The Lady and the Logger

By Ruth Axtell

Annalise Brentwood has given up on love and marriage. She’s the kind of girl young men don’t look at twice if a more vivacious girl is nearby. On the verge of twenty-four, she knows her suitors are only interested in her family name and father’s wealth.

When brash logger Ashton West rolls into Holliston, Maine on the spring river drive, he takes one look at Annalise and decides she’s the one for him, little knowing who she is.
But it’ll take a lot more than swagger and charm to win the shy and bookish daughter of the town’s leading lumber baron—especially when her father decides to establish a town library and puts his daughter in charge, with handsome librarian Edmund Kimball to work alongside her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Axtell
• Release date: Jul 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781507080603

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter One

June 1893

Holliston, Maine

What was such a lovely female doing in a place populated by brawny men and littered with sawdust?

Hey, what’re you gawking at? Let go o’ that board.

Ashton West tore his gaze from the young lady making her way across the lumberyard. Sorry, Jesse. He lowered his end of the board onto the wagon and straightened. Who is that?

Huh? Jesse paused where he stood atop the wagon and took a bandana from his pocket. Removing his cap to wipe the sweat from his brow, he followed Ashton’s gaze to the other end of the yard.

Ash motioned with his hand. The lady, you lunkhead! She stands out like a bluebell in a weed patch. You’d have to be blind not to notice her.

The golden-haired vision in a blue-and-yellow-gingham frock was walking toward them. Ash brushed the sides of his hands against his dusty dungarees as he tossed about in his head how best to address her. Excuse me, miss, can I be of some assistance? He twisted his lips. That made him sound like a shop clerk. How do, miss? Anything I can do for you?

His brow furrowed in concern as he watched her. A sawmill was no place for a young lady, especially not in springtime when it was full of river drivers.

Jesse let out a howl of laughter. Why, I never knew you were such a poet. Wait till I tell the boys. He slapped his bandana against his thigh before stuffing it back into his trouser pocket.

Ashton ignored the ribbing tone, intent on the lady. She wore a pert, straw bonnet with a sprig of forget-me-nots around its brim and carried a frilly, blue parasol.

As she neared them, she stubbed the toe of her boot against something. In a flash, Ashton reached her side and steadied her by the elbow.

Th—thank you, she said in a breathless whisper though she didn’t look up at him. He gazed down at honey-golden lashes curving against the creamy pink skin of her cheeks.

He let go of her with reluctance, taking a step back.

A handkerchief lay at the tip of his scuffed boot. The white muslin gleamed against the dirt and sawdust. She must have dropped it when she stumbled.

They both bent down at the same moment. Ash reached the scrap of lace before she did. Squatting down, he held it out to her.

His breath hitched as her gaze met his. New-growth blue spruce was as close as he could come to describing the color of her eyes.

His lips crooked upward. Here you go, miss.

Her fingertips met his against the thin muslin barrier. Once again, her lips mouthed her thanks, though the words were drowned out by the chugging of the steam engine and the whining of the circular saws from the mill shed behind them.

He swallowed, ransacking his mind for something to say to prolong their encounter.

But his mind remained blank as she straightened, taking the handkerchief from his loose grasp, and breaking eye contact with him.

Before he could stand, she moved away from him, tipping her head and excusing herself with words he couldn’t hear. She continued on her way to the large, open-walled mill, pausing at the threshold of its shadowy interior.

Ash rose slowly to his feet. Concerned about her safety, he followed her, but she entered the noisy shed before he could reach her.

He scanned the busy interior with its whirring saws and moving conveyor belts. He let out a breath of relief when he spied her but drew his brows together when he saw her approaching Mr. Brentwood.

The mill owner’s son stood talking with the foreman. Neither man noticed her for a few minutes, their attention on the logs coming off the slip from the river below.

Ash stood transfixed, unable to take his gaze off the young lady.

When Mr. Brentwood finally turned toward her, his handsome face broke into a grin.

Who wouldn’t smile at such an angel? Acid curled in the pit of Ash’s gut at the realization that the young lady was already spoken for.

Expelling a frustrated breath, Ash turned back to the pile of lumber. Jesse had jumped down from the wagon and now stood, feet apart, arms crossed, a smirk on his ruddy face. You look like someone stole some candy from you.

Who is she?

