Wedding Belles (19 page)

When she came close, he smiled. “So, how do I look?” He pointed to the crazy getup. “Too much? Too little?”

Lottie’s wide-eyed expression warmed his heart. “Perfect. You’re very…” She paused and her face turned red. “Hero-like.”

“Thank you. I—”

“Gilbert? Is that you?”

The familiar voice caught him off guard. He turned and saw the woman who had held his heart in her hands for so many years, the very one who had left him in the lurch for a new life in Denver.

“Winnie?”

She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a tight squeeze, drawing the attention of nearly every lady in the room.

After a moment of awkward silence, Fanny cleared her throat. Gilbert managed to pull away from Winnie’s embrace. He gazed into her eyes—tearstained eyes, no less—his nerves now a jumbled mess.

Lottie finally spoke up. “Everyone, this is my sister, Winifred.”

“Well, land sakes,” Fanny said. “I never would’ve taken you two for sisters.”

Gilbert flinched, knowing those words would probably cause Lottie a bit of a sting. Few people saw the resemblance between Winifred’s peaches-and-cream complexion and Lottie’s freckled, sun-kissed face. And Lottie’s short curls were no match for Winifred’s upswept hair.

He’d no sooner had time to think this through when Cornelia stepped next to Winnie and gave her a piercing look.

Uh-oh.

The two women took to staring, as if trying to size one another up. And Lottie…poor Lottie. She just looked like she wanted to run from the room and never return.

Well, maybe he’d join her. Melodrama hero or not, right now Gilbert Parker felt anything but incredible.

FOURTEEN

F
OILED
A
GAIN

Estes Park residents, what’s your favorite kind of pie? Lemon meringue, coconut cream, strawberry, silk chocolate, pecan? You name it, we’ve got it! We at Parker Lodge have made it our mission to tantalize your taste buds as we open the brand-new Parker’s Pie Parlor today at nine a.m. Come hungry…and bring a friend! Nibble on a slice of your favorite pie and enter your mama’s pie recipe in our “pie of the week” contest. You could win the right to have your pie sold in our shop! And while you’re here, pick up your ticket for our upcoming melodrama. Our show’s director, Lottie Sanders, has suggested a new title:
Foiled Again!
What’s your suggestion? Let us know, and you might just win a free week’s stay at the prettiest lodge on Fall River. —
Your friends at Parker Lodge

T
HE FOLLOWING
S
ATURDAY MORNING
Lottie entered the new pie parlor, her nerves a jumbled mess. For days, Gilbert had hardly spoken to her, except to ask her questions about his role in the play. He’d spent every available moment with either Cornelia or Winifred cooing after him. The very thought of it made her sick. It also made her more determined than ever not to change her appearance. Who cared if she looked like a tomboy if Gil wouldn’t even give her the time of day? Likely, he wouldn’t notice one way or the other.

She walked into the kitchen at seven thirty, stunned to find Hannah’s apron covered in white flour. And chunks of—what was that?—apples? The ordinarily tidy young woman glanced her way and grinned. “Oh, Lottie, look! I’ve been working on the apple pies. We open in an hour and a half, you know.”

“I know.” Lottie grinned back at her. “Are you nearly ready?”

“Yes. I know I’ve made a mess in the process, but I don’t care. Working with these ingredients has liberated me.” Her eyes filled with wonder. “Now I know how the suffragettes feel after one of their rallies—really and truly set free.” She giggled and tossed a chunk of apple into her mouth. Swiping the back of her hand across her cheek, she left a floury mark. Her eyes twinkled with a merriment Lottie had never witnessed before.

“If they taste half as good as they look, we’re going to have some happy customers,” Lottie said.

“They’re going to taste twice as good as they look.” From across the room Mrs. Parker’s cheerful voice rang out. “This girl is a wonder. You should taste the lemon meringue pies she made earlier this morning.”

Ah. Lemon meringue. That would explain the streak of yellow across the front of the apron.

“Would you like a teensy-tiny taste?” Hannah held up a slice.

“Sure.” Lottie reached for a fork. “Lemon is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” a familiar male voice rang out. Lottie turned to discover Doc Jennings standing behind her. “I’ve always been partial to lemon meringue pie. And chocolate pie. And apple pie.” He listed the many kinds of pies that made him happy. Before long, he’d purchased three. And the pie parlor hadn’t even opened its doors to the public yet!

