Page 7 of May I Kiss the Bride

VIOLA HAD NO IDEA WHY she’d gone and told Sheriff Rey things that she hadn’t even told her own mother.

When she once brought up nursing school to her father, he’d blustered and ranted, firmly putting her back into the place where she was expected to exist. And the months and years had passed.

Now she was twenty-seven and working in a tiny bakery for an aunt.

“You look like him, you know,” Aunt Beth said as she perched on the wooden stool in front of the shop register.

Viola paused in peeling the bushel of peaches she’d been working on for the past hour. Sidney was peeling apples, and Della was sweeping the floor.

He merely tipped his hat at Viola, greeted her aunt and asked if there was anything she needed, then strode out.

Oh, she’d seen him about town. And if they made eye contact, he’d nod and tip his hat.

Viola was about ready to knock that hat off of his head, if only to get him to say more than a two-word greeting.

“Your father,” Aunt Beth continued. “You remind me of him.”

Viola couldn’t have been more surprised. People always told her she looked like her mother—same blonde hair, similar height, and curvy build.

“You have his eyes.” Aunt Beth looked toward the windows, her painted brows pinched.

Viola wouldn’t say her aunt looked exactly like her mother—but there were plenty of similarities between the two sisters.

Now Viola blinked. She supposed her eyes were the same color as her father’s, but no one else had really commented on that.

“You have his forthrightness and stubbornness,” Aunt Beth continued as if she were performing a monologue with an audience of three.

Della had stopped sweeping, and Sidney had stopped peeling apples.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Viola teased, because Aunt Beth sounded bleak, subdued, and something prickled at the back of Viola’s neck. What had brought all of this on?

Aunt Beth pushed herself up from the stool, then rubbed her hands as if they ached, which they probably did.

“Do you want me to put on that cream for you?” Viola offered.

“That would be nice, dear,” Aunt Beth said in a tone that sounded like she was thinking of something else entirely. “Do you think you girls can run the shop today? I’m quite tired.”

Viola’s mouth nearly dropped open, but she nodded anyway. “Of course.”

“Can I run the register?” Sidney asked in a hopeful tone.

“I don’t care who does it, but there must be a double count upon closing.”

“Yes, Miss Cannon.” Sidney gave Della a triumphant glance.

Della’s scowl lasted only a second, then she returned to sweeping.

“Come, Viola,” Aunt Beth said.

Viola followed her aunt up the stairs to the second floor, where she lived in a suite of rooms that included a tiny kitchenette, a sofa by the window, and two narrow beds in the bedroom.

When Aunt Beth settled on the sofa, she drew an afghan about her legs even though it was plenty warm.

Should Viola be worried even more now? She fetched the cream that the town doctor had said would ease the swelling and aching in her aunt’s hands. Sitting next to her, Viola began to rub the cream in.

“You have a nice touch,” Aunt Beth said in that faraway voice again. “You know, I wanted to go into nursing too.”

Viola’s mouth did drop open then. “You—you heard what I said to Sheriff Rey last week?”

Aunt Beth’s mouth curved into a smile. “Yes, of course. I couldn’t leave my niece alone with a virile and unmarried man. Doesn’t matter how ill he might be. Wouldn’t be proper.”

“The sheriff would never—” Viola cleared her throat. “He’s an honorable man, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.” She was still trying to remember their conversation exactly and what Aunt Beth might have overheard.

“He’s been keeping an eye on you, you know,” Aunt Beth said.

“On me ?” Viola rubbed her aunt’s wrist a little harder than she’d intended to. When she realized it, she softened her touch. “He’s looking out for all of us in the shop. It’s his job.”

Aunt Beth chuckled at this, then she drew her hands back. “Viola, you’re a grown woman, but sometimes I think you only see what you want to see—and ignore what’s right in front of you.”

Heat climbed up Viola’s neck. “I see what’s in front of me—”

But Aunt Beth held up her hand. “Now, sometimes it’s better to listen, especially to a woman who has years more experience than you in matters between men and women.”

Viola could only stare at her aunt. Beth had never been married or engaged, never had children …

Had she a string of lovers in the past no one in the family knew about?

