A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn (7 page)

“Emma, can I help you?”

Before she could answer, somehow, some way, Frankie shoved himself under a very small gap under the fence, leaving only a cloud of dust. And Emma's groan.

“Uh-oh!” Annie cried. “Mommy, Frankie has found Serena!”

“He certainly has,” Emma said under her breath.

As soon as Emma opened the gate, she and her three little girls scampered through, William on their heels. Jay followed as well. He was happy to help, though he wasn't sure how good he was going to be capturing a wayward cat or an excited beagle.

By the time he'd gotten through the gate, around the side
of the house, and reached the middle of Emma's front yard, he didn't know whether to laugh or take charge of the situation.

Serena was about halfway up the tree and hissing angrily. Frankie had his front paws on the trunk, howling his displeasure. The girls were all calling for Frankie and Serena. And his boy? William was swinging from the bottom limb of the tree, on his way up.

“I'm gonna go save Serena, Daed!” he yelled. “I can climb trees real good, right?”

William also happened to be mighty good at falling out of trees. But before Jay could stop him, his son was on the next limb.

“Serena, come here!” his boy yelled again.

As William climbed, Frankie barked and howled. Serena taunted Frankie from her tree limb with a haughty flick of her tail, and Emma's little girls squealed, called for Serena, and egged William on—somehow all at the same time. Emma was standing a bit off to the side. Her arms were folded and she looked as if she'd been part of this scenario more than once or twice.

Jay couldn't help it, he started laughing.

To his pleasure, Emma began chuckling, too. “It seems that things have gotten out of hand yet again,
jah?
”

“
Jah
. Do you care if William is climbing your tree?”

“That's what they're there for. Ain't so?” she asked as she walked over and grabbed Frankie's collar. “Come here, you silly
hund
. Won't you ever learn that that cat lives to tease you?”

Frankie simply sat down and gazed at Emma with big, sad brown eyes.

“Oh, Frankie.” She gave the dog a quick hug. “What am I going to do with you?” she murmured before walking him over to the girls.

Looking up at the tree, Jay called out to William. “Come on
down, son. I'll get the cat.”

“
Nee
. I got it, Daed,” William said as he reached for Serena.

Serena meowed her protest, throwing in a hiss and a paw swipe for good measure. Looking alarmed, William jerked back. It seemed the cat thought she was a fierce lion or tiger instead of a plain gray house cat. Then Serena flicked her tail, gave him a superior feline sniff, and at last leapt from her branch to the ground. Seconds later, she was out of sight.

“She scratch you, son?” Jay called.

“
Nee
, but I lost her.” William moaned.

Jay was just about to go offer him a hand out of the tree, but Emma got there first. “That cat is a wily one, William. She's confounded a great many people before you, I'm afraid. Can you get down all right?”

“Yep.” Looking almost catlike himself, William swung down and landed on the ground. “That was fun. Daed, can we come again real soon?”

After sharing a smile with Emma, Jay asked, “What do you think about coming over here a couple of afternoons a week to do homework?”

“Really?”

“
Jah
. Emma said you can stay with her and the girls, then either Ben or I will come get you.”

William looked up at Emma. “That's okay with you?”

Emma nodded. “It's more than okay,” she said softly. “I'd like to spend time with you, William.”

When William smiled and his eyes lit with something that looked a whole lot like hope, Jay knew that he'd reached a turning point with his youngest. William might not be done grieving for his mother—that might not happen for a very long time—but it seemed as if he'd at last shed some of the sadness that he'd
been wearing like an ill-fitting shirt.

The whole way home on the SCAT, as William told Jay about his day at school, the new friends he was making, and how much he wanted a dog just like Frankie, Jay smiled.

Well, until that very last part. “I don't think there's too many dogs like Frankie, son,” he said through a chuckle. “Come to think of it, I think one Frankie in Pinecraft might just be all any of us can handle.”

S
ince Tuesday, Beverly had started making sure she was in the kitchen between ten and noon every day. That was the time Eric would phone, if he had time to give her a call.

In earlier conversations he'd explained that he usually took care of business in the mornings. It seemed he had all kinds of paperwork in his line of work. Lately, if he found that he needed a break around midmorning, he would pick up the phone just to check in.

It hadn't happened every day this week, but instead of feeling frustrated by the uncertainty of his calls, Beverly found herself enjoying the element of surprise. She actually kind of liked waking up in the morning and wondering if she was going to hear from Eric that day. After spending her first three years in Pinecraft making sure that everything was just so with the inn, she found herself enjoying the spontaneity of their relationship like few other things she'd known.

But as much as she looked forward to chatting with him, his phone calls didn't make or break her days. If he called and they talked for a while, it made her happy. If he didn't have time to call and she was forced to wait another day or two to hear his voice, she found that suited her, too.

Little by little, she'd stopped spending her late-morning hours preparing rooms and dusting. She did that first thing, or even had Tricia tend to the rooms when people checked out at eleven, as she was doing today. That suited Tricia fine because most of the guests tipped and Beverly allowed her to keep the tip money.

It also ensured that Beverly would have the kitchen to herself if Eric called.