Jesse rocked back on his heels, his chin lifted, an eyebrow cocked. Don’t you know?

Ash quirked an eyebrow, his curiosity growing. Though he and Jesse had spent the winter at a lumber camp, Ash was new in Holliston, a fact Jesse liked to lord over him every chance he got.

Jesse’s light blue eyes twinkled in mirth. The boss’s daughter.

As Ashton’s eyes widened, he chuckled. Yes, sirree. You’re staring at Annalise Brentwood, Warren’s sister. The glint in his eye deepened. You don’t want to mess with her.

Ash turned back to observe Miss Brentwood once more. Annalise. A beautiful name for a beautiful creature. Ash had never seen anyone so pretty.

’Sides, you’ll never get any closer to her than you just did. You’re lucky Brentwood didn’t see you talking to his baby sister. Jesse spit out the side of his mouth. They’re saving her for better things than a woodsman who hardly knows his alphabet.

Ashton pivoted to face Jesse, fists clenched. He’d bet he could read circles around Jesse Danforth.

Jesse put up his hands as if to fend him off. Don’t get riled, I was just makin’ sport. You should thank me for warning you away. You wouldn’t want to get on old Brentwood Senior’s bad side. Not if you want to get ahead on the yard.

Ash loosened his fingers, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. His friend was right.

Jesse jerked his head toward the wagon. Come on, before Dyer thinks we’re slacking off.

* * *

Ignoring the deafening cacophony around her, Annalise closed her parasol and made her way across the busy mill floor to her brother, who stood with the foreman, their backs to her.

She waited unobserved for a moment, content to watch the activity when the logs came in. This was part of her father’s world, normally off limits to her, but with Warren here, she could count on his welcome. For how much longer, remained uncertain.

Pushing aside this thought, she focused on the scene beyond. The river’s surface was covered with long, dark logs.

After the winter spent upcountry deep in the woods felling trees, the lumbermen floated them down the streams and rivers as soon as the ice floes receded to bring their harvest to port.

Annalise thought of the dangers of the river drives. Temporary dams giving way, logjams forming on the rocky areas of the rivers, freshets rising too much or too little. One false move and a river driver could fall from the rolling logs into the icy, churning waters and be lost in an instant.

She watched the men now jump from log to log on the river as relaxed as if they were strolling across a planked floor. The logs were held in place by booms, logs chained end-to-end around their perimeter. The lumbermen speared them with their pick poles to guide the logs onto the wooden slip that conveyed them up to the sawmill high above the river.

Knowing she couldn’t stay long, Annalise tapped Warren on the elbow.

Warren turned, his eyes widened in surprise. Hello there, Sis, he shouted over the din of the saws and noise of the river. His initial smile turned into a frown. You know it’s not safe for you to come to the upper mill during the river drive. Too many new men around.

She thought of the young man who’d appeared out of nowhere to pick up her handkerchief. She’d never seen him before, and she knew by sight all the local men who worked for her father. His gentlemanly manner had caught her attention in their brief encounter.

Annalise shook her head, erasing the image of the lumberman. I’m sure I would be in no danger with you here on the yard.

Yes, but what if I hadn’t been here? The crease between Warren’s light brown eyebrows deepened.

Mr. Dyer spoke up. You can be sure I’ll look after Miss Brentwood if you’re ever not around.

Thank you, she said with a shy smile at the foreman. You see, Warren, you needn’t have worried.

If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll see to what we were talking about. With a tug on his cap, the foreman left them.

Warren escorted Annalise back the way she’d come, where it was quieter. What brings you here anyway?

Since you weren’t in your office or at the lower mill, I thought it a lovely day to take the pony cart to find you. She leaned against her parasol. I have been commissioned to extract your solemn promise that you will be home for supper on time this evening. Don’t forget the wedding rehearsal is tonight.

His green eyes reflected both amusement and impatience. You think I’d forget my own wedding rehearsal?

Annalise pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Mother certainly doesn’t trust you. Espy, on the other hand, has the utmost faith in you.

His look sobered. Let’s hope I don’t ever disappoint her.

She reached out and touched his arm. You won’t. You’ll be the best of husbands.

Thank you. The warmth in his eyes filled her with pleasure. It wasn’t often she found the right thing to say. I’m a blessed man and just want to be worthy of her.

She squeezed his arm. You will be.