It was hard to imagine her wild-haired aunt, in her plain cotton dresses and perpetual flour underneath her fingernails, with extensive experience with men.

“I’m listening,” Viola said, because what else could she say? She was more curious and eager than a mouse searching for crumbs in winter.

“When your mother and I were young women, she was always considered the pretty one. The bright, sparkly, outgoing Cannon sister. I was the studious one. Always reading. Always dreaming of far-off places. I read everything. Medical books in which I imagined myself as a nurse. Legal books in which I wondered if I could follow in Clara Foltz’s shoes and become a female lawyer in California.

Science books in which I dreamed of joining a safari trip to the African continent. ”

Viola had read books about all those subjects, but she’d always known she was meant to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a society miss. “So nursing was one of the things you considered?”

“Yes,” Aunt Beth said. “I wasn’t like you—invested in it—because I loved to dream so much.

I used to go on long walks with a book tucked under my arm.

I’d slip into one of the San Francisco hotels and sit in the lobby.

Not to read, but to listen to the conversations of those around me.

Travelers intrigued me. And that’s when I met your father. ”

Viola moved to the edge of the sofa and turned more fully toward her aunt. “I thought you and my mother met Father at the governor’s ball.”

“Oh, that’s when your mother met him.” Beth released a sigh accompanied by a smile.

“I fell in love with him first, you know. I still remember the moment your father walked into that hotel lobby. He was dressed like a gentleman, and his eastern accent only added to his intrigue. He spoke rapidly to the hotel concierge, then swept his gaze about the lobby, stopping on me.”

Aunt Beth touched a hand to her throat as she continued.

“He asked me for restaurant recommendations, and we fell into a conversation after that. For over an hour we talked of everything, and he told me he was interviewing for a job at the bank. That he’d be in town for a week or two, sightseeing.

I had planned to show up in the lobby the next day, and maybe the next, if only to speak with him more.

But that night, he arrived at the governor’s ball. ”

Viola had heard stories about the governor’s ball—from her parents, never from Aunt Beth.

“That night at the ball, your father only had eyes for your mother. It was like someone had snuffed out the candle burning inside of me, forever plunging me into the dark.” She gave a sad laugh. “At least that’s what it felt like at the time. Nineteen-year-olds can be dramatic.”

But Viola didn’t smile or laugh. How had she not known Aunt Beth had loved her father? She felt both repelled and fascinated. “Did Mother know? Did my father … ?”

“No one knew,” Aunt Beth continued. “At least not directly. I think they both suspected. I left the morning after they’d announced their engagement at Christmas dinner. Packed my things, jumped on a train heading east, and got off at Cheyenne.”

Viola had no words. She hadn’t known any of this.

“I refused to go to the wedding,” Aunt Beth said. “I made up an excuse of being ill.” She shrugged. “Never had the desire to see the two of them together. Thought that maybe I’d find another man, or I’d follow one of my dreams after all. But none of that happened.”

Viola released a breath. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Another shrug from Aunt Beth. “How could you?” She reached out and patted Viola’s hand. “Now, run along. The shop will be opening soon, and you have a lot of admirers coming to see you.”

“None I could ever take seriously,” Viola said. “My parents would have a fit.”

Aunt Beth chuckled. “That’s what makes it so entertaining.

I know you’ve been smarting over your broken engagement, but it’s quite comical that your parents would make you hide out here.

The one place they’d never stoop to visit.

And the one place where you are at the most threat of having your heart stolen. ”

“What do you mean?” Although Viola knew what her aunt meant. Her racing heart was proof enough.

“You’re not one of those stuffy city folks,” Beth said.

“You might look like your parents, and you might have finer manners than most people in Wyoming, but you’re a dreamer.

You want to look beyond the trappings of wealth and privilege.

You want to make a difference in the world, and how will you do that living under the weight of someone else’s expectations?

If there’s one thing I could tell you to do—based on all my experience and all my regrets—it’s to take a chance on your dream.