In fact, Eric's calls were also why she had begun baking in the morning. Beverly had just rolled out the yeast dough for a fresh batch of caramel-pecan cinnamon rolls when the phone rang. After quickly wiping her hands with one of her favorite dishrags—one that was made from an old flour sack—she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“It took you three rings this morning,” Eric teased. “You must have had your hands in soapy water.”

She laughed. “My fingers were in something far better than that. Flour! I had to wipe them off so I wouldn't get dough all over the phone. That wouldn't do.”

“Makes sense. What are you making today?”

She could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Caramel-pecan rolls.”

“Oh, Bev,” he said with a groan. “You're killing me. I haven't had anything that good to eat in days.”

“Oh? What have you been eating?”

“Hmm. I had two slices of leftover pizza this morning.”

He sounded so grumpy about it, she laughed. And because she knew him to be extremely capable, she said, “Eric, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I do believe they have milk, fruit, toast, and eggs in Pennsylvania, too. You need to take advantage of your markets instead of just the pizza delivery service.”

“Having a bowl of cereal and a banana while standing at the kitchen counter isn't the same as enjoying a plate of your caramel rolls, Beverly.”

“This is true. But look on the bright side. If you ate homemade caramel rolls every morning you wouldn't think they were special anymore.”

“I doubt that. Your baking is that good.”

She smiled at his compliment. He wasn't the first person to compliment her baked goods, but for some reason, his enthusiasm for her cooking made her feel especially good inside. Like she could do something pretty special.

Feeling a little flustered about the direction of her thoughts, she moved the conversation forward. “It's your turn. Tell me how things are going. Have you had any showings this week?”

“Two.”

He didn't sound very happy about that. “Two is
gut
,
jah?
”

“Well, two is better than none.”

“Tell me what they said. Is anyone coming back?”

“Maybe one of them.”

As Eric told her about the showings and then described the Realtor's reports, she tucked the phone under her chin, sprinkled the nut-and-cinnamon-sugar mixture on the dough, then easily rolled it into a loaf. It would rest for another forty minutes, then she'd slice it and place it into some prepared baking dishes.

She found conversation with Eric so easy. She liked how she
could do something simple while speaking to him on the phone. It seemed to make every task in her kitchen go faster.

“Do you have any more showings scheduled?”

“Not yet.” He paused. When he spoke again, it was with a new thread of apprehension. “I wish I knew what was going to happen. I hate not being able to make plans. I hate not knowing when we're going to see each other again. Bev, I'm afraid it really is out of my hands.”

“Of course it is. ‘This God is our God forever and ever. He will guide us from now on,'” she quoted from Psalms.

“Those words are so true.”

“Always,” she said, looking around her cozy, bright kitchen that smelled of fresh bread and coffee and caramel. Who would have thought three years ago, when her heart had been broken from a failed engagement, that she was to have so many blessings in her life?

“I guess I need to keep remembering that my future is ultimately in the Lord's hands.”

“It would be a good idea, I think.” And just so he wouldn't think that she was too full of herself, she added, “Don't forget, I had to learn this lesson, too.”

“I'll try my best. Though it is hard. I am really getting tired of waiting.”

She walked to the window and looked out into the backyard, thinking how pretty the flowers and shrubs looked after she'd weeded and trimmed everything the afternoon before. She also couldn't help but remember how content Eric had looked when he'd sat next to those beds and read his paper in the early-morning hours.

And how much she'd enjoyed seeing him there.

After a short pause, Eric spoke again, his voice sounding slightly thick with emotion. “Now, tell me about Tricia. Is she still seeing that young man?”

“Boy, is she.” Turning away from the window, Beverly quickly peeked through the kitchen's doorway. “I'm starting to worry about her.”

“Why?” Sounding more agitated, he added, “What's wrong with the guy? I thought you said he seemed nice.”

“Ben is nice. Well, so far, he has been. It's just that, well . . . this relationship of hers is moving kind of fast.”

“I didn't think you saw anything wrong with that.”

“I didn't . . . when I thought they weren't too serious. But the other day, I was sure I heard Tricia talking to a friend about marriage.”

“Surely a lot of girls her age talk about getting married someday.”

“I agree, but she didn't sound like she was dreaming about one day in the future. It sounded far more serious than that. Eric, I fear she's going to get hurt.”

“I can see how you would feel like that,” he said quietly. “Have you talked to her about it?”

His question soothed her because he was taking her seriously. She so appreciated that he wasn't making light of her concerns.

“Beverly, you there?” he prompted.

“
Nee
. I haven't talked to her.” Thinking again, she amended her words. “I mean, not really.”

“Why not?”

She thought the answer was rather obvious. “Because I'm not her mother, that's why. It's not my place.”

“Bev.”

By now she knew exactly what that one word meant coming
from Eric: It was both a reminder about her responsibility toward Tricia and a subtle hint that she had something important to offer. “I don't want to overstep my bounds.”

“If she was worried about that, she would have never moved to Sarasota to live with you.”

He did have a point. But, still . . . “What if I say the wrong thing?” she blurted.

