He stood now, pacing as if he was anxious to leave. “And then that’s it?”
“That’s right. My aunt has generously given me the use of her possessions for a year. But I’m not allowed to sell anything or profit from it. My year will end in mid-May next year.” She smiled. “To be honest, I was kind of miffed at first. But it’s actually been like a much-needed vacation and I’m enjoying it.”
Ryan ran his hand through his hair, an old frustrated gesture she’d nearly forgotten. But she could tell he felt cornered.
“So you see . . .”—she nudged Lucy onto the ottoman and stood, folding her arms across her front—“all this effort you’ve made, all this crazed talk of love and marriage, well, it was all for nothing, wasn’t it?” She gave him a knowing look. “This game you’ve been playing with me . . . looks like you lost, Ryan.”
His expression was a mixture of confusion and guilt, just like the little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. “But it just doesn’t make sense. There’s something you’re not telling me. I know it.” He pocketed the blue velvet box.
“Anyway, I won’t keep you.” She walked toward the door. “I’m sure you have places to go, people to see, the day is still young.”
“I know what you’re thinking about me,” he said sharply. “But you’re wrong, Daphne. Dead wrong. I proposed to you because I loved you.”
“Really? So what if I’ll be penniless and jobless and homeless next year? Do you still want to marry me now? And would you continue to support me and take care of me, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death we do part?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Acting like what?” She paused by the door. “I’m simply talking about what we should expect in a marriage. Isn’t that what we were talking about? Or have you changed your mind about marriage?”
“You’re delusional,” he growled. “And impossible.”
She just nodded, opening the door for him.
“I came here to help you, Daphne. But why should I care if you turn out to be an old maid just like your pathetic old aunt?”
“And that just shows how totally clueless you are, Ryan.” She wanted to add, “And don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” but controlled herself. However, she did shut it a bit more firmly than necessary, causing the leaded glass to rattle. Then she whisked her hands back and forth together as if slapping the dust from them. “Good riddance.”
From up on the ladder, Willie clapped. “Bravo, Daphne. Good show. Really good show.”
She jumped. “Oh! I nearly forgot you were up there, Willie. But at least I’d forewarned you. My apologies.”
“And I’m sorry to have enjoyed that so much.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I was kind of a captive audience. And you really did handle that nicely, Daphne. My hat’s off to you.”
She thanked him, then still feeling a little shaky but stronger than ever before, she went into her office and closed the door. She sat in her office chair and bowed her head, trying to remember Pastor Andrew’s words about trusting God with her marital status.
As she prayed, she knew she wanted to trust God. She wanted to give up on this frenzied pursuit of a husband. But at the same time she was human. Very human. And she suspected her transformation wouldn’t be instant. As much as she would like it to happen overnight, she had a strong feeling it would be a process. One little step at a time.
But sending Ryan on his way had been a good first step. A baby step of faith.
Chapter 25
On the Fourth of July, Daphne felt refreshingly independent. She was well aware that her unexpected sense of liberation had started with the rejection of Ryan’s phony-baloney marriage proposal. Since that angst-filled morning, she had grown stronger and freer and more confident each day. And after making the decision to trust God for her future, whether or not she found her soul mate, she felt much more at peace too.
This new attitude seemed to permeate all areas of her life now, enabling her to truly enjoy even the simplest of pleasures. Whether it was rising early and slipping outside to watch the sunrise. Or riding her bike to Dad’s condo and helping him unpack and organize. Or strolling through town and taking time to stop and visit with friends. Or picking a cherry tomato from her lovely garden and popping it right into her mouth and savoring the sweetness. It seemed that after so many years of barely existing, Daphne was finally truly living.
The best part of all this was that Daphne now believed that with or without her aunt’s inheritance, she was going to be just fine. She just hoped that as her year in paradise drew to an end, about ten months from now, she would feel the same. She prayed she would.
“I can tell you’re happy to be rid of Ryan,” Olivia told Daphne as they sat on Daphne’s front porch, sipping lemonade. Olivia had come over early to help get things ready for the July Fourth barbecue Daphne was hosting later in the day. But with most of the preparations done, they had decided to take a break. “I’m still feeling bummed that we don’t get to have a wedding. I was imagining it in September, using autumnal-colored flowers.”
Daphne laughed as she skimmed down the list she’d made for today’s preparations, crossing off what they’d accomplished and circling what was still needing to be done. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Olivia. But I know you wouldn’t have wanted me to marry Ryan just so you could help throw a beautiful wedding.”
Olivia’s mouth twisted to one side, as if she wasn’t so sure. “I do want you to be happy. But I don’t see why your happiness couldn’t include a wedding. I mean, eventually. Is that too much to ask?”
“Aren’t you getting the cart ahead of the horse?” Daphne asked. “Planning a wedding before there’s even a man in the picture? Sounds a little backward to me.”
“I don’t know. I remember hearing about this woman who had her wedding all planned out, even before she knew who she was going to marry.”
“Well, that’s just plain crazy.” Daphne took a sip of lemonade and looked out to the pair of American flags she’d hung from her porch. Very festive.
“This gal had picked the date, bought the dress, reserved the church, had her bridesmaids all set, you know, the whole nine yards. She’d even ordered her cake and flowers, and those are perishable.”
“Seriously? Had she sent out invitations too?” Daphne was imagining a sad bride with a church full of guests and no groom.
“I think she’d picked the invitatio
ns out. So anyway, just one month before her wedding date, she meets Mr. Right, and just like clockwork, he proposes and they have her dream wedding just like she planned—on the very same date. Can you believe it?”
“Not really.” Daphne gave her a skeptical look. “So how did the marriage turn out? Are they still together?”
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe the marriage only lasted a month,” Daphne said in a teasing tone. “And maybe the bride had her divorce date all set as well.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps you should do some research and find out.”
Olivia chuckled. “Maybe I will.”
“And I would greatly appreciate it if we could put any wedding plans for me to rest.” Daphne smiled at her.
“Okay. Well, at least until we find Mr. Right. And even though I can admit that Ryan was most definitely not Mr. Right, you don’t have to give up. And neither do I.”
“What do you mean?”
“This town is crawling with Mr. Rights.” Olivia got a mischievous look as she snatched the notebook from Daphne. “In fact, I think I’ll make a list.” She tore off Daphne’s to-do list and handed it to her.
Daphne rolled her eyes, then downed the last of her lemonade and held the paper in the air. “While you’re wasting your time on that list, I’m going to finish the tasks on this one.”
Daphne returned to the kitchen, removed the hard-boiled eggs from the fridge, and began peeling them to make deviled eggs. Aunt Dee used to say that the Fourth of July was not the Fourth of July without deviled eggs. And Daphne had to agree with her.
She was just starting to fill the empty egg-white halves when Olivia came back to the kitchen, waving her tablet victoriously. “I think our prospects of having a wedding are quite good.”
Daphne just shook her head, keeping her focus on squeezing the yolk filling into the white ovals.
Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel Page 25