If you don’t, you’ll never know if it would have worked out. ”

Viola’s thoughts spun with all that Aunt Beth had told her. She rose to her feet and moved to the door leading to the stairs. “Thank you for telling me your story. I didn’t know, and I’m sorry that you went through such heartache.”

“Oh.” Aunt Beth waved a hand. “It was all for the best. I see that now. Your father was on the fast track of elite society, and your mother happily went along with him. I’m content in my small-town bakery.

It might not have been an original dream, but it suits me just fine.

The quiet life, the nonjudgmental life, a life of feeding people delicious food—what could be better? ”

Viola smiled as she paused at the door. “Wyoming isn’t so bad?”

Aunt Beth grinned. “Not so bad at all.”

Viola’s thoughts felt weighed down as she descended the steps.

Aunt Beth’s secret was out, it seemed. All these years—she’d been living her second choice in life.

Alone, but not alone at all. Every person in the town admired Aunt Beth, greeted her, visited with her—she was surrounded by a different kind of family.

Viola had never had that in San Francisco.

No, her days were filled with social visits or joining her mother on committees for one thing or another.

Her close friends she’d grown up with were all married, and some had children of their own.

Her only independent time was when she volunteered for the Red Cross.

She walked into the kitchen and settled into making the first round of pies.

The routine had become a comfort in a way.

She could let her mind wander yet keep her hands busy.

The morning passed quickly as Viola got pies into the oven, then rolled out more crust. Sidney chatted merrily with the men who had lined up to make their purchases.

Even without Sheriff Rey directly in the shop, the men were much better behaved. They didn’t add on extra dollars and make demands. They paid for their orders, tipped their hats at Viola and the other girls, then shuffled out.

Viola hadn’t realized how much she was watching the door when Deputy Thatcher walked in—instead of Sheriff Rey.

“How y’all doing?” he asked, nodding to Sidney. “Any trouble today?”

Sidney flashed the older man a smile. “Everyone’s been well-mannered.”

“We have,” Phil said, a stout man with intelligent eyes. “In fact, I was just about to ask if these pretty ladies will be at the barn dance tomorrow night.”

Sidney blushed quite fiercely, which Viola found intriguing. Did she have an interest in the cowboy named Phil?

“I’ll be there,” Sidney declared. “How about you, sir?”

Phil’s gaze cut to Viola, then returned to Sidney’s, where it should be. “I’ll certainly be there. Maybe you can save a dance for me? I’d be right pleased.”

Sidney’s coloring deepened. “I’ll consider it.”

Viola wanted to laugh. Sidney was way past considering.

“What about you, Miss Delany? Will you be at the barn dance?” another man called out.

Viola looked over to see a man named Billy, who was a regular at the bakery.

Someone had mentioned he was a cattleman, which probably explained why his clothing looked like he’d just climbed off a horse.

He was usually quiet, as far as his words went, but his gaze was always on her as if he were trying to read her very thoughts.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Viola said, which was true, but even if she went to the barn dance, it wouldn’t be to dance with any of these men.

She’d already told Aunt Beth that she’d help at the pie table.

Stay behind the scenes. The way things were looking, Aunt Beth might not be going to the barn dance.

Billy shuffled forward in line, not responding, but not looking away either.

The stares and comments were still a bit of a novelty.

They didn’t bother her too much, although Billy was a bit brazen with his staring.

There were other single women in town—Viola had met them, along with Sidney and Della.

They might be a few years younger than Viola, but they were definitely interested in courting and getting married.

“She’ll go,” Sidney said brightly. “It can’t be a barn dance without our newest friend there.”

Viola wanted to know why not when Deputy Thatcher slapped a hand on his thigh. “Oh, geez Louise, I forgot about that. Sheriff better be back by then. I can’t throw out all the drunks on my own.”

Back? Where was Sheriff Rey? Out of town?

Should he be traveling after being so recently recovered from his surgery?

Curiosity burned inside of her, but she didn’t dare ask any questions with so many listening ears about.

And were drunkards a main part of the barn dance? Maybe she’d stay clear after all.

“Oh, that’s right.” Sidney rang up Phil’s purchase while they both blushed. “Sheriff went to fetch his daughter back home.”