“Then you'll say the wrong thing, apologize, and try to say the right thing. Tricia doesn't need you to be perfect and neither does God.”

“I never thought about it that way. I think you are right.”

“I know I am right,” he said, his voice full of confidence. “Give it a try, Beverly.”

“I will, but if I say the wrong words, you're going to hear about it,” she warned.

He chuckled. “Promise me you'll pray about it first.”

“For guidance.”

“Yes, but also so that if you do say the wrong thing, I won't have to take all the blame for it. I'll share that burden with the Lord.”

Beverly could just imagine Eric sitting at his desk, smiling, with his feet propped up on the corner of. It was obvious that he enjoyed their exchanges as much as she did. “You know I won't blame God, Eric,” she teased. “Only you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don't forget, I just reminded
you
to not forget that He guides us in all things.”

“Fair enough.” As the sound of voices floated across the line, she heard him shift. “I've got to go. I'll call you soon.”

“Talk to you when I talk to you,” she said and then hung up just as she saw Tricia peek in.

“Are you done with your phone call yet?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Done? Oh,
jah
. I'm off the phone.” Beverly hoped she sounded as nonchalant as she was trying to be.

“How was Mr. Eric today?”

“He was
gut
.” Then something occurred to her. “How did you know I was speaking with Eric?” Oh, she hoped Tricia hadn't overheard her!

Looking like she had all the answers, Tricia grinned. “Aunt Beverly, I know you've been talking to Eric every couple of days. I've been trying to stay out of here when you take his calls.”

“
Danke
, but there was no need. We simply enjoy catching up.”

Tricia's smile softened as she looked down at her bare feet. “I'm sure you do.”

Deciding there was no time like the present, Beverly said, “Come in here and sit with me, wouldja? I want to talk to you about something.”

Immediately, a line formed between Tricia's brows. “Is anything wrong? Oh, no! Did that family from New York City complain about the noise again?”

“Noise? What noise?” Beverly couldn't imagine that their street sounded any noisier than the streets in New York.

“They are in Michael Knoxx's old room and that mother mockingbird has returned.”

Relieved that the problem merely came from a pesky bird and not something worse, she said, “I guess we'd better tape some paper on the window.”

“I tried to tell them that but they didn't believe it would work.”

“No?”

Looking disgruntled, she added, “I don't think they believe I know what I'm talking about.”

“I'll touch base with them and see if they have any concerns,” she soothed. “Don't worry.”

Tricia smiled but then looked expectantly once again. “So if it's not that couple, what's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“You look kinda worried, Aunt Bev. You're gripping your coffee cup in the way you always do when something's on your mind.”

Immediately, Beverly loosened her grip. Right then and there she knew she should have taken Eric's advice and prayed before saying a word to Tricia. Then again, since the Lord was always with her, she hoped He would feel compelled to simply jump in wherever He saw fit to do so. “I wanted to talk to you about Ben.”

Tricia's light green eyes immediately turned wary. “What about Ben?”

“Um, well, you seem mighty happy with him.”

“I am happy with him. He's a
gut
friend.”

“Is that all he is to you?”

She leaned back, effectively putting up her guard. “What do you suspect him of being?”

“Tricia, I was not born yesterday. It's fairly obvious that you two are courting. Furthermore, as your aunt, I feel I should let you know that I'm starting to get worried about how serious things have gotten between you two.”

“Aunt Beverly, I thought you liked Ben.”

“I do. I like him
verra
much. But it, um, seems like you two are, um, progressing a little fast.” There. She said it.

Tricia looked down at her hands, which were now folded in her lap. “I'm not doing anything wrong.”

“I didn't say you were. Only that I am hoping to save you from getting hurt, Tricia.”

“Ben isn't going to hurt me.”

“You don't know that for sure.” Of course, the moment she said that, Beverly wished she could take back her words. She sounded so judgmental. Almost like an old maid.

“You don't need to be concerned with this, Aunt Beverly. This is my personal business. Not yours.”

That hurt. It also made her feel that she'd been correct when she'd told Eric she didn't have the right to offer Tricia advice. She wasn't the girl's mother. “I am not judging. I simply wanted to warn you. And tell you that I think it would be better for you in the long run if you slowed things down a bit.”

“Slow things down?” Looking extremely annoyed, Tricia said, “Aunt Bev, what do you think we are doing?”

“Nothing bad, of course. I'm worried about your heart, that's all.”

“My heart is fine.”

Beverly got to her feet. It was obviously time to retreat. “All right, then . . .”

“You know, I got my heart broken at home. Not by a boy but by my friends.”

“Anyone can be thoughtless,” she said slowly. “That is why I want you to be more cautious.”

“But Ben understands me.”

“How can he understand you? He doesn't even know you.” With a sigh, she added, “Tricia, all I'm saying is that a girl can sometimes get carried away by romance when she needs to keep a clear head.”

“A clear head,” she echoed, her voice flat.

“Jah.”
Feeling a little defensive, Beverly lifted her chin. She was well aware that she hadn't just dispensed the greatest advice ever given, but she was doing her best. She didn't have much experience counseling younger women.