By eight forty-five a line had formed at the door. Local folks— excluding the ladies from the Women’s League, of course—waited their turn to buy pies. By ten o’clock, there wasn’t a pie to be had in the kitchen. Not one.

Just after a delightful lunch, which Jeb prepared with Fanny’s help, Lottie found Gil seated at the kitchen table, writing checks. She pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

“Gil, did you see?”

He glanced up from his work. “See what?”

“The pie parlor. It’s a hit!”

He chuckled. “I saw Phineas and Doc Jennings walking off with a couple of pies each, so I figured things must be going well in there.”

“Oh, it is. You won’t believe what Hannah looked like, though.” As if she’d heard her name, a messy Hannah emerged from the kitchen, all smiles.

“Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.” Gil laughed. “But I’ve never seen her so happy. I’ve never seen any of the local fellas as happy as they look of late, either.”

“I know. There’s something in the air.” Lottie giggled, feeling her earlier anxieties lift. “Can you feel it?”

“I can.” He smiled at her. “And we have you to thank.”

“O–oh?” She gazed into his eyes and, for the first time in days, dared to hope that he might still care about her.

“It’s your hard work,” he said. “All of this has happened because you were willing to go along with a plan of action. A crazy idea that I came up with. How can I ever thank you?”

“Gil, you don’t have to. I’m having the time of my life. Well, except for the part where my mother’s not speaking to me.”

“I’m having the time of my life too. And I’m sorry about your mama.” He smiled again. “But I need you to know how grateful I am. It’s important that you know. Maybe…” He paused. “Maybe one of these days we can actually pay you a real salary. I’m not sure I could ever give you what you’re worth. You’ve meant so much to me.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, to the lodge.”

“Ah.”

Before she could say another word, Winifred entered the room with Cornelia at her side. Gilbert’s gaze shifted upward to the two women, and his face lit in a smile.

“Why, Gilbert Parker, we should’ve known you would be in here.” Winifred giggled. “Always working, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “There’s a lot to be done.”

“Of course.” She slipped her arm through Cornelia’s. “But it’s such a pretty day outside. I was just telling my new friend here about that lovely little spot near the river where you and I used to go for picnics. I was hoping we could talk you into joining us for a little rest from your labors.”

“Hmm.” He glanced down at the bills then back at the ladies. “I need to pay these before day’s end.”

Winifred’s mouth turned down in a pout. Seconds later, that pout turned into a smile. “Lottie knows how to do that, doesn’t she? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” Winifred turned to face her and Lottie felt her heart grow heavy. “Would you mind, Lottie?”

The pleading look in her sister’s eyes almost won Lottie over. Almost. For once, though, she held her ground. No more the accommodating little sister.

“Actually, I’m headed off to meet the ladies to sew some costumes. Sorry.”

She rose and took several steps away from them, praying all the while that Gil would stick to his guns and pay the bills instead of joining them. Unfortunately, she heard the scraping of his chair legs against the floor and realized her battle had been lost. Minutes later, he disappeared out the door with Winifred on his right and Cornelia on his left, their girlish giggles echoing across the room.

Lottie sighed and plopped back down in her chair.

“You care about him, don’t you?” The voice came from behind her. She turned to see Fanny standing there with Flossie behind her, holding several costumes. Grace entered behind Flossie, her arms loaded with fabrics.

“Oh, I…” Her words trailed off. She was embarrassed to speak her thoughts aloud in front of the ladies.

Fanny put her hand on Lottie’s arm. “No point in trying to hide it, sweet girl. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face. You’re smitten with him.”

Lottie sighed. “I am.”

“I knew it.” Grace dropped the fabrics on the table.

“Well, praise the Lord.” Fanny grinned. “What a lovely match the two of you would make.”

“No, we’ll never be a match.”
As much as I dared to hope.

“Let’s don’t assume that, honey.” Flossie draped the costumes over the back of a chair and took a seat across from Lottie. “You never know.”

“I’ve cared about Gilbert Parker forever, but he’s never noticed me.”
Well, except for that one time when he kissed me. But he doesn’t seem to remember doing that.

“How could he not notice you?” Grace sat next to her and reached for her hand. “You’re the star of his show.”

Lottie found those words to be perplexing, at best. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re center stage in his life—right in the very middle of everything that’s important to him.” Grace gave her hand a squeeze. “Why, you might as well have a spotlight shining on you. He would have to be blind not to notice you.”