He gave a lopsided smile, which gave her a pang. Her self-assured brother had been growing increasingly nervous as the wedding day approached. Was this what love did to a person?

It’s certainly a busy time of the year with the second drive coming in. However, dear sister, my own wedding takes precedence. You may assure Mother of that.

I will. Annalise stepped away. I mustn’t keep you. It certainly seems to be humming around here. She glanced around. As her gaze strayed out across the yard, she spotted the young man who’d picked up her handkerchief. He stood looking at her. Her cheeks flushed. The next moment he bent to haul a piece of lumber from a stack. He and Jesse Danforth, a local man, were loading a wagon. She must have mistaken the direction of his gaze.

She continued watching him a few seconds longer. Of medium height, the stranger was slim and wiry, exhibiting a fluid strength as he lifted the long, wide boards. He reminded her of Silas.

Her throat constricted at the memory of the fool she’d made of herself a few years ago with that young man.

Trying to shake the memory, she reminded herself that this was someone else. She strove to remember the friendly yet intent way he’d looked at her when he’d handed back her handkerchief. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue. Teal, she thought now, like the bay at certain times of sunset when the wind had died and the sea was flat like a lake, equal parts deep blue and green, frosted white on the surface where the long rays of the sun hit it at a sharp angle.

Who’s that man? The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Which one?

She pointed with the tip of her parasol. The one working with Jesse.

Oh—just one of the new fellows who came down with the drive. West. Why do you ask?

She drew back at her brother’s tone of interrogation. His eyes fixed on her in the way her father's did when he asked her about anyone she had danced with. She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. No reason. I recognize most everyone at the mill. Strangers always stand out.

He comes from somewhere up north. First time he’s been down this way. Dyer hired him, so I haven’t spoken more than two words to him myself.

A river driver. Probably as rough and uncouth as the rest who hired on for the season, despite his polite tone and helpful manner. She turned her attention away from him even as her heart recalled what a gentleman Silas had been even though he’d been nothing more than an apprentice boatbuilder.

Pushing down the memory, she smiled at Warren. You’ll be home by five o’clock for supper and we’ll head to the church from there? You know Espy still feels uncomfortable around Mother, and I’m not much help.

To her relief, Warren turned from watching the young lumberman. Of course you are. You’ve been wonderful, helping Espy feel welcome.

Annalise shook her head, knowing she’d done very little. I wish I could do more. I get all tongue-tied and can’t think of what to say beyond the most commonplace.

Espy appreciates that you’ve always been nice to her, even when others haven’t.

I think more of our friends are making an effort to accept her now that they know you’re marrying her.

I hope so. He drew in a breath as if to get on with other things. Tell Mother I’ll be home promptly. He gestured toward the pony cart. You’d better be off before you get your pretty gown stained with sap. Come, I’ll walk you out.

There’s no need. Annalise stepped back into the hot sun and unfurled her parasol. When he made to follow her, she shook her head. I shall be fine. You may watch me walk across the yard if you must.

Very well, if you’re sure. With a smile, he bent and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

I shall see you at home then. With a final wave, she retraced her steps across the sunny yard, her gaze skimming over it. The young lumberman turned from setting another board atop the growing pile on the wagon. Their eyes met once more.

He touched the brim of his hat with his fingers.

Heat stole through her cheeks, and she nearly stumbled on the uneven ground once more. How provoking that would be! He’d think she was doing it on purpose to get his attention. Gripping the handle of her parasol, she dipped her chin in acknowledgment, hardly knowing what she was doing.

Hello, Miss Brentwood.

She blinked at the amused tone above her head. Jesse Danforth touched his cap from his stance atop the wagon. She shaded her eyes, unable to see his features against the bright sun but imagining a smirk. Good day, Mr. Danforth.

With a nod, she walked on, keeping her look averted from the river driver who stood so close to her. The yard seemed as wide as the river as she headed toward her cart. She felt the two men’s gazes on her back like the hot rays of the sun. Picking up her pace, she hurried on.

Only when she was out of sight of the sawmill yard was she able to take deep, slow breaths, scolding herself for being such a ninny.

Why did she always get so flustered when someone paid attention to her? Jesse Danforth was harmless.

No. It was the blond-haired, teal-eyed stranger who’d put wings on her feet.

