A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn(7)

When Jay had been sitting alone outside, she’d left the window open, feeling there was no need to disrupt him and every need to enjoy the fresh breeze wafting inside. When Ben had arrived, she’d had every intention of closing the window, but then she’d heard Ben ask about his mother and she’d sensed that even the slightest disruption would be reason enough to end the conversation.

From the time they’d arrived, Beverly had had a feeling that the Hiltys were a group of four lonely souls adrift without their anchor. It was apparent in the way William ate only cornflakes for breakfast because that was what his mother had served him, and in the way that Mark smiled a little too quickly, acted a little too easygoing, as if he was afraid to cause more pain to his already pained family. She’d noticed Ben’s restlessness and Jay’s determination to pretend that all was well, too.

And it all broke her heart.

But now she knew just a little too much about one of her guests’ love life . . . and it just so happened to have a whole lot to do with her own niece. If Tricia had merely been visiting with her family, Beverly would have been tempted to sneak over to her room and tell her that she’d made quite an impression on Ben! But now that Tricia was more or less under her care and working at the inn, Beverly decided that it would be much better to simply let things happen between the two of them as they would.

As long as Tricia remembered to guard her heart.

Beverly knew from experience that trusting a man too quickly could lead to heartache. After all, three years ago she’d learned that her fiancé, Marvin, had been cheating on her with her best friend. If two people she’d known so well could betray her so easily, there was no telling what could happen to Tricia if she let down her guard too fast.

She was just about to consider the best way to counsel Tricia when she remembered what had happened the last time she’d stuck her nose into another couple’s romance.

It wasn’t that long ago that Michael Knoxx had been her guest for a few weeks while he’d been recovering from surgery. During this time, he’d developed a relationship with Penny, one of Beverly’s employees. When Beverly had seen the two of them holding hands, she’d overreacted and had made quite a mess of things. Eric, the actual owner of the inn, had given her a stern talking-to, as had Michael. And because she’d known that both men were right and she’d made an error in judgment, Beverly had promptly apologized.

She’d also chosen to use that experience as a learning opportunity.

Which meant that she really shouldn’t stick her nose into something that wasn’t her business. Yet. But all bets were off if she became aware of Tricia being in danger of getting her feelings hurt. If that happened? Well, she would do whatever it took to make sure Tricia didn’t make the same mistakes she had.





Chapter 3


Emma, how is it that you have three girls and a part-time job but you still manage to get everywhere ten minutes early?” Dorrie Beachy asked as she slipped into their booth at Yoder’s Restaurant.

“I don’t know,” Emma said with a tight smile, though actually she was pretty sure she did. Dorrie had a loving husband who liked to spend time with her. Emma knew if Sanford was still in her life, she’d likely be running late a lot more often. “Don’t worry about it, though. I haven’t been waiting long.”

After looking at her a bit more closely, Dorrie turned her mug right-side-up when the server headed their way, signaling her need for coffee. “Have you ordered pie yet?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you. Do you know what kind you want today?”

“Key lime,” Dorrie said, smiling at the server as she poured coffee into her cup. “What about you, Emma?”

“Chocolate.”

After the server left, Dorrie narrowed her eyes. “You want chocolate? Now I know something is wrong. Start talking.”

“Dorrie, this fascination you have about matching pies to moods needs to stop.”

“Why should it? It always rings true. When you’re happy, you choose coconut cream. When you’re sad, you pick a berry pie. And when you’re especially troubled, you ask for chocolate.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Oh, yes you do. Every single time.” After tasting her coffee, carefully adding another bit of cream, then stirring with the same kind of care Emma figured gourmet chefs put into fancy dishes, Dorrie leaned forward. “What’s wrong? Are you worried about Frankie?”

“My beagle? Nee.”

“You sure? I heard he got loose again two days ago.”

“He did. But he’s home safe. And none the worse for the wear.”