“Maybe I should rephrase what I said, then.” Lottie paused to think her words through. “He doesn’t notice me in the way I want to be noticed. He’s been head over heels for my sister Winifred for as long as I can remember.”

Fanny’s nose wrinkled. “I see. Hmm. Never figured on that.”

“It’s true.” Lottie rose and began to fuss with the costume. She held up the pretty jade-colored fabric and gave it a scrutinizing look. “I was just that annoying kid sister who tagged along on their heels when they were courting.”

“Are they? I mean, are they still courting?” Grace asked.

“Oh, no. Winifred has moved away.” Lottie paused, choosing her words carefully. “That is, she had moved away to Denver. Mama sent her there to stay with our cousin so that she could be introduced to proper society. She met her fiancé—well, the man who was her fiancé—during her stay in Denver. But apparently they have ended things. I know Mama isn’t happy about the breakup, because the man is a successful banker. Very wealthy. He’s everything Mama ever wanted for Winifred. Only, now she’s coming back and my chances with Gilbert have come to an end. I might as well get used to the idea.”

“But you don’t know that, Lottie.” Fanny slipped an arm around her shoulder.

“Could we just forget about this and get to work on the costumes?” Lottie asked. “I think I would feel better if we could.”

“Of course, honey.”

They spent the next couple of hours pinning and hemming. Finally, with everything on their list nearly done, Lottie turned her attentions to the new jade dress. “This is the prettiest one by far. Patricia is going to look wonderful in it.”

“You’re about the same height as Patricia.” Flossie gave Lottie a pensive gaze. “We’ll use you as a model so I know where to pin the hem.”

“Oh, no. I could never wear the same costume as Patricia. She has such a lovely figure and I’m, well…” She pointed at herself. “A little top-heavy.”

“Who could tell, with those overalls?” Flossie asked.

Grace nodded. “Yes, I daresay there could be a girlish figure under there. Only one way to find out.” She handed Lottie the dress and then clasped her hands together. “Try this on for us, Lottie.”

Finally, unable to squelch the idea, Lottie headed off to the powder-room to change into the gown. Once she got it on, Grace came in to fasten the buttons up the back.

“Lottie, you look gorgeous!”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.” Grace gestured for her to turn around. “This is just like a scene from
Pygmalion
.”

“Pig who?” Lottie made a little turn and then stopped.

“Pygmalion
. The stage play.” Grace knelt down and began to pin the hem. “Ah, I know why you’ve never heard of it. It’s only just been written by Mr. George Bernard Shaw.”

“Don’t believe I’ve heard of him.”

Grace put her finger to her lips. “Don’t let Flossie hear you say that. She’ll call you a fraud.”

“I
am
a fraud. I don’t mind admitting it.” A second glance in the mirror gave her reason to doubt those words, however. In this gown, she felt very much like a lady.

“No, you’re not.” Grace gave her a wink. “I daresay your acting skills are quite good. Otherwise no one would’ve believed you to be a true director. And it’s clear you spend your days acting as if you don’t care one whit about Gilbert Parker when, in fact, you are madly in love with him.”

Lottie groaned. “Please don’t say that to anyone else. Promise?”

“You don’t deny it, then?” Grace’s eyes twinkled.

“I’ve already told you how I feel about him.” She squirmed as Grace continued to pin the gown. “Anyway, what is this pig story you were referring to?”

“Not pig. It’s
Pygmalion
. Lovely story of a young Cockney woman in London who undergoes a physical and emotional metamorphosis when Professor Henry Higgins takes her under his wing.” Grace continued to pin the hem, her fingers moving with swift assurance. Suddenly, she glanced up. “I daresay that’s what’s missing here.”

“The pig?”

“The metamorphosis. The shocking transformation.”

“You’re saying I need to change?”

“I didn’t say it, you did. You said that Gilbert didn’t notice you as you are. That he looks right past you.”

“Right.”

“Then show him a different side of you.” Grace put the last pin in place and rose. She stood alongside Lottie and they both gazed at their reflections in the powder-room mirror. “And before you give me that rehearsed speech about how he should love you just as you are, remember what you’ve already said—that he considers you the kid sister. It’s time to show him that you’re a grown-up woman.” Grace leaned in and whispered, “You are, you know. Grown up, I mean.”