Chapter Two

The pony cart trundled down the dirt road skirting the river. As Annalise reached town, the river narrowed to a gorge of rushing water bisected by an island. She guided the pony onto a covered bridge that spanned the nearest portion of the rapids below.

When she emerged onto the small island dividing the river, she passed a gristmill, its waterwheel churning, and another sawmill before she reached the Brentwood lower mill. Just like the upper one, the bustle of men and the whirring of saw blades were visible from the exterior.

Reminded again of her agitation leaving the other yard, she flicked the reins, picking up the pony’s pace until she crossed the second, open bridge and entered Holliston’s Main Street.

She greeted acquaintances left and right on the busy street but didn’t linger. After a brief stop at the dry-goods store, she continued on her way. When she’d traversed the length of town, she followed a narrow, rutted track north to what folks called the shantytown, a half mile or so beyond Holliston’s last house. It was where the immigrants lived, mainly Irish, some French from Canada and northern Maine, and Espy’s family, whose father was Portuguese.

The row of timber frame houses stood in dilapidated array, shingles missing, clapboards unpainted, shutters askew. Swallowing the slight trepidation Annalise felt whenever she ventured into this area, she forced herself to smile at the children playing in the street and avoided the stares of the sullen-faced men lounging on the sagging front porches.

Feeling she’d run an obstacle course, she pulled up at the last house, where her brother’s fiancée lived.

Securing the reins to the fence post, she took in the improvements to the yard ever since her brother had taken an interest in Espy’s family.

She still marveled at her brother’s falling in love with Esperanza Estrada. She was beautiful, of course, and had a kind, generous nature, but still...Annalise would never have predicted that her upstanding, respectable brother would have given his heart to someone like Espy—a girl outside his sphere, with little education, and a scandalous reputation to boot.

Annalise was thankful the gossip about her had proved false.

Warren had fallen hard, to the point of being willing to give up everything their father had worked so hard to build up in order to go after Espy when she’d left town.

Annalise’s hand paused on the gate latch.

What would it be like to have someone love her so? It was the kind of love she dreamed about and wrote stories about in her notebook, but her only experience had ended in heartache and pain. Little chance now that she’d ever meet someone. No knight in shining armor for her. He’d fallen in love with someone more like Espy, beautiful, outgoing, with a zest for life, a young lady Annalise could never have competed with.

The wounds, though over two years old, which she’d thought not only healed but faded to oblivion, proved they still smarted. Was it meeting that teal-eyed stranger today on the lumberyard that had resurrected the memories?

At twenty-three, Annalise was aware she was on her way to spinsterhood. The girls she’d grown up with were either married, engaged, or walking out with a gentleman.

Annalise had never even had a steady beau.

To escape these tormenting thoughts, she unlatched the white-washed gate and walked up the stone path to the front door.

Before she reached it, the door opened, revealing one of Espy’s numerous younger sisters.

Annalise smiled down at the girl. Gina?

Yes, miss, the nine-year-old answered with a vigorous nod that sent her dark brown braids dancing. The brown-eyed, tawny-skinned girl already showed the promise of her older sister’s beauty.

May I come in?

The girl moved back, opening the door wider.

Who is it, Gina? Espy’s voice called out from inside.

It’s Miss Brentwood, Gina shouted back.

Well, tell her to come in.

The next second Espy herself appeared in the entryway, her smile wide and welcoming. It never failed to put Annalise at her ease. Espy was a couple of years younger than Annalise. They were of a similar height. Any resemblance ended there. Where Annalise was blond with pale green eyes, Espy was dark-haired with eyes a smoky brown like umber. Both were slim, yet Espy’s figure revealed more curves than Annalise’s.

Where Annalise was shy and tended to hang back in crowds, Espy was warm and friendly, with an air of assurance that sometimes bordered on bravado. It was only after coming to know Warren—and growing closer to the Lord—that the bravura had transformed into a true inner strength.

Hello there, come on in. She gestured with her arm for Annalise to precede her into the front parlor.

Excuse the mess, but, as you can see, we are in the throes of last-minute wedding preparations.

That’s quite all right. Annalise stepped into the small front parlor, pulling off her cotton gloves as she did so. The room was crowded with women and girls, most of them Espy’s sisters, but also neighbors and relations. Since wedding preparations had begun in earnest, Annalise had been to Espy’s house a few times in the last weeks and grown familiar with her family and friends.

Hello, Miss Brentwood, a few of the older women greeted her, inclining their heads with a smile. She nodded in return, glad for their acceptance. The first time she’d entered Espy’s house, they had all stared at her as if she had two heads.

Annalise handed Espy the parcel she had brought. I stopped by to bring you the ribbon and length of lace you needed.

That’s so thoughtful of you. Espy took the parcel from her. Please have a seat—if you can find one! she added with a laugh, shooing a young girl off the nearest wooden chair. Give Miss Annalise your chair, Alicia.

The child nodded, staring up at Annalise with her gray eyes, the only child among all the Estrada children to have light-colored eyes like her mother. All the others resembled their father.

There’s no need, Annalise said with a tentative smile at the little girl, who couldn’t have been more than five. Not wanting to take the child’s seat, she looked around the parlor. Her attention was immediately caught by the gown draped on a dressmaker form in one corner of the room.

She ventured toward the peach-colored satin creation, which she had seen in various stages of construction on the dress form. But now it stood complete. Espy’s sister Angela stood behind the gown, pins in her mouth. She gave an abrupt nod to Annalise.

Hello, Angela. Though Angela was the sister closest in age to Espy, she was the only one to make Annalise ill at ease. Unlike the other Estradas’ open welcome, Angela always wore a dour expression, a frown creasing her brow, her thin lips pressed together. She was the plainest of the Estradas, her lank hair pulled back in a tight bun, her face round, and her build heavier than the others.

Espy came to stand beside Annalise as the other women in the room resumed their conversations. It’s almost finished. What do you think?

Espy’s wedding gown sported the newest fashion of puffed sleeves and a wide bertha and high collar of lace.

Drawing in her breath, Annalise reached out to touch the edge of a sleeve. It’s beautiful.

Straight out of the Marshall Field spring catalog, though we shortened the train a bit and omitted a lot of the furbelows. Espy laughed, flicking at the bertha. I’m not sure if your mother will approve, but I want to be able to use it again on other occasions.

Annalise walked slowly around the gown, noting the rosettes at the high neck, waist, and hem. It’s just right. It will look beautiful on you.

Espy released a sigh of relief. I hope so. Have you tried on your bridesmaid dress?

Annalise nodded. Hers was being made by her mother’s seamstress. Her mother had offered to have all the gowns made there, but Espy and her sisters, who would be in the bridal party, had insisted on making their own dresses.

Hello there, Miss Annalise. Espy’s mother approached her, wiping her hands on a dish towel. The baby of the family, Julia, clung to her apron, two chubby fingers in her mouth, her large brown eyes staring up at Annalise.

Annalise smiled at her, though she didn’t know what to say. Other women her age were natural around infants, but Annalise just felt awkward and shy.

Would you like a cup of coffee, Miss Annalise? Mrs. Estrada asked.

No, thank you, ma’am. I just stopped by to bring a few notions for the gowns.

Espy’s mother, a slim woman with lighter hair and coloring than Espy, smiled. How nice of you, dear. What do you think? She gestured toward the dress form.

It’s lovely. Warren won’t be able to take his eyes off Espy.

Espy’s color rose while her mother murmured her agreement.

They admired the dress a few minutes longer, commenting on the different features they’d incorporated from the original design.

How’s your dress coming, dear?

It’s all finished, Annalise said.

We’re almost done with Angela’s and Hortensia’s. Come have a look. O’course, Gina and Alicia want to wear theirs already, so I’ve had to put them upstairs till the wedding day.

What about little Julia? She smiled again at the child still clinging to her mother’s apron.

Oh, she’ll be leading the procession, I imagine, as flower girl, her mother said with a chuckle. Her dress isn’t quite finished. She patted her daughter’s head. Go on and play with your sisters.

But the youngest child refused to be shooed away. Taking the child’s hand, Mrs. Estrada led Annalise upstairs. We wouldn’t-a had all the sisters as bridesmaids, Mrs. Estrada said over her shoulder, but I know Warren’s folks expect a big wedding so Espy thought it would be nice to include all the girls.

The bridesmaids’ dresses were draped over the iron bed and across chairs in Mrs. Estrada’s bedroom, causing the room with the stained wallpaper to be awash with pastel color. Matching Annalise’s own dress, they were mauve, trimmed with pale green sashes and ribbons. It looks like a rainbow in here, she said, pausing at the threshold.

Mrs. Estrada smiled. It’s the only safe place to keep them so the children don’t soil or wrinkle them. I’ll be glad when the day comes.

Aren’t they pretty? Espy asked.

Very.

And here’s our flower girl’s. Mrs. Estrada showed her the smallest gown.

I’m a flower girl, Julia said softly, smoothing one of the gowns with her hand. Mama, can I try my dress on again?

No. You’ve tried it once today and we don’t want it getting soiled.

To distract the child, Annalise asked the first thing she could think of. Are you and your sisters going to be at the church tonight for the rehearsal?

The young girl nodded.

Espy straightened the sash on one of the dresses. Alvaro and Angela will bring them since I’m going to the church earlier.

That reminds me, Espy. I stopped by the upper mill and Warren promised he would be there on time.

Espy took a deep breath. I hope everything goes all right. It’s turned into a much more elaborate ceremony than I ever imagined. With only two days to go, it hardly seems real.

Annalise nodded in understanding. I didn’t realize we had so many family and friends until Mother began writing the guest list. Warren kept trying to tell her to keep it small, but she insisted they’d be hurt if we didn’t invite them.

Yes, he told me. Espy’s smile seemed strained.

Don’t you worry none. Her mother patted her arm. All the guests will care about is seeing how pretty you look in your dress and then having a good time at the reception.

With all the food that’s been ordered and that our cook and the extra helpers Mother has hired have been preparing for days, I can hardly imagine that the guests won’t enjoy themselves. Annalise hoped her words reassured Espy and didn’t worry her more.

Espy breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. If all they care about is the party afterward, maybe I can enjoy the day myself.

Every bride is a bundle of nerves, her mother said, so you’re no different.

Espy’s full lips twisted. But most aren’t marrying into the Brentwood family. As if realizing what she’d said, her slim hand flew to her mouth, her umber eyes wide. I’m so sorry, Annalise. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.

Annalise reached out with an awkward gesture. I know you didn’t. I would be just as nervous if Mother were making all these preparations for my wedding. Her cheeks flushed as soon as the words left her mouth.

The other women didn’t seem to notice her distress. She wondered that they didn’t find it strange that she was still single. Her glance strayed to Angela. Perhaps it was because Angela was still single. But she was only eighteen.

They continued showing her the rest of the bridesmaids’ gowns before returning to the parlor, where Mrs. Estrada excused herself to speak to one of the ladies seated there.

Annalise hoped her own mother, who was organizing the wedding, would do her best to make the day special for Espy. Her mother still treated Espy with great formality, and Espy’s natural exuberance was subdued whenever she was around her.

I just don’t want to trip walking down the aisle and embarrass Warren, Espy said as they stood once more in front of her wedding dress. That’s why the train’s half the length of the one in the original.

You’ll look beautiful, so even if you trip, no one will mind.

Espy made a face at her. Small comfort.

Annalise bit her lip. Oh—I didn’t mean you were going to trip—

Espy laughed aloud. I know you didn’t. You needn’t mind me. I’m getting more jittery every day.

It’s just a ceremony, over in about eight minutes, Espy’s sister Angela said in her flat voice, her hands adjusting the wide swath of lace forming the bertha.

I know. But it’s the only time I plan to be married, so I want to do it right.

Annalise listened to the sisters’ conversation, the one as no-nonsense as a schoolmarm, the other lighthearted and teasing. As she watched them, Annalise felt a twinge of envy. How she’d always wanted a sister.

Now she was about to have a sister-in-law.

She’d wanted to offer Espy her friendship when she and Warren had gotten engaged, but up to now she had had little opportunity. Both Warren and Espy had been away for the past year, he studying at the seminary in Bangor to get his divinity degree and Espy working as a stenographer for Peabody’s Department Store.

Since Espy and Warren had returned home for their wedding, Annalise wished all the more to be closer to her future sister-in-law.

But Espy, no matter how friendly, really didn’t need Annalise as a sister. She had so many already. And now she had Warren.

As soon as there was a pause in the sisters’ conversation, Annalise said, I have to get home. Mother is serving supper early tonight so we’ll be at the church on time.

Espy walked Annalise to the door